Family time on Sunday

Today was different. 

Now twin one and two are at school the pressure is really on me and he who helped create them to have proper ‘family time’ at the weekend.  God forbid in their therapy sessions later in life they comment that we stunted their development in life by occasionally staying in on the weekend and not hitting every farm, playground, duck pond, and theme park in a 25 mile radius.

However today we had something that had to be done and to be honest we have been putting it off for some time.

We had to go to church…..

Now don’t get me wrong we weren’t putting it off because of religious fear, or because we thought the severity of my blaspheming would get me struck by lightening the moment I walked near a stained glass window.  We were putting off because quite frankly twin boy has the attention span of a goldfish with Alzheimer’s and a foghorn for a voice; Church is often ‘difficult’ for him.

However beautiful baby needs a christening so it was with fear in our hearts that we called the Reverend and warned him that we were coming to service.  The Reverend is a nice chap and I know he normally means it when he says they don’t expect children to behave immaculately during the service however twin boy does like to push this to the extreme.

So firstly my mission for the morning is to get everyone suitably attired, fed and out of the house by 9.30am. 

Challenge one:

To get twin boy out of England football kit and into ‘smart’ clothes.   He like his father is still in denial that the world cup is over and once again we failed to make any impact within it. The process of removing his second football skin firstly involves a conversation explaining we need to wear nice clothes to church, then after 34 ‘whys?’ the inner shouty demon in me begins to fight the inner calm loving mother that I normally am (!).  Within seconds the shouty demon wins and I turn into my mother saying everything I swore I would never say to my children, oh yes, all the classics come out:

‘Because I said so that’s why’ – didn’t work on me – doesn’t work on him!

‘Just do what you are told!’ – and now the count rises to 35 ‘whys’

The infamous ‘I am going to count to 3’ – this one occasionally works, both my children seem to have fear of the number 3 – however today luck is not on my side and I get to 3, nothing happens and so the football kit stays on.

I resort to my favourite which is said with total exasperation;

‘just do it (dramatic pause) now!’

Yep, still doesn’t work, twin boy is still unfazed happily bouncing around in England kit saying it’s ok he can play football with Jesus.  So I resort to my best technique of persuasion and five minutes later twin boy is happily sitting in smart shorts and shirt albeit with an unsightly pink milkshake moustache.  I have timed it to perfection; the’ e’ numbers should kick in just as we arrive in church.

Now we have a spot of good luck and bad luck when we get to church, we discover that they take the children out for part of the service to ‘play’!  Free childcare! They even offered to take beautiful baby as well.  The bad luck being that someone was having their child christened in the service so the pressure was really on for our children to behave.

So this is how it went;

We are all sitting quietly listening to the sermon, waiting for the first hymn to be sung because that is when twin one and two will depart to ‘play’ and he who helped create them and I will be able to relax with just one baby to look after between us.  Twin boy suddenly begins to twitch, and a slow smile breaks across his face; he reaches up to me and pulls at my arm to gain my attention.  On my best church behaviour I lean down and ask what is wrong in my loving caring super kind mummy voice.

‘Mummy’ he whispers ‘mummy I need the toilet’

Ok it’s not an emergency yet,

Before I can even stand to scour the church for a toilet, he tugs again at my arm, at this point I notice he who helped create them smiling as I realise that he distracted me earlier in the seating arrangement and so only I can deal with this.

‘Mummy’ he whispers with a little more power in his words ‘did you hear me I need the toilet’

In the background the reverend starts to welcome the parishioners and the christening party and it may be my imagination but I see him glance nervously at our pew in the back.

‘Mummy’ – I jump to attention as foghorn is back in full voice.  The old church building works fantastically as a projector for his voice rivalling the reverend and his microphone.  Twin boy’s voice works up to crescendo level

‘I need a poo and it is falling out of my bottom now’

It’s a Code Red!

 I scramble out of my seat, tripping over the immense nappy bag containing everything needed for a simple church trip, nappies, toys, raisins and bibs start to seep onto the floor in terrifying volume ‘Christ’ I mutter under my breath. 

Twin girl starts to shriek

 ‘you said Christ, you said Christ’. 

The reverend starts to twitch at the altar and throws more nervous glares in our direction and continues to talk about Jesus welcoming everyone into his heart.  Twin girl pricks up her ears even more so and bellows

‘mummy he said Jesus – that’s a naughty word’

Hmmmm we have not yet explained context to our children and as I said it has been a while since we went to church so she tends not to hear about JESUS, son of God, but more ‘Jesus how did you get a raisin up your nose’

Meanwhile back on the bench twin boy starts to hop from leg to leg sending chairs spinning whilst furiously gripping his backside and crying ‘I need a poo now’.

He who helped create them gazes adoringly at beautiful baby desperately trying to give off the impression that he was merely unlucky to have chosen to sit on the same aisle as mad lady with the unhinged twins.

I scoop twin boy up quickly scanning the floor with my eye for any escaping pepples, I see none and relief sweeps over me momentarily  in that so far I have not become the mum of the boy who pooed on the church floor.

‘nowwwwwwwwww mummmmmmmmmmmy’ screeches the boy,

‘Jesus, Jesus’ chants the girl

The lovely old lady at the back of the church starts to wring her hands and rock on her heels.  She gestures to a door with fear in her eyes that twin boy is about to christen the floor.  I run like I have never ran before trying to ignore the looks coming from the mother of the child to be christened and finally end up in a church loo with a small boy who in turn produces the world’s smallest piece of poo and laughs as it deposits itself firmly and quietly in the toilet.

‘hmmmm’ he grins to himself ‘I could have held it but church is boring isn’t it mummy’

As my heart slows to its normal rate I think – not anymore it isn’t!

Can’t wait for the christening……