Home Sweet Home

So last week, the hubby and I were actually both off on Saturday (this feels rare) and decided after running some errands to drive by our *maybe* house. He’s apparently been out to visit a few times (not that we can go in, but I guess it gives him a better sense that there likely aren’t squatters – human or vermin-wise – and nothing major is falling into disrepair. As it happened, our timing was just right to go to church near our house, so we decided why not.

Now 5:30 does not tend to be optimal time to take the munchkin to church, as it is a prime eating time for her, but she mostly did OK for awhile. The people sitting near us (very near, as the church was packed!) played with her a little and were all clearly grandparents (that’s who goes to church on Saturday night, you know! I can clearly remember going then with my own grandparents if they were babysitting us. We had to arrive at least 30 minutes early so that they could get their parking spot and Grandma could get her seat – which we were not to move from! No scooting in for anyone else – we got here early and got the aisle!) and therefore found her to be adorable (which she is!). Anyway, maybe about 15 minutes in, she got a bit fussy so Dad took her out to the vestibule. After about 5 minutes, an older woman tapped me on the shoulder as she took my husband’s seat and said, I don’t think he’s coming back, do you? I’ve done this routine with him before so I knew he very likely was coming back, but am I seriously going to kick an old lady out of a seat? A seat I’m not even actually using right now? Of course as soon as she got settled in, he came back. She was about to give up the seat when the man on our other side offered up his seat instead (neither of which my husband felt comfortable taking, but eventually did come to sit by me – for about a minute until the munchkin starting crying again!). On the second cries, it was my turn to go out with her and try to feed her. I passed the man who’d just given up his seat on my way out and told him that he could probably hang on to it. Anyway, I got to the vestibule and it was pretty packed there. There were no seats to be had, so I sat on the floor, put on the feeding wrap and let the baby eat. I headed back in (as ‘my’ seat was still empty, as the other man had moved) and as I got to the row, I joked with the older woman that she might want to switch with me to give us (back) the aisle as we can be in and out a bit. I guess she thought I was asking her to move / give up her seat, as she went to stand in the back again. Now I felt like a total jerk – I just stole a seat from an old lady! At church! I tried to get her to take the remaining open seat, but I guess she’d had enough musical chairs. So we made it through the end of mass with my wondering how much time in purgatory I’d added with that one…

Anyway, we wound up talking to this other family after mass, who I’d noticed had a baby about the same age as ours. She was not their first, though. No, no… she was their EIGHTH! Yes, eighth, like after 7 and before 9 (as I don’t doubt 9 may yet be on the horizon). We asked about schools for the kids and she told me she homeschooled (8 kids! At home! All day!). My husband said, God bless you! (with the tone that said, no way would we consider that!) She started trying to sell me on how easy it really was and I started to wonder about this place we’re moving to… OK, seriously, we can only afford this house with both of us working anyway (unless this blogging thing suddenly takes off as a big moneymaker, which I’m somehow not seeing…), but also, as my husband pointed out, our child needs to leave the house and be taught by others, as she’d wind up really opinioned if she only got our views. I joked that she’d be the only kid in the very conservative Catholic homeschooling group going, but I don’t see why women can’t be priests?