The Kids are Alright

I think you all need to give me a stirring round of applause.  Why?  Because I was released as the Primary President yesterday and I didn't cry once...at church.  At home - different story.  Marvel at my self control!!! I've known it was coming for a few weeks now - which made last week's primary program even more of a tear-fest, and I actually have felt for some time now that it was imminent - I'm still the stake girls camp director and I made it clear that it was only through many, many miracles that I was able to do both this past year and that, while I was willing to do it again, maybe we shouldn't tax heaven so much the next time around.  So I was prepared.

But do you know what I wasn't prepared for?  How much I would love working in the Primary.  Before I got in I would hear people say, "I love being in Primary.  It's the best job in the whole church," and I was certain they were saying that just to make themselves feel better about the whole thing.  Because who wants to spend 2 hours of every Sunday with 40 kids making sure they don't poke someones eye out when you could be having deep doctrinal discussions with adults? 

Um, I do.  Because those kids are awesome.  They made me laugh every single week.  And they sometimes said the most profound and really sweet things.  And we got to sing a lot.  Remember how freaked out I was about the whole thing?  As all the kids were filing in on Sunday, giving me hugs and high fives, I felt like a total pro.

Next church adventure:  Nursery Assistant.  That's right - I'll be hanging with the toddler set, eating gold fish crackers and playing with bubbles.  I'm thinking of instituting nap time. 

Candy Corn Cuteness

Happy Halloween (tomorrow)!  My ward has already had their party.  I went as a candy corn

My cuteness knows no bounds.

It's felt, natch.  But the flash gave it a sheen, thus making me look like Judy Jetson in her space age ice cream parlor uniform.  I added that orange band around the hat because without it looked like the Pope's.

In other news:  We had our Primary sacrament meeting presentation* today and the kids KNOCKED IT OUT OF THE PARK.  They were so calm and poised and not a single one of them showed any sign of nerves.  Even my little four year old who refused to say his part in any of the practices we had finally lifted his head and spoke into the mic.  They all sang loud and clear and were so sweet and funny and cute.  Ugh, those kids.  They're the best.

*Mormon Glossary:  The 3-11 year old set gets to take over the main portion of church and share what they have been learning.  It is, by far, the best Sunday of the year.  Aside from them being so sweet and adorable you know that at any moment one of them could absolutely lose it.  It's kind of thrilling.

How hard can it be to accidentally be shot into space?

1.)  Remember how I told you that my niece was cuter than your niece?  I meant it.  She is Miss Eliza Jean the Beauty Queen.

2.)  In other news:  KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS, COULD PRIMARY HAVE BEEN ANY MORE OF A MAD HOUSE TODAY?  To say that being both the Primary president and the stake girls camp director was kind of a big undertaking is like saying the Grand Canyon is kind of a big hole.  But for the most part they have only converged slightly over the last 5 months and I've had a lot of help from very wonderful people and it's been manageable as well as miraculous.  So it just figures that on the day before I leave for camp we are short eight people - EIGHT PEOPLE - in primary and the kids seemed to have OD'd on lunatic pills.

3.)  In other, other news:  I watched Space Camp the other night (jealous?) for the first time in years and found myself a little let down that I'm not an astronaut.  It was my dream as a kid to go into space.  The first time I watched that movie at a cousins' slumber part at my grandparent's house I vividly remember thinking, "Those kids are SO LUCKY to have been accidentally shot up into space."  And I was desperate to go to space camp because, you never know, maybe I could be so lucky.  Who wants to join me in my letter writing campaign to NASA to 1.) reinstate the space shuttle program (let's not talk about my heartbreak over that) and 2.) institute a new Writers of Humorous Anecdotes in Space program.  Also, did you know that Joaquin Phoenix is in that movie?  As a young lad?  When he went by the name Leaf?  Crazytown.

