No...not the cry room
Myles and I started at a new-to-us parish today, St. Bede's. He is MOSTLY well-behaved, taking into account his age, when we attend a Mass that starts between 10 and 11 am, in a church that is somewhat familiar to him
So I took him to a brand new church at noon.
And I am still recovering.
We are greeted as soon as we walk into the church with printed signs saying, "Families with small children are more than welcome to make themselves comfortable in our something or other room upstairs." Not just one or two, but one next to each of the two doors from the vestibule into the sanctuary, one above a shelf of bulletins and handouts, and one on the door to the upstairs.
Great, I think. Even though my neighbor with her 3 children (4 after this coming Wednesday) said this was a great family parish, already, I barely have a chance to walk through the door and I am being steered towards segregated seating. The cry room. Good grief I hate those things. What better way to show your kids how to participate in worship by removing them from the worship setting? Why not just sit at home and watch EWTN? Better yet, TiVo it so you can take snack and potty breaks, and switch over to Bob the Builder in the middle. I could go on and on and on.
So Myles and I march right up to the front of the church, as is our custom any church we attend. I figure, if he can see the action, his attention might be grabbed. He can be steered to pay attention to some of it actually, or at least that has been my experience to date. We need to be sure to be in the sightline of Jesus, at least on the Crucifix, if not also the Stations, and Mary and Joseph statues don't hurt (Jesus' Mommy! and Daddy!--well, kinda Myles, but we have time to work that out). We also try to sit somewhat near other people, as Myles loves the Sign of Peace. If we are in a church where we know someone, it doesn't hurt to be in sight of them, either.
I genuflect. Myles does his genuflect. It is actually pretty cute. He started it last week, all on his own. Like the whole experience for him, I hope it grown organically, like language. One day it is babble and bam! real words. He just sort of tags along to Mass and as we continue to go routinely, he picks up the postures, the words, the rhythm. So he has begun to genuflect upon entering the pew. But instead of going down on one knee, he just sort of squats and comes back up. Okay, yes, it is his potty posture, but he thinks he is genuflecting. As long as he doesn't punctuate his genuflecting with an announcement of bodily functions (another new, unprompted habit), I can live with the reverent squatting for now.
Mass doesn't get too far along before Myles thinks he needs to climb the pews, literally climb them like playground equipment. Any attempts to inhibit said behavior is greeted with typical toddler protest. He is redirected to the priest who is praying the collect. Few moments later, back to climbing. Redirect to lector. Hear the story, Myles? Intent on Sirach for about a minute, back to climbing. The psalm, led by a lovely cantor, contained him for a bit, especially since I encourage him to sing at the appropriate times. He's okay throught the next reading, Alleluias, and during the gospel he had to be reminded of Jesus being there once or twice. Good, calming down.
Myles hates homilies. Even as a teeney tiny baby, he would become restless during the homily. I mean, can you blame him (joke). So, as per a not-unusual move on our part, we exit the homily to the back of the church as Myles is loudly protesting something I stopped him from doing that involved--you guessed it-climbing. And kicking, to boot, with his new sneakers.
We get to the vestibule, and being a gorgeous late summer day in a park-like setting, the doors are wide open, letting in fresh air and breezes. And letting out little blonde boys with too much energy and a compulsion to run.
He is out the door. There are no steps from the entry to the sidewalk outside, so nothing slows him, gives him pause top consider what he is about to do. Run out of the church, away from Mommy, the same Mommy he can't even let shower by herself. By now I am in his rearview mirror.
After him I go, dragging him back into the entry of the church. Protest after protest. The orange signs remind me that they prefer that I might be comfortable upstairs, out of sight and earshot.
As the door closes loudly behind me when Myles an I start up the stairs to the family room, he warns me that I need to be "Easy, Mommy, easy."
