Jesus loves the little children - Mom however...

Before I resume I have to thank my good friend and college roommate, Patti for the great gift she got me for my recent landmark birthday. I appreciate the replacement of my 'fake shit' since its untimely loss at my sons' elementary school. See My Son Was Framed blog for details.

Now to the topic of the evening - church. Now WAIT. Don't you dare leave early from this blog or sit way in the back of the computer. No matter what your religion.

I realize if you are not Catholic this won't have exactly the same meaning - but be it synagogue, temple or shrine, all places of worship are challenging to the small child in us. Especially when we were small children. When it came to sitting for long periods of time and listening to mass said entirely in Latin (as it was for a while when I was small) you could say I was like a kid with A.D.D. on amphetamines. In other words, I wasn't exactly focused.

I tried, Lord knows I tried, but when I began attending church we couldn't eat anything before hand. The low blood sugar mixed with the youthful adrenalin did nothing for my devout demeanor. On at least one occasion I recall two nuns setting me down after carrying out my limp, unconscious body from the pew into the fresh air to revive me. I guess today that would be called "March of the Penguins." No harm intended Sister Helene.

When I wasn't attending mass at school, I was there on Sunday with my folks and my brother. I am sure whatever Father was saying was very interesting, but to me, not as interesting as the open purse of the lady in the pew in front of me. This time it was my mother dragging my very conscious body outside to give me a spanking with her hair brush. Not very Christian of her now that I think of it.

I am bringing up church because tomorrow is Sunday and I will need to go through the whole long process of forcing my boys out of bed and getting them to the church on time. Not an easy morning at my home. Over the years I have found my solace and renewal at mass and the ritual is important to my family. Although I don't do the hair brush thing, I have had my share of reigning in my youngest as his attention spans turns to something under the pew or how loud he can make the kneeler sound when it hits the ground.

The mass may no longer be in Latin, but small kids understand it just the same.