First of all, it's been so long since we've actually been to church that it would be totally hypocritical if I did. Second, if you want to perish in the pit of despair while being licked by flames from Satan's tongue, well, my sinner friend, be my guest.
Just joking. Except that part about Satan's tongue. REPENT!
Anyhoo, Lila is going to be baby Jesus. Which I'm pretty sure guarantees me a condo on the beaches of heaven if I die. And that's a big IF.
But this whole celebrity thing presents a couple of problems:
1. She actually has to go a whole ten minutes without douching herself or shitting up to her neck
2. My parenting skills are going to be put on public display as others judge whether or not I'm a good Mom and have raised a baby who can go a whole ten minutes without screaming her balls off
3. Somebody else has to hold her. And walk with her. A (probably) clumsy 15-year-old girl covered in germs and spit and cells and puberty particles and where the hell have those hands been and then she has to walk with her down an aisle then up some stairs and AAAAAAHHHHHHH!
Sorry. My head just exploded.
So yesterday we went to the rehearsal and the minute we walked in the door a couple of angels ran over to see the cute little baby. I quickly realized as I pulled her out of her car seat that she had shit up to her neck. Oh well, at least we got that out of the way. However, the smell interfered with the oxygen supply to these untrained angels' brains and they immediately passed out on the pew.
Now that I think about it they were still laying there when we left so I think they may actually be dead.
Despite my procrastinating it was time to hand her over to Mary. Once I showered Mary with a whole bottle of hand sanitizer, did a background check, got three references, performed a field sobriety test and made her run a ropes course.
Now, in situations like this I really try to be the cool Mom. The laid back Mom who chats it up with the other parents, oblivious to the fact that someone else is holding her baby. The Mom who doesn't play out every horrible scenario like Mary tripping and dropping her, coughing in her face, rubbing her germy teenage sex particles all over my baby and AAAAHHHHHH!
Sorry, my head exploded again.
But I'm not the cool Mom. I'm the Mom who stood two inches away from her face, barking orders in her ear.
"Oh honey, she likes to be held like this"
"Now slow down... this isn't a race"
"Watch out for all that frankincense and shit at your feet - don't forget about it and trip"
"Don't look her in the eye! You think you're good enough to look my baby in the eye, Stop looking her in the eye!"
But I handed her over. And actually, to my surprise things went rather smoothly.
Well, except for that one time five seconds after she got on stage when she decided she was hungry and started screaming like a banshee and tried to suck a horrified 15-year-old Mary's nipple through her robe.
I really need to have a talk with Lila about sucking other people's nipples in public.
But nobody dropped anything and so far Lila is showing no signs of whopping cough or any other communicable diseases. Besides, even if she did fall I'm pretty sure that when you fall in church you land on a billowy blanket of angel's wings made out of kittens and puppies.
But I'm not going to think about that right now. Right now I'm going to get back to designing the floor plan for my liquor cabinet in my heavenly beach house.