God Punk'd Me

I decided it was finally time to return to church today. I have sort of taken some "time off" due to cycling outside, laziness, frustration with my church, kids' schedules, etc. Not hugely acceptable excuses but excuses, nonetheless. Sultan left for New Orleans and I got the three ladies of the house squeaky clean and sassy. Off to 10 o'clock mass.
After the 1st and 2nd reading mumbo jumbo I was pleasantly pleased with how well the kids were behaving. Then the priest stood up at the podium to begin his sermon. This is the part of mass where the gospel is explained and discussed at length, hopefully demystifying the archaic language in which the bible is written. Nope. Not today my friends. You know how some shit just comes to bite you in the ass? Like avoiding that student loan payment for 10 years? Or getting addicted to your son's Ritalin? My weeks and weeks of forgoing church all came to a reverent head this Sunday. Father "Life McPreacher" started to talk at great length about my FAVORITE family-appropriate subject, ABORTION. Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw. AGAIN?!!!!
I exclaimed, "Good LORD!" in a loud whisper as I craned my neck around to see if anyone else was equally annoyed. Not a one. It was like he was talking about the baby Jesus at midnight mass on Christmas Eve. The flock of followers was mesmerized by this rant. I ignored most of it as I tried to engage my kids in silly games and conversation so they wouldn't hear "tiny fetus" or "killing centers". That's right, I, a grown woman, was willingly trying to distract my kids from paying attention in church. Because God thought it was so damn funny to Punk my ass, Ashton Kutcher-style, on a Sunday. MAYBE I will go to church next weekend. I picked up the weekly bulletin so at least I can see if we will be watching the Bloody Dead Fetus Puppet Show Extravaganza or boarding a bus to hang out at a clinic and protest next week. I might skip that sermon if I see any red flags..

We left and came back an hour later because St. Francis of Assisi is a barrel of fun. We could get our pets blessed at church!! There is nothing more sweet and festive as lining up an array of dogs, cats, and guinea pigs in their carriers and harnesses to have Father sprinkle holy water on them and pray. Especially when they start fighting. Some crazy-ass dogs were snarling and going for each other's jugular veins as their leashes got tangled and owners frantically tried to tell each other, "Rascal NEVER acts this way in front of other dogs. I am so sorry! Do you think he'll need stitches?" Good holy times to be had by all. We brought Pierre who acted like he was at the damn circus for the first time, spazzing out and choking himself just so he could sniff any ass or crotch low enough to come in contact with his nose. Linny, our booty-licious guinea pig, was one of several rodents. Isabella started out holding her, wrapped in a mini fleece blankie. That is until Linny peed on her hand and she swiftly dropped her into the grass and wiped the guinea pig pee all over my jeans. Thank God this whole charade lasted only about 10 minutes. Then we were free to enjoy a shriveled hot dog lunch and pet the farm animals at the makeshift petting zoo set up in the parking lot. By this point it had begun to drizzle outside. Pierre had a face-off with an alpaca and a goat and was trying to sniff a duck's ass when he got shoved back into the Jeep. Two hot dog lunches, 5 raffle tickets, and one religious education director sighting later, we hit the road. The kids with farm animal saliva on their hands and God in their hearts and me, covered with guinea pig piss and a hankering to go buy some iron-on "Save the Fetus" logos from Joann Fabrics...