"Honey, 3 things...
First, please make sure you coordinate our family so they know what to do when church is over.
Next, make sure that you leave out of service early enough to nurse and dress the baby because I don't want him to be crying and fussy during the blessing.
Finally, please make sure everyone is ready to go as soon as they call for us. I want the baby's blessing to go smoothly."
This is the "talk" given to me by hubby before we left for church on Sunday. We had invited our extended family to stand with us as our pastor prayed for and said a special blessing for the baby directly after the service.
Hubby's "talk" was one of those "I want you to understand that I'm very serious about what I am saying to you. However, I am going to speak very slowly and choose my words and tone very carefully in order to make sure you don't feel as though I'm talking down to you" talks.
He does those "talks" pretty well and I always appreciate the effort.
I really had no problem with hubby's requests. I had thought about all those things. I had a plan.
I had even considered and included extra time for the archenemies of all that is orderly and harmonious: meltdowns, vomit, and poop.
I used Saturday night to prepare. I set out clothes, gave baths, brushed teeth, packed bags, and cooked for Sunday.
On Sunday morning, I fed everyone and made sure the grandparents, the great-grandparent, and the sibling we invited knew where to go and what to do. I worked my plan.
I left out of service in enough time to nurse and change the baby and to account for any unpredictable glitches.
It was almost time for the baby to be blessed. I was almost done preparing him when I realized that little Bella needed a change. But, it was cool: I had a plan.
I quickly whisked her away to the bathroom for a change. By the smell of her, I knew it was a pretty bad poop diaper. No problem, poop was accounted for in the plan.
As I tried to change her, I realized that her dress was actually stuck to her back by a layer of poop that extended from her bottom all the way to her neck. "How in the world?" I thought to myself.
I went into problem-solving mode. But, I didn't have an extra dress for her. I tried to improvise. But, my time was winding down. I couldn't think straight anymore.
I could hear the words of my husband's "talk" ringing in my mind. My palms started to sweat. My plan was no match for a mishap of this magnitude!
So, I did the only thing that was left for me to do. I prayed one of those quick and powerful "Lord, help me!" prayers and then I called my mother-in-law in the bathroom for back-up.
Thankfully, her brain and problem-solving skills where sharper than mine at that point. We cleaned Bella up and then my mother-in-law tied her gray camisole straps in knots so that it would look like a little dress on Bella. We covered it with a blue-jean jacket so no one would see the straps and then we went upstairs just in time enough for the blessing!
I'm not quite sure what the lesson was in all of this. However, I do believe I handled the situation better than I would have in the past. I mean really, I didn't even shed one tear! This is a sign of new levels of maturity on my part;)
Here are a few pictures of us after the baby blessing.
Bella has on her "custom-made" dress in this picture.
Noah and his godparents.
My mother-in-law and Noah.
My mom and Noah.