The room where St. Bede's send the bad families is the old choirloft that has been sound proofed, and wired so you can hear the priest, readers, organ, and cantor only. You can't even hear the congregational murmur at the responses. It is typical of the very few cryrooms I've been in. If you haven't experienced it, it is really hard for your brain to process it, like it knows data is missing and it tells your ears to work harder at getting all the expected stimuli. If ears could squint, that is what happens. And as one would expect in a cry room, you have parents/grandparents barely participating in Mass and children as old as 4 with pacifiers and coloring books, running amok. With the exception of two times before when I actually did sit in a cry room with Myles, all my cryroom stays have been due to extenuating circumstances, like when I was pregnant and sick and the cryroom at St. James was close to the bathroom, or when they have been used as overflow seating. Most of them, the seating is very similar to those in the sanctuary, or at the very least, rows of chairs to make it seem that you could be sitting in pews. This cryroom at St. Bede's also serves as an eighth grade classroom. It is full of middle-school sized desks that I don't fit into. There are a few chairs, here and there, and a TV with a VCR, and large, heavy folding tables you find in school cafeterias, that are folded and propped precariously against the wall. Kids are running, I can't sit down, and Myles is demanding paper because he found some crayons left out by some well-meaning person. No drawing Myles--we're at Mass, I hiss at him.
When it comes time to kneel for the Eucharistic prayers and consecration, he actually kneels with me for a few moments. No kneelers, but a dirty carpet. Oh well. Kneelers are for wimps anyway (sorry I was possessed by some crazy radtrad ascetic for a moment). I always think of my 70ish grandmother in times like these, though. If she can get down on her knees on the hard floor if she cannot find a seat in a crowded church that isn't kneeler-convenient, heck, so can I.
We go downstairs for communion and even though Myles is fidgety and telling me al kinds of reasons why I should let him down, I maintain my firm but loving grasp around his middle, keeping him perched on my hip. I always say a little prayer and thank God that another week has passed and he hasn't reached for the hosts or grabbed and spilled the chalice. Yup, that would be my son, covered in His Most Precious Blood, and yelling, "A Mess! A Mess! Mommy, Clean! TOWEL!"
So I am at a loss with what to do with him The toddler book I read to make me feel like a bad parent advises bringing along quiet entertainment. Attempts at that have made me see what a resourceful child this one is. Even silent toys become noisy as he acts something out with them, and if they can't be noisy he proves again that the path of any projectile is a parabola (and it doesn't take Mr. Finnefrock throwing chalk at him until he gets it right!). Books? Huh. Now that he is beginning to recognize letters, he gets so excited at picking out B's and S's and Ta-ta-ta-T's. One of the Catholic Mommy blogs that I have read recently to remind myself what a bad parent I am recommends basically the opposite approach to the toddler book--don't bring anything, keep them focused, tell them what is going on. Yeah, how is that really working out for you? I mean, really?
Obviously St. Bede recommends the third way, exile in the cry room. But I can't stand it for a bajillion reasons, like some already mentions. I mean, some priest actually get offended if you remain sanctuary with a child when they have a perfectly good cryroom for you to retreat to. I mean, I know what times are better for him, so I really need to try to stick to them, and only go at noon or late afternoon in extenuating circumstances. But short of that, I am out of ideas that might make this go better. I do not want to go back to the cryroom. That does nothing for him to grow up in this faith, IMnotsoHO.
Or, is Myles acting completely normal for his age? Is that possible?
So I took him to a brand new church at noon.
And I am still recovering.
We are greeted as soon as we walk into the church with printed signs saying, "Families with small children are more than welcome to make themselves comfortable in our something or other room upstairs." Not just one or two, but one next to each of the two doors from the vestibule into the sanctuary, one above a shelf of bulletins and handouts, and one on the door to the upstairs.
Great, I think. Even though my neighbor with her 3 children (4 after this coming Wednesday) said this was a great family parish, already, I barely have a chance to walk through the door and I am being steered towards segregated seating. The cry room. Good grief I hate those things. What better way to show your kids how to participate in worship by removing them from the worship setting? Why not just sit at home and watch EWTN? Better yet, TiVo it so you can take snack and potty breaks, and switch over to Bob the Builder in the middle. I could go on and on and on.
