What my mother doesn’t understand is that they really do like us at church. Well, maybe not that woman who muttered “Jesus Christ” when she saw me yank Tornado A back from crawling on the pew to pass his brother to get in line for communion. But she was in another row, took God’s name in vain, and left right after communion. So the moral high ground is mine! Mwhahaha!
Yeah, but other than her, they like us. The ushers always are glad to see the boys and talk to them. The deacon is charmed by them. Several of the congregation make it a point to talk to them or me. The priest finds them amusing as they blurt out the homily for a treat or ring the gong. (Yeah, my Catholic church has a gong.) Even the traveling priests are amused by my boys. On a few occasions, one of the traveling priest has included my boys into his homily.
Any ways. I had nothing to worry about getting a seat for Sunrise Mass. The ushers would find us a seat. But we went early with my parents, bringing our own chairs, sitting on the edge, watching the sunrise.
When Tornado A complained (loudly) that he wasn’t blessed with holy water, the deacon came by and drenched Tornado A and me. As though our priest didn’t drench us thoroughly Palm Sunday. (4 times!)
During Giving Peace and after people received communion, a few people walked by to whisper how nice the boys looked. The oldest in their three piece suits with ties. Tornado A in a bow tie and suspenders. (I rock suspenders!)
After services, I sent Tornado A to gather song sheets and the older two to help collect and stack chairs. Tornado S and Tornado E both moaned, dragging a chair or two. I ended up having to hand over my purse to Tornado A to help pick up stacks of three chairs while eyeing my older two.
As we were leaving, an older gentleman came over to me.
Older Guy: Ma’am, I had to laugh when I saw your boys. My brothers and I had to get the same summer haircut.
I looked over at my three boys running through the courtyard. Their heads recently shaved, their preferred haircut.
Me: Yeah, they like it. Less work.
Older Guy: (chuckles) That it is. Happy Easter.
Me: Happy Easter.
I walked away and heard the last part of his conversation.
Older Guy: (to his female companion) Those boys have a lot of personality.
Older Woman: I can tell. Their mother must be a saint.
Oh, they do. I just happen to be a saint with a lot of personality to.