I was very proud of myself. Of all of us actually.
We went to church on a Sunday. We actually got out of bed, put on our shiny best, got into the car (with only a mild bit of cursing and hitting and melting down) and drove ourselves to the sanctuary. Hallelujah. On time.
I hopped out of the car. Opened the back door for my littles to exit the vehicle and they marched behind me in a single file into the side entrance of the church, like a sweet little family.
I stood in the back of the church, wanting to take my family into the cry room (because it’s just easier and when Soledad and Phoebe start fighting nobody cares because Little Joey in Pew 2 is drawing on the walls, and Sallie Sister is eating Cheetos off the floor, all while Baby Bobby is screaming at the top of his lungs.) But I didn’t. Because the last time I did that, Warwick refused to sit with us. He sat in the ACTUAL church all by himself, while I sat in the cry room with my 4 girls, wondering if we were going to get a divorce. You know, because I was so mad at him for not sitting with us in that horrid room, and he was so mad at me for even suggesting that he should.
It’s CHURCH, for goodness sake, Nicole! Don’t you think we should at least hear what the priest is saying?
Anyway. I didn’t do that. I was more Christian-like. Like one should be if they are in a Christian church and trying to emulate that type of behavior. Like I said, on this day, I was all about the love.
Loving my kids.
Loving my husband.
Loving that I had actually gone to church and could do whatever I wanted for the rest of the day because its like running a marathon. . .you totally get to eat what you want for the next week with no worries because you’re awesome.
And then 30 minutes passed.
And Soledad starting coughing. A Lot. Right before the “sign of peace.” (which is the part of the service where everyone shakes hands with anyone and everyone seated around you. . .saying. . .peace be with you. . .peace be with you. . .peace be with you. . and if its your relative or friend you can totally give them a kiss. . .but not frenchies. . .it’s not a make out session).
Soooo. We started doing this. Sticking our hands out to those around us and saying “peace be with you.” I think it’s the kids favorite part of the service because suddenly they get to move around a little and talk. A breath of fresh air (if you will) after holding it in for an hour straight.
So then the guy in front of us turns around, BIG GIANT WILD SMILE. He looks down at Soledad and says,
“Hey SICKY SICKY SICK KID! I don’t shake hands with coughers!” Then he stared at her 48 seconds.
Then, he looked at me, smiled and turned around.
I don’t think I smiled back at him. I’m pretty sure I didn’t. I’m thinking I squinted my eyes, bunched up my nose, and thought ridiculously unchristian like thoughts in a sacred place about him.
My entire weeks worth of love and goodwill toward man, ruined.
I’m still paying penance for the thoughts that I had toward him.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I can’t get him out of my HEAD!!!
WHY foolish man did you even turn around to tell a 7-year-old you didn’t want to shake her hand??? It’s not as if she cares. It’s not as if you weren’t creepy looking anyway. It’s not as if you are without a single germ on YOUR body.
Geez. Louise. It was just allergies!!! Coughing and wheezing due to pollen! POLLEN! RAGWEED! DANDER! You, smiling while saying mean things person!
And why am I writing about you when I should be writing about love and warmth and giddy feelings in my belly???
I’ll tell you why. Because I love you Mr. Man. Mr. Man that is rude and quite possibly crazy. I love you . . not the same way I love my husband, or my kids, or my mom, dad or sister. But I love you.
Because I have to.
Because Jesus told me to. And because if I continue to love you, I get extra bonus brownie points for being a Christian and those bad thoughts I had earlier get wiped away on God’s Naughty List.
Plus. I get to eat these cookies, which just foster love through and through.
I love you Mr. Rudey Pants. Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope you get some manners.
Fudge Brownie Cookie with White
Chocolate Chips and Pecans
Make a batch of these up lickety split. 9 minutes tops! Score up some brownie points of your own:)
1 box of brownie mix
2 eggs, beaten
6 TB canola oil
2 TB water
½ cup flour
½ cup white chocolate chips
1/2 cup pecans, chopped
1. Preheat oven to 350. In a large bowl, combine brownie mix and flour. Add eggs, oil, and water. Stir well until combined. At least 50 strokes.
2. Next, add the white chocolate chips and pecans and fold into batter thoroughly.
3. Drop by spoonfuls onto a parchment lined cookie sheet. Bake for 9-11 minutes or until the edges begin to dry. Cool on racks or just eat them hot from the oven. It’ll burn your mouth, surely, but you won’t even care because they cookies are so dang good.