Bragging rights

It's no secret that I've found parenting Patrick to be both a tremendous joy and insane challenge. He's a delight, but he ain't an easy one. Given the scope of some of our struggles (The Great Shoving Phase of 2010), I've defaulted to an annoying helicopter parent. While it's often warranted, I worry about always riding his tushie.

But I had the opportunity this past Sunday to challenge both Patrick and myself. Kevin was working, and I was singing with the worship team at church. Patrick has been edging towards wanting to "be in church" with us rather than in the nursery, or the "playroom" as I call it. But I'm singing, therefore not able to corral Mr. Impulse Control during the 60 minute service. I make sure he knows the deal: Mommy is singing and he'll need to be quite and sit by himself sometimes. Does he want to be in church or in the playroom? Church it is, and God help us all.

Pre-service rehearsal and I have both kids with me. Patrick watches the bass player and drummer. Fiona is either held by me or toddling around with money clenched in her fist. They are both great and keep it together so we can practice. Then Fiona is off to the playroom without difficulty and Patrick and I head to church.

We sit close to the front so he can see me, in our own pew so he can wander a bit. After opening prayers, I hand Patrick my IPod (sound off) and head up front.

And he does amazing. He's wonderful the ENTIRE TIME. I was sitting with him approximately 35% of the time (I did the readings as well since Kevin was stuck at work during his turn). He was quiet, didn't wander beyond our pew, no freak outs or tears. In fact, when I sat with him he'd say, "I was very quite Mommy. I was a good listener!" We has some very nice snuggles during the sermon and non-singing times. Lots of praise, lots of positive reinforcement.

Then comes the offering. I give Patrick a dollar to place in the Hunger Basket, but then run up front, leaving poor Patrick at a loss for what to do. He gets up to find the guy with the plate, watches some other kids put money in, up and down the aisle he goes. Finally he sticks the dollar in his mouth like a dejected puppy with a treat and slowly walks back up the aisle. I can't look at him to help because I'm nearly hysterical with laughter and am just barely holding it together. A friend notices my poor boy, takes him to the basket and plops him on her lap for a few minutes. I hear a few gentle laughs as he sits down.

At the very end, I get up to sing the last song. Pastor Rebecca is sharing Parish Life for the week. Patrick has gravitated to the front pew, and I see his little brain at work. Mom is up there. I am down here. By myself. She's been kinda busy up there. What can I do with this? He starts bouncing and dancing in his seat. As the song starts, he gets out of his seat and rolls around on the ground. He catches my eye with a naughty grin. Without breaking my stride, I shoot him a look and point my finger back to his seat. The universal Get-Your-Ass-In-That-Seat mom move. And he does it! Wahoo! I am awesome!

I praised him, I let him hear me praise him after service, and I made a big deal about telling Kevin in Patrick's hearing about his success at church. And I reminded myself that my sweet boy just might be able to rise to the occasion. I just have to ask.