Sunday, May 15, 2011

236/365 Update on the Utah Vestibule

It was a child-intensive mass this morning. Leo made it to the gospel. I took him to the back, as always, and eventually let him venture into the little room with the gates (that are still up). A girl who was one of my former girl scouts was back there, and I informed her that this room was really only for babies and toddlers under 3, and that since she already made her first communion, she should really be part of the congregation. Sometimes I can't believe what comes out of my mouth. She put the books away and wandered out without a word.

One of Leo's age set, one of the boys who was baptized the same Easter season, came back with his mother. And a little girl about 2. Then this clueless dad and his verbal child--at least 3--came back, but he entertained the little boy. I say he was clueless because every time he left, he didn't close the gate behind him (but when he came into the room, he always did--he knew how the gate worked, I figure he just couldn't be bothered?). Things reached that point where all toddlers decide it's ok to be loud, and so I left with Leo.

Another dad had a baby in a carrier, bouncing her in the back. Two other parents walked to the back to distract children far better behaved than Leo. I let him run in the very back, in the main vestibule, and then took him back over to the side room, which had emptied. And filled again. And we left again for communion and lasted out the announcements and most of the closing song back in our pew up front.

It seemed more like what it should be, frankly. I'm still not its biggest fan, since the gates mean that folks expect me to take my child back there instead of just to the back of church where I can still hear and participate (several folks have mentioned that THAT is where the babies belong...but it isn't any quieter there...and I can't hear a thing...I'm torn). But it felt more like a cry room and less like free babysitting and chat time. There was no chat. Maybe that made all the difference for me (that, and the lack of older children).

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