Fall Lineup & Bible Study Woes

Fall Lineup

There are some seriously great shows coming on this fall.

Did you watch New Girl? Very funny.

How about Up All Night? Has potential to be very funny.

Parenthood? Best show on television since Friday Night Lights is kaput.

Of course there’s the oldies but goodies: House, Modern Family, and Parks and Recreation (does not get near enough publicity).

Am I missing any? And don’t say The Office. It is dead to me.

Oh, of course. Let’s don’t forget Most Eligible Dallas. Just kidding. It’s more than embarrassing to Dallas/Fort Worth residents. And humans everywhere.

Bible Study Woes

Last week I decided to get serious about finding things to do during the week besides wasting my life away with Bones marathons on Netflix, lemon cake from Sam’s, and dirty diapers so I emailed a lady about a women’s Bible study class.

She told me about an orientation class I needed to attend to learn more and to register. She also told me ahead of time there was no childcare available during the orientation.

No big deal…I’ll just bring Beckett in with me. Easy enough.

I’m super intimidated to be at this place with several hundred other women. When I say women, I mean real women of the adult variety. Since I’m commonly mistaken for a high school student, I always feel like an adult imposter, like maybe I need a few more years of young adulthood before I become a full-fledged woman. 

I’m also super nervous bringing in a baby, especially since everyone else’s kids are in childcare. Beckett could freak out at any moment and I’m not entirely sure I know how to calm him down yet. I’ll be forced to try parenting my new baby with potentially 400 professional moms watching. 

If I still feel like an “adult imposter”, I sure as heck am wondering how long it is until I’m considered a real mom. I feel sure a lot of people have similar thoughts when becoming a momma for the first time, right? It seems weird that I, the one with spit-up on my leggings and poop under my fingernails, can join the ranks of the 80 year old mothers who have raised 19 kids, 46 grandkids, 99 great-grandkids, etc. Am I allowed to use the same title as them?

Oh well. Into the class I go feeling overly confident. False.

I managed to at least shower this morning so I’m feeling on top of the world. Little did I know, the hosts of this class are wearing their Sunday best, making southern women everywhere proud. Really put together, never without a smile, the perfect shade of lipstick within reach, etc. Think Beth Moore.

{nervously clears her throat}

Remember that little fact about my inadequate car seat carrying skills? It’s really embarrassing in a jam-packed auditorium full of women wanting to ooh and aah over a baby while simultaneously trying to get past me, my car seat, my diaper bag that doubles as a suitcase, and my Starbucks drink (precious cargo). I only slam the car seat into about 12 pews and 37 womens’ legs. 

About the Starbucks drink – is this one of those churches where bringing food into the sanctuary is the worst sin imaginable? I feel like an idiot.

After the huge class breaks into groups, it leaves only 25 or so orientation-ers. I sit in the back for a quick escape in the event of a newborn meltdown.

Beckett doesn’t have a meltdown, but he does have the hiccups. The loud kind. The kind that occur about every 3 seconds. In other words, we are doing great at being incognito.

It’s ok though, because all the women in front of me (all of whom are at least 3 decades older than me) turn around periodically and smile that weird whimsical/reminiscent smile that happens when older moms see little babies. They think his hiccups are precious.

Have you heard a newborn poop? It’s comparable to a nuclear explosion – bomb sound and all.

In between hiccups, Beckett finds a dead silent moment of the class to be an appropriate time for one of his explosions.

As I attempt to blend into the pew, I’m wishing with all my might that these women remember what baby explosions sound like instead of assuming the 17 year old mom on the back row is having flutter-valve trouble. 

We still have time to recover. Oh – except now he’s starting to wail because he’s hungry. Is this an appropriate place to whip out my feeding equipment? These women look pretty proper and I’m still unsure where Texans stand on the whole breastfeeding-in-public debacle. They aren’t always known for being the most down-to-earth women. Plus, I spotted another nursing mom hidden in a corner of the bathroom. I don’t want to be the scandalous one who busts out my stylish yet modest udder cover in public. (Udder cover is a real product brand. Highly recommended – if not for the modesty while nursing, certainly for the clever name.)

This is turning out to be a very stressful trip out of the house.

Long story long, I did bust out my cover and I nursed the heck out of my baby. Know why? Because it’s very natural and very beautiful. And because someone finally told me about the pew in the very back for nursing moms. Well, and that other lady stole the secret breastfeeding nook of the bathroom.

We ended up leaving early because the meltdown finally came. Him, not me. I at least waited until we got home.

It’s a vicious yet endearing cycle of emotions. The meltdown is bound to come:

Here’s to next Wednesday, and to chilling out a little and actually listen to the lecture…it’ll be good.

{clink of non-alcoholic beverage}