MOM: She Who Laughs, Lasts

Oct 2010 Issue

By Nettie H. Francis
I’ll never forget my worst Sunday ever. My husband was attending another ward, so I arrived at church alone with our little brood. Thanks to my missionary-minded children, we also had several neighbor kids along for the meeting. Trooping into the chapel, we sat on the second row, me on one end of the bench and the long row of children stretching out next to me. I felt like the Pied Piper, or Mother Marshmallow, or Miss Hannigan.

After the opening hymn, my baby became restless. Juggling him and my toddler, I tried to act calm through his sudden outbursts, several dropped hymnbooks and my toddler shoving a whole handful of Sacrament bread into her mouth. “How will we survive the rest of the meeting?” I silently wondered.

Shortly after the first speaker stood, I saw the Bishop hand a note to a deacon sitting next to him. The deacon arose, walked down into the congregation and handed the note to me!
With surprise, I read, “Sister Francis: There are some very frazzled mothers in the ward.
Could you please arrange an Enrichment class to train them?” Frazzled mothers! I could hardly believe what I was reading.

“Me!” I wanted to shout. “I’m a frazzled mother! Can’t you tell I’m about to lose it down here?!” Either the bishop had no idea of the struggle I was having at that very moment, or he was kindly trying to tell me to give up already and leave the chapel. ‘Maybe I should take my two youngest children to the mothers’ room for the rest of the meeting,’ I wondered.
But no, I couldn’t leave the long row of children alone in the chapel. My toddler was becoming more restless.

“I want to take a nap.” She whined. I decided to let her lie down on the empty bench in front of me. Setting my baby down, I picked the toddler up and half stood to lift her over the bench and put her on the front row. She seemed to settle down contentedly on the soft cushion, so I sat back down in my row, put my baby on my lap, and prepared to finally listen to the speaker.

Just as I started to listen, however, I was horrified to see a long, bare leg stretch straight up from the bench in front of me. Half standing again, I peered over the seat at my toddler. To my horror, she was slowly stripping, one piece of clothing at a time, right in front of the bishopric! As quickly and discreetly as I could, I set my baby on the floor and reached over the bench to grab my naked child.

Half-standing, I suddenly felt a strange sensation on my legs. Looking down, I saw that my slip, bunchy and white, had slid down around my ankles. I froze for a moment, hands stretched to my toddler, wondering which members around me could see my undergarment. After half-a-second of indecision, I reached over the bench, retrieved my prancing toddler and her garments, and then, to the entertainment of the congregation around me, stepped out of my slip and threw it into my Sunday bag.

As I sat down, my face burning red, I suddenly noticed my baby. He had escaped from the pew and was in the middle of the aisle, laughing and waving to everyone! Already feeling like a clown, I stepped into the aisle and grabbed him.

I sat back down quickly on the bench, hoping to regain some dignity. But the show wasn’t over yet. Just as my back was turned, my toddler, still half-dressed, reached into my bag and retrieved my slip. Sitting up on the bench, she began flinging it around her head like a lasso and smiling to the crowd.

I could take no more. My situation was past frazzled—it was hopeless and hilarious. A laugh erupted shamelessly from my throat.

I smothered it with a cough as a well-meaning young woman leaned forward and whispered, “Do you need some help?”

‘Help? Yes! Where were you 25 minutes ago at the beginning of this zoo?’ I thought. I was beyond help now.

“No, thank you,” I whispered back, loudly. Then, gathering up my baby, my toddler, and all of the loose clothing, I quickly exited the chapel. The leftover children would have to fend for themselves.

My experience that Sunday initially made me want to cry. The situation was so hopeless, and then so hilarious, that I felt I could never live it down. However, once I was home and sitting at the dinner table with the family around me, I was able to re-live it and enjoy the humor of the day.

In his October 2008 Conference address, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin taught us to “Come what may, and love it.” He stated, “The next time you’re tempted to groan, you might try to laugh instead. It will extend your life and make the lives of all those around you more enjoyable.”

Laughing as a mother is sometimes difficult. After all, we carry the burden of making sure family members are on time, prepared, fed, rested, changed, and otherwise ready for situations and for life. When things go wrong, it can be easy to become frustrated or upset.
Here are a few ideas for dealing with stressful circumstances.

Wait. Hold your tongue, wait a few minutes, or leave the situation. When you can’t say anything, smile. It will give you a moment to think before you respond.

Spiritual Glasses. Put on your spiritual glasses and try to see the situation from a future reference point. Chances are, current disasters won’t matter as much in a few years. The difference between a tragedy and a comedy is usually just time, and if you’re going to laugh later, you might as well laugh now.

Count Your Blessings. Yes, the song is true. Try it. It works.

Laugh. Nothing calms children or families more during a stressful situation than to hear their mother laugh. If mother is okay with a disaster, then everyone can usually deal with it.
Life is full of ups and downs, and she who laughs…lasts.