So Myles and I march right up to the front of the church, as is our custom any church we attend. I figure, if he can see the action, his attention might be grabbed. He can be steered to pay attention to some of it actually, or at least that has been my experience to date. We need to be sure to be in the sightline of Jesus, at least on the Crucifix, if not also the Stations, and Mary and Joseph statues don't hurt (Jesus' Mommy! and Daddy!--well, kinda Myles, but we have time to work that out). We also try to sit somewhat near other people, as Myles loves the Sign of Peace. If we are in a church where we know someone, it doesn't hurt to be in sight of them, either.
I genuflect. Myles does his genuflect. It is actually pretty cute. He started it last week, all on his own. Like the whole experience for him, I hope it grown organically, like language. One day it is babble and bam! real words. He just sort of tags along to Mass and as we continue to go routinely, he picks up the postures, the words, the rhythm. So he has begun to genuflect upon entering the pew. But instead of going down on one knee, he just sort of squats and comes back up. Okay, yes, it is his potty posture, but he thinks he is genuflecting. As long as he doesn't punctuate his genuflecting with an announcement of bodily functions (another new, unprompted habit), I can live with the reverent squatting for now.
Mass doesn't get too far along before Myles thinks he needs to climb the pews, literally climb them like playground equipment. Any attempts to inhibit said behavior is greeted with typical toddler protest. He is redirected to the priest who is praying the collect. Few moments later, back to climbing. Redirect to lector. Hear the story, Myles? Intent on Sirach for about a minute, back to climbing. The psalm, led by a lovely cantor, contained him for a bit, especially since I encourage him to sing at the appropriate times. He's okay throught the next reading, Alleluias, and during the gospel he had to be reminded of Jesus being there once or twice. Good, calming down.
Myles hates homilies. Even as a teeney tiny baby, he would become restless during the homily. I mean, can you blame him (joke). So, as per a not-unusual move on our part, we exit the homily to the back of the church as Myles is loudly protesting something I stopped him from doing that involved--you guessed it-climbing. And kicking, to boot, with his new sneakers.
We get to the vestibule, and being a gorgeous late summer day in a park-like setting, the doors are wide open, letting in fresh air and breezes. And letting out little blonde boys with too much energy and a compulsion to run.
He is out the door. There are no steps from the entry to the sidewalk outside, so nothing slows him, gives him pause top consider what he is about to do. Run out of the church, away from Mommy, the same Mommy he can't even let shower by herself. By now I am in his rearview mirror.
After him I go, dragging him back into the entry of the church. Protest after protest. The orange signs remind me that they prefer that I might be comfortable upstairs, out of sight and earshot.
As the door closes loudly behind me when Myles an I start up the stairs to the family room, he warns me that I need to be "Easy, Mommy, easy."
The room where St. Bede's send the bad families is the old choirloft that has been sound proofed, and wired so you can hear the priest, readers, organ, and cantor only. You can't even hear the congregational murmur at the responses. It is typical of the very few cryrooms I've been in. If you haven't experienced it, it is really hard for your brain to process it, like it knows data is missing and it tells your ears to work harder at getting all the expected stimuli. If ears could squint, that is what happens. And as one would expect in a cry room, you have parents/grandparents barely participating in Mass and children as old as 4 with pacifiers and coloring books, running amok. With the exception of two times before when I actually did sit in a cry room with Myles, all my cryroom stays have been due to extenuating circumstances, like when I was pregnant and sick and the cryroom at St. James was close to the bathroom, or when they have been used as overflow seating. Most of them, the seating is very similar to those in the sanctuary, or at the very least, rows of chairs to make it seem that you could be sitting in pews. This cryroom at St. Bede's also serves as an eighth grade classroom. It is full of middle-school sized desks that I don't fit into. There are a few chairs, here and there, and a TV with a VCR, and large, heavy folding tables you find in school cafeterias, that are folded and propped precariously against the wall. Kids are running, I can't sit down, and Myles is demanding paper because he found some crayons left out by some well-meaning person. No drawing Myles--we're at Mass, I hiss at him.
