I told Craig, I'm a bad Mormon.
He laughed and asked, "Why are you a bad Mormon?"
"I don't want to go to three hours of meetings today with three kids by myself".
Then, we did it and the worst part was afterwards getting in the 180-degree van and driving home all of us red-cheeked and sweaty.
Sister L. in the pew behind us entertained Hazel and Lucy alternately, Seth was saintly through sacrament meeting and when the woman stood up to close with a prayer I watched Seth instinctively fold his arms. Something seemed to be sinking in that day.
Hazel was a bug, so wiggly at this age. Impossible to entertain with anything for more than ten seconds.
The speaker told me (the collective congregation) what a good mom I was for coming and struggling with the children. That it was good for them. I believed her and choked down a "feeling-sorry-for-me" lump.
I also learned from a wise man that education, or the pursuit of, is a form of worship. I believed him.
After, we relaxed at home with ice-cold root beer and cookies.
Now, one in bed already, nap-deprived and two in the bath.
Not so bad. I believe I may be a "not-so-bad" Mormon after all.