Inconvenient

Do you know when a really inconvenient time to get the stomach flu is?  When you are in charge of a cub scout pack meeting and a girls camp pre-camp orientation on back to back nights.  Yes, my friends, very inconvenient.  I have spent the last 2 days trying my hardest not to vomit and/or pass out while talking to large groups of people.  These past 48 hours have reaffirmed my belief in miracles, ginger ale, anti-bacterial wipes and my mule-headed determination to never throw up.

Even the appearance of poo

Last night was the Blue and Gold Dinner for the cub scouts commemorating 101 years of scouting.  I wanted to find some of those awesome scout socks, you know, the green ones with the red stripe on top, but as knee high socks make me look about 2 inches tall I didn't try too hard.  Let's talk about how funny 8-11 year old boys are.  Sure, if left to their own devices they would tie you up with their neckerchief and tell you fart jokes until you plead for mercy, but they'll be so funny while they're doing it that you'll barely notice the younger ones lighting your toes on fire.  It's charming in a Lord of the Flies sort of way. 

The boys each had to make a cake to celebrate and they were all funny or creative or fancy (thanks to their moms).  But one was just flat out repulsive looking.

Behold, the kitty litter cake.  (And no, I'm not going to post a picture of it on here.  The link will have to suffice.  Because it's gross.)

Everyone said it was delicious but I couldn't bring myself to look at it, let alone eat it.  On principle, you see.  I don't believe in eating things that have the appearance of poo.  No matter how funny or clever it may be.  And cats give me the creeps for the very reason that they claw around in their own toilet and then claw around your pants.  Or worse, your kitchen counter.  For the love of all that's good and holy, people, DON'T LET YOUR CATS ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER!!!!  Okay, I'm over it.  Back to the cake.  I thought it was fitting that a cub scout would make such a thing.  But I'm still feeling a little queasy just thinking about it. 

Surprise Primary Fieldtrip

(I was about to tell you the story of how 10 years ago this weekend I found myself having one and only encounter with NASCAR when I watched the Daytona 500 race where Dale Earnhardt died, but NASCAR bores me so much that I can't even bring myself to write about it without falling asleep on my keyboard.  So here's a wee little story from Primary.)

We were in Jr. Primary (the 7 and under crowd) and about to start some singing when suddenly the fire alarm goes off.

Me:  Kids, please line up at the door behind your teachers in case we have to go outside
The Kids:  AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I rush down to the Sr. Primary classes to make sure they're okay and find out that it's a false alarm so I head back to find the little ones walking single file behind their teachers, arms folded and not saying a word.  This show of reverence was such a novelty that I instantly wanted to high five them.  I refrained and I let them enjoy 5 minutes outside while they reset the alarm.

I didn't realize dinosaurs were in Bethlehem

My stake has this nativity festival every December with over 1000 nativity scenes and lots of community choirs singing and it's one of those things that simultaneously makes me love Christmas but also makes me want to check out the Catholics.  Because my soul fights against giant church productions like this.  I get exhausted just thinking about all the work that goes into it (of which I do practically none of).  And I whine and whinge about how many times I have to drive the whole 2 minutes to the church to help with this or that (4 times so far).  And why can't I just stay at home in my jim-jams and also, wah!  Until I get there and see how lovely it is and how so many people enjoy it and every time I go I see people I love and end up chatting for hours and then I change my scroogey attitude and let the Christmas Blue Bird of Happiness nestle in my heart again. 

Last night the primary kids were singing so I headed down and when I got there I walked into the room where they were waiting to go on to see if I could help and ended up playing hall-monitor/circus clown while they were lined up.  I have every good intention of teaching children the importance of reverence in church but kids are just so entertaining.  For example:  they do funny things on demand.  I had them pretend that they were spies lined up against the wall.  I made them practice singing with feeling and we flailed our arms about like we were opera stars.  I high-fived them all as they walked into the chapel - and then told them to fold their arms.  I am no good at being an example of saintly reverence.  But I certainly know how to have fun with them.

