FunnyKid and I had two funerals to attend this week (the Pretend Husband jokes that we're becoming professional mourners... hmmm, I wonder if I could make any money at it?) At the first one, FunnyKid was one of a handful of children so it wasn't as noticeable if he made a little noise. He cooed a little and made some other happy noises and then fell asleep on my shoulder for the final few minutes. I didn't have to get up and do that quick, embarrassed walk down the aisle as my child screamed and I was grateful for my little angel.
The funeral we attended today? It went a little differently. First of all, it was funeral for a priest that was celebrated by the archbishop in a stone chapel that echoed really well (I'm sure you can imagine how thrilled FunnyKid was to discover how well his sounds bounced around). On top of the fact that FunnyKid was the only child there (and I was the only other person under the age of 50), he hadn't had a chance to breastfeed before we left the house and this funeral, like the one the day before, fell right in the middle of his usual naptime.
Remember that quick, embarrassed walk I mentioned? I did it. Twice. In heels. As 30 priests tried to concentrate on what was going on. But we got through it and even had at least half a dozen people compliment FunnyKid on his behavior (OK, they were older and perhaps a little hard of hearing, but it still counts!) I'm giving myself an A for the first funeral and a C- for the second (I should have fed FunnyKid earlier). While it might not qualify me for Mother of the Year (I'm sure I was out of the running the day I pinched FunnyKid's hand with his sunglasses), I'm happy to be maintaining a B average.
So many books...
2 years ago