So I had a nutty weekend and really need to "blog it out" as my sister-in-law Steph says. But things are too hectic so I may have to do it in pieces.
We were in NJ visiting Steph and went to church with them on Sunday. She teaches the Sunbeams (3 yr olds) so her daughter Cece is in the class. Millie was too shy to join the 6 yr olds so she made us join Steph and Cece on the front row. When it came time to introduce people, first they had this little guy Antonio stand up, also in the Sunbeams, and then Millie. The woman conducting welcomed them and then said, looking at us, "It's great you could be here with your mom. Or grandma." Grandma? GRANDMA! I cannot believe my ears and I start to giggle. Stephanie's jaw drops. Bless her for being so mortified on my behalf. Then I start doing the math. "If I had a kid at 17 and she had a kid at 17, then I could be a 40 yr old grandma." Then, "Really I'd need to be late 40's to have Millie be my grandkid--do I look like I'm pushing 50?" I just turned 40 and while I'm happy to own every year I've lived, I don't like the idea that I look a decade older. Then, "Who is this woman to judge my appearance when SHE is the one wearing suntan panty hose with a reinforced toe AND white sandals?!" So I spent the rest of opening exercises silently eviscerating this mean, insulting woman.
After class, as we are walking back to the Primary Room for sharing time, I ask Steph about Antonio, if he's new or just visiting. "Oh, his Grandma's a member and brings him...." As soon as the words are out of her mouth, the lightbulbs went on and we realize Sister Suntan Hose was referring to HIS grandma, the sweet abuelita who brought him. And then I am mortified again. At myself. At my meanness and need to "get even" mentally with that woman.
And I do this. I am "mature" enough that when offended I usually have enough control to not have to make a public scene. But internally...I can be so petty. I have arguments with people all the time. In my head (more on that another time--I got in a whopper of an imaginary fight over McDonalds recently). In my defense, I went in leary of Steph's ward. The Saturday before Easter they had a primary party and billed it as an egg hunt. But when Steph showed up with baskets in tow, the Primary President CONFISCATED them and gave her "pure white bags" instead (because colorful Easter baskets are "Satan's Satchels?!). Then the missionaries gave the kids (18months-11) a 30 minutes talk on the atonement. Then the Primary president spoke. Then there was a crucification slide show that, according to my brother-in-law Jeff, "would have made Mel Gibson proud." I'm not sure if they ever got candy. If they did, it was probably sugar-free and made from someone's food storage. Their next event is called "Carnival of Parables." I'm picturing face painting booths to make you look like a leper and games like "throw the stone at the harlot." Not that I'm judging anyone or have an attitude or anything. But I'm eager to get back to our ward this Sunday where the average age of mom's with six year olds is not 20 and where we know how to throw a good party.