And now for a note on nativity scenes:  There are A LOT of them at this thing.  Over 1000.  Some are beautiful.  And some are made of teddy bears.  Or moose.  Or cats.  Or puppy dogs.  One had dinosaurs in it and a halo made of a gold candy wrapper.  I realize that some of you out there may have a creche that fits into this whimsical category.  It is well documented how much I love the whimsy.  And I certainly don't want to get all judge-y about the myriad and, I'm sure, very personal ways people bring about the Christmas Spirit.  And I love you and we're friends.  But really, a moose? 

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On an entirely unrelated note:  we had a special occasion this morning (which included so much laughing that Laura barely managed to say, "I'm about to pee my pants!!!").  It called for Special Occasion Orange French Toast.  Folks, you need to make this.  And then you need to get a good cardiologist. 

You mean you haven't even TRIED to crash?

I went to a cub scout pack meeting tonight (Thanks to my responsibilities in Primary I have been immersed in the world of 8-10 year old boys. They are a charming pack of lunatics in neckerchiefs and I love them.) A pilot was the guest speaker and here is a sampling of the questions the boys asked:

"Have you ever had an emergency landing?"
"If your engine overheats will your plane explode?"
"If you go too fast will your plane explode?"
"Have you ever had really bad turbulence or been struck by lightening?"
"Has your landing gear ever failed?"
"Have you ever crashed?"

The poor guy had to answer no to all of these question. They were mildly impressed when he said that the plane would start breaking apart if it went too fast but he lost points when they all realized he hadn't actually attempted it. What's the point of doing something with so much potential for grave bodily harm if you're not really going to go for it?

I'm not talking about True to the Faith

I was going to tell you that even though I haven't been the ward organist for four months the one day that I am asked to sub is the day we sing True to the Faith and how the number of times I have had to play that song on the organ in this ward has entered into ridiculous levels and how, when I mentioned this to the chorister she said, "No, we've maybe only sung it twice," and how I refrained from being snarky and reminding her that last year we did, in fact, sing it twice...IN ONE MONTH and that I may still be holding a grudge that only gets worse the more I have to play it and how I am now determined to learn that song IF IT KILLS ME! Which it probably will. If my ward really wants a laugh they will play that as the closing hymn at my funeral.

But no, I'm not going to tell you about it because clearly I'm a bit sensitive about it. Instead I'm going to tell you that we had an Olympic themed Primary activity on Saturday and it was hilarious fun. We had the kids doing speed skating on paper plates and bobsledding on sleeping bags. They curled and played hockey and made flags and had a parade of nations and got gold medals at the end. Oh it was fun. I love those kids. They make me laugh. And they don't care that I can't play True to the Faith.

Kids!

Knights of Columbus, folks. I'm the new Primary President*. Eek! I was asked two weeks ago so I've had that long to freak out because I don't know a thing about kids. I also don't know a thing about Primary. Aside from a couple of subbing gigs on the piano, I haven't actually been in Primary since I was in Primary, as a Merry Miss**, WHICH THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE ANYMORE!

I'm rather intimidated by the whole thing. Every other responsibility I've had in the church I have felt marginally prepared for. But not primary. I don't even know half the songs they sing in there anymore. What are the names of the classes? What are the names of the kids? Would it be acceptable for me to make them talk in funny accents strictly for my own amusement? Because you know eventually I'm going to get the urge to do that.

So, yes, I'm slightly freaked out about this. And I'm not looking forward to all those meetings (before I left church yesterday I had entered 5 on my calender just for this week! I've been living the Life of Elegant Leisure in Sunday School for the last 3 years so I suppose I'm due.) But more than anything I'm kind of excited. The fact that kids will even go along with the whole funny accent bit is proof enough that I'm dealing with a great group. Plus they're cute. And there are generally stickers and snacks involved. Bonus!

Do you want to place bets now on how long it will be before I teach them all how to shimmy?

Don't speak Mormon? Here, let me help:

*Primary is the children's group in my church. It's for kids 18 months to 11 years. And just like every organization in the church people are asked to work in it as teachers and leaders. But unlike every other organization in the church Primary, as Teresa mentioned in a previous comment, is like wrangling cats.

**One of the bygone names for a Primary class.