When it comes time to kneel for the Eucharistic prayers and consecration, he actually kneels with me for a few moments. No kneelers, but a dirty carpet. Oh well. Kneelers are for wimps anyway (sorry I was possessed by some crazy radtrad ascetic for a moment). I always think of my 70ish grandmother in times like these, though. If she can get down on her knees on the hard floor if she cannot find a seat in a crowded church that isn't kneeler-convenient, heck, so can I.
We go downstairs for communion and even though Myles is fidgety and telling me al kinds of reasons why I should let him down, I maintain my firm but loving grasp around his middle, keeping him perched on my hip. I always say a little prayer and thank God that another week has passed and he hasn't reached for the hosts or grabbed and spilled the chalice. Yup, that would be my son, covered in His Most Precious Blood, and yelling, "A Mess! A Mess! Mommy, Clean! TOWEL!"
So I am at a loss with what to do with him The toddler book I read to make me feel like a bad parent advises bringing along quiet entertainment. Attempts at that have made me see what a resourceful child this one is. Even silent toys become noisy as he acts something out with them, and if they can't be noisy he proves again that the path of any projectile is a parabola (and it doesn't take Mr. Finnefrock throwing chalk at him until he gets it right!). Books? Huh. Now that he is beginning to recognize letters, he gets so excited at picking out B's and S's and Ta-ta-ta-T's. One of the Catholic Mommy blogs that I have read recently to remind myself what a bad parent I am recommends basically the opposite approach to the toddler book--don't bring anything, keep them focused, tell them what is going on. Yeah, how is that really working out for you? I mean, really?
Obviously St. Bede recommends the third way, exile in the cry room. But I can't stand it for a bajillion reasons, like some already mentions. I mean, some priest actually get offended if you remain sanctuary with a child when they have a perfectly good cryroom for you to retreat to. I mean, I know what times are better for him, so I really need to try to stick to them, and only go at noon or late afternoon in extenuating circumstances. But short of that, I am out of ideas that might make this go better. I do not want to go back to the cryroom. That does nothing for him to grow up in this faith, IMnotsoHO.
Or, is Myles acting completely normal for his age? Is that possible?
Comments
I also hate cry rooms. Our parish had one when I started going there back in 1999. Father John did everything he could to discourage people from using it. He hates them, too. He would tell people, "If it bothers you that much to hear babies crying during Mass, then you're the one with the problem. Babies cry. That's what they do." Then in 2000 or 2001, he actually fulfilled his dream of having the cry room torn down so a bathroom could be put in its stead. :-) Now we don't have a cry room at all.
Since I've been going to the parish, virtually all of our priests have taken the time to announce at some point during Mass that parents shouldn't feel like they need to run out the door at the slightest outburst. Of course huge disruptive tantrums are another thing, but those limited outbursts that all kids do from time to time are nothing to worry about. Parents are encouraged to stay put when possible, which is nice.
I have to say that all the people in my parish are equally good about tolerating crying babies and fussy toddlers. Our DRE came to visit the parish years ago before he first applied for the job. His son was a between 1 and 2 then. He said he and his wife were both stunned by the fact that the baby's occasional outbursts, some of which were rather loud, did not spark even one turned head or disgusted stare or exasperated sigh from anyone in the church. Everybody just rolls with the punches very well.
The only time I get annoyed about kids disrupting Mass is when they're clearly old enough to know better and understand how to behave. That I have much less patience for. But loud toddlers and babies don't bother me at all.
Myles is adorable!!!
Oh - and i love Natasha's stuff - i will have to order!
rheadogg