Our pastor sent us a letter in advance, outlining our duties. Basically it was: be ready in the back of the church with the big candle-lighting brass thing, light the second purple candle, and then read this three line prayer. Simple. Got it.
I was more concerned about what we would all wear. Coordinating chocolate brown outfits? Matching daddy-davy sweaters? Something slimming for me?
The morning of our Advent Adventure was hectic. Maria was not interested in coordinating chocolate brown outfits. Despite the frigid temperatures, she was going to wear a paper thin, gingham skirt and matching shirt. It's cute, so I gave in easily. Plus, there was no time to argue. We all had to be ready for the klieg lights! Quickly! I even wore lipstick!
When we arrived at church, we realized it was communion sunday. That meant there was an extra rail around the "stage" at church where we were to light the candles, and we would all have to walk around that rail. Plus, we got about ten minutes of instructions on using the big candle-lighting brass thing from one of the church staff. Yikes. I never knew the acolytes had such a tough job! DT and I decided to split up tasks -- he was in charge of Maria and the fire. I was in charge of David and the speaking. Wonder twin powers: Activate!
The last announcement was given and it was our turn. DT started marching down the aisle with Maria holding the flame, and David and I followed (with lots of oohing and aahing because I held his hand and let him toddle down the aisle by himself). We reached the communion rails and started circling around to the opening in the back, when *poof*, the flame went out. Uh oh. DT and I looked around for some secret stash of matches, but there were none. After some uncomfortable moments where we were standing in the front of the church looking around desperately for solutions and feeling like idiots trapped on candid camera, one of the ushers rescued us.
But then -- which candles to light? None were purple. Three were blue, and one was pink. I figured we should light one blue one, and the pink, because it was closest to purple. DT was in charge of the flame, though, and opted to lift Maria up and light two blue ones. There was no loud clucking from the blue-hair ladies at church or the pastor, so that must have been an acceptable solution.
Once the flames were lit, that was my cue. I switched the mic on and started reading: "The second candle of Advent is now lit...". I was holding David in one arm with the mic, and the other hand held the paper with the lines. David wanted the mic. All 26 pounds of him went diving for it, and soon I couldn't even read the paper. DT saw me and came over to hold down David's arms. Phew.
I read the last line, which was something like "there is more happening here than we can see," and all of a sudden the congregation was laughing loudly. DT and I look over and see Maria shoveling gluten-free communion wafers into her mouth so that her cheeks are full as a chipmunk. DT went over to her, picked her up, and I quickly turned off the mic before bursting out laughing. (As he was carrying her, DT forced Maria to swallow the wafers instead of spitting them out.) Ah yes. Did I really expect a Norman Rockwell performance? From this family? We are fun, entertaining, loving, and smart, but not, necessarily, NORMAL or RULE-ABIDING.
In the two weeks since the Advent Debacle, Maria has continued to publicly defy rules. She had a grand mal temper tantrum at our friends' house when I refused to let her eat a cookie before she ate dinner. She threw rice in her friend's face at school. And after we got home from Christmas shopping yesterday, she showed us a little leather bracelet she had slipped on at the store without telling anyone and certainly without letting me pay for it. Accident? I'm not sure...
In David news, the doctor diagnosed him with another double ear infection (number 12 this year?) and measured him at 34% tall and 72% heavy. Which explains why people describe him as "solid." He is also really starting to talk. He says: Hot, Uh oh, Ball ("Bah"), Bye bye ("Bah Bah"), Up, Daddooooo, Bottle, Moo, and Woof. And, of course, he signs for "more," which should count as a whole separate word. He continues to be extremely active, and two weeks ago the day care called us 3 out of 5days to report an accident -- a bump on the head, a scratch on the cheek, etc. His other major breakthrough is that he finally sat through an entire book. It was only five pages, but he did it. (Five Little Ladybugs.) And yesterday, he got his first haircut. There were no tears, just a yawn or two:
Our motto for the day comes from the McDonald's toy stuck in our glove compartment. He is a plastic lion commemorating the Madagascar movie, and he says "Let's Go Wild!" when you move him. David used to shake him like a rattle, so that the poor thing would stutter "Let's go, let's go, llllllet's go Wild." We got sick of it and stuffed it in the glove box. Now the lion reacts to every pothole or large snowbank we hit with "Let's Go Wild!" Apparently, our children have taken his advice to heart.
