I blow you up ... BOOM

This past Saturday was Princess's First Communion. Pictures to follow provided that Hubby gets back from his business trip and remembers to offload his camera. I don't have a card reader for the behemoth memory cards on his SLR. Anyway, Princess was dressed in a sleeveless Cinderella pick up skirt tea length white satin gown. Her hair was up in a big pouffy bun (ala Carrie Bradshaw in Sex In the City) and she wore my handmade veil under it and a rhinestone/pearl tiara in the front. Around her neck she wore my mother's gold cross which Lola gave to her that morning. She wore brand new white shoes with 1.5 inch heels. By the end of mass, I was holding those heels while Princess ran around shoeless. To complete her ensemble, Princess wore white gloves that went up to her elbows. She looked like a real princess. She just needed a scepter and cape.

The kids were asked to be there at 3pm so that they could have their formal portraits taken. I took advantage of my early arrival to reserve seating for the 18 people who were going to be coming to witness Princess's First Communion. We had Lola, Uncle Dwight, who came from Hawaii, Uncle Norm, Aunty Bridget, Cousin Katie, who came over on the ferry, Uncle Davey, Aunty Jan, their kids Alex & Ashley 4 y.o. and Aidan 18 mos., Grams, Gramps, and Aunty Di who came from California. I went to my car and got out every piece of clothing I could find. Came out with a raincoat, hat, bandana, umbrella, paperback, and a bunch of Monopoly money that the now defunct dollar store used to give out as coupons. So I laid out said items and sprinkled a bunch of reserved signs made with the play money all over the pews. Then I waited.

Aside from a couple of snarky comments from people who came later and I told that I had reserved the 2.5 pews, people were pretty receptive to me having reserved the spots. To the one lady who exclaimed in disbelief, "3 pews!" I say, 'Chick, I was here for over 2 hours before you moseyed your way to get a seat so shut it. And peace be with you.' In my head of course.

Grandparents and our family took the front pew and the uncles, aunts and cousins took the 2nd. We had a couple of friends in the 3rd. It all worked out pretty well. Except for when the homily started.

The way the church is situated, the main lectern is on the left side of the altar (stage right). We happened to be seated in the first 3 rows of pews directly to the left of the lectern. We were pretty much spitting distance from our priest. So when the homily started, Fr. Emmett (who is a very sweet man) started talking about Pentecost -- a pretty big day in our faith -- celebrating the Holy Spirit's coming to the apostles and giving them the gift of tongues. One might argue that the Spirit was moving my 2 nephews and my niece. After all, are we not instructed to make a joyful NOISE unto the Lord?

So all during the homily, there were some gender clarifications: "Mommy, Alexander called me a boy. I'm not a boy. I'm a girl." There were also some threats of violence: "I blow you up. BOOM!" And general discontent voiced by the youngest of the 3: your basic baby cry. All this peppered by my brother and sister-in-law's desperate whispers of shush, put that down, don't touch that, quiet, etc. It gave me a major case of the church giggles. You know the kind where you can't laugh out loud but your body can't help but laugh so your shoulders start shaking up and down.

Hubby's sister Diane waited to see the famous church pinch that my mother used to deliver to us on a weekly basis. You know the kind right at the back of the arm on a nerve apparently connected to your voice box. One well placed pinch and you are effectively silenced for the remainder of the service. My mother wasn't sitting in the same row as the kids so only could give a stern look which was miserably ineffective. When asked why the pinches weren't delivered, she said simply, "I couldn't reach." She also hoped that nobody would notice the family resemblance and that she could pretend that those grand babies were not hers.

For his part, Fr. Emmett made every effort not to look in our direction. He truly is a soft touch. One can only hope that he didn't hear the ruckus, that he may have left his hearing aid out... but I suspect that everybody heard them. My friend Steve had arrived late to the service and was sitting clear across the church away from us. When we talked about what the kids were saying, Steve said, "That was you? I heard that."

For the rest of the visit with my brother and his family, our catch phrase was, "I blow you up ... BOOM!"

I can't wait to see them again. Even if I get blown up several times a day.