Time for our weekly dose of spiritual nourishme....DON'T PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH!!!

I know there's a reason I used to go to church. I'm sure of it. I just can't seem to remember what it was. I say this because right now it seems that I go to church to sit in the foyer and watch my girls crawl around with other children who are too young for nursery. If I go to Relief Society, I spend the whole time chasing after one (or both if Jeremy isn't there) of my girls as she goes tearing up the aisle towards the poor soul who is teaching that week. When I make her sit on my lap, she cries. So I put her down and off she goes again. So.....I take her out and let her crawl around the foyer. Already there are 2 mothers and their little girls out there. Once Relief Society is over, Jeremy and I pack up the toys and head into the chapel for Sunday School. I HATE that it is in the chapel. We're just settling in when they lower the movie screen and turn the lights out. Back out to the foyer we go. Kids don't like sitting in the dark and I'm not about to break my neck running around after them when I can't see. So, we kick it in the foyer with the 3 other mothers and let our girls get all their energy out. Yeah right. We as parents collectively decide that we need to start a "pre-nursery" class where we can teach a lesson and let the kids be as loud and active as they want and nobody will care. They have actually asked people to leave regular sunday school before because their kids were making noise. Happy noises I might add. Maybe I'll approach the bishop with our new idea, after all.... Well, Sunday School finally finished and we resolutely packed up our toys, bottles, books and babies (can't forget them, darn it) and trudge into Sacrament. The meeting we all come for. The one where we are spiritually uplifted for the week. I'm trying to remember the last time I was able to hear enough of what was said for that to happen. Sigh. We make it through the passing of the sacrament quietly enough and then the girls decide that it should be over. They have had enough. We begin the mom and dad olympics of finding what toy or book will capture their interest long enough for us to find the next toy or book before the first is thrown over the back of the pew or, all too often, at our heads. Oh, the first speaker is finished? I hope it was a good talk. Rest Hymn. At this point the girls are about ready to explode so we decide, we've done good enough for this Sunday. We attended (sort of) all of our meetings, partook of the sacrament, sang a hymn or two and kept the girls quiet through at least one prayer. We pack up our stuff, and run away with our tails between our legs, beaten down once again. So now the big question looms over our heads: Why do we do this to ourselves? I guess, sometimes, it is the thought that counts. How long until nursery?