I am debating even posting this... but it's time to vent. Today was HARD. The hardest Sunday I've had so far with little Boonie Lefler. Whoa. Everything started off fine as we only made it in to sacrament meeting 5 minutes late and were actually able to find a side pew to contain the beast... I'm not sure that it's the fact that my son talks more than other babies... but the VOLUME. His little coos and calls (shrieks and screams) seem to just be amplified in the chapel totally disrupting everyone's peace.
*SIDE NOTE* Mason was with me today but he was busy planning a lesson that he had to give during the 3rd hour. So I was on my own.
I tried to stay in the chapel long enough to be able to take the sacrament, but Boonie wasn't having it. So after one block being thrown and lots of screams we left the room. I took him to the mother's room where, luckily no one was in there, (I forgot my cover) I tried to nurse him, but he wasn't having that either. So I decided to put him down and let him run wild in that room.... No... he didn't want me to put him down either. Anyway... long story short... I decided to go back in to the chapel after the rest hymn. After about 5 minutes ok, we'll say 7, he grabs hold of my mother's day necklace and throws himself backwards nearly falling out of my arms and screams, sending the charm flying. Mason gives me the death look (or so I interpreted) and so I haul him out - back to the mothers room.
It's interesting how sore your arms can be after just one hour of trying to contain an 11 month old. Finally sacrament ends and I take him back to pass off to Mason and head to my nursery calling.
I need some spiritual uplifting today, badly.
But then I feel guilty as people in the hall look at me and tell me, "This stage passes so quickly." And how they miss their little ones at this age. Now please don't get me wrong, I love every single thing about my baby, but today was just one of those hard days. During one of the mother's room melt downs I looked at that little blonde boy and imagined the man that he would one day be and was thankful for my time with him. I know I will look back at these days and miss them, but that doesn't make them any easier. It's almost as if I am viewing them from afar as they are happening - I'm being thankful and smiling to myself, but then I am frustrated at the same time.
I wonder at what age I am suppose to expect him to be able to sit through sacrament. I also wonder if there are things I could be doing to help him be calmer. But like I said, this week was just one of those weeks. Perhaps next week will be better.