Church Loser of the Week

Obviously, I’m no marriage expert. In fact, I’m not really an expert in anything, even the areas that I could potentially be an expert in. Like education. Or child development. Or sarcasm. Or convincing young children to eat a vegetable. 

But, back to marriage. I think it’s important to praise your spouse when praise is deserved. 

And with Tighe, it’s often deserved. Not just as a husband, but as a father. And I realized I haven’t dedicated a post to him since his Lotion Robot days, circa 2015.

But he is a pretty phenomenal father. While I’m barely holding it together in between carpools, hectic mealtimes, ever-accumulating laundry, and perpetual kitchen cleanup, Tighe’s intentional.

As in, he thinks about things before he says them. He contemplates disciplinary actions. He weighs the pros and cons of reward systems and rules. Before signing them into Greenhalgh Law. That, sir, is a mouthful.

I, on the other hand, simply react. For me, it’s a matter of short-term survival. I’m living my life in 10 to 15 minute increments, ever-reaching for the next chance to be myself. To eat a meal uninterrupted by spilled milk or quarreling siblings. Yearning for 5 more minutes to listen to my podcast. Or text back a friend. Or return an email. Or even just to sneak a Reese’s peanut butter cup without anyone whining that they want one too. 

But for Tighe, he’s playing the long game. He’s mindful of the fact that we’re in the process of raising (hopefully) good humans—good adults who are kind, considerate, generous, compassionate, tenacious, and hard-working. 

Which brings me to my next point: church attendance. Or church behavior. Or whatever you want to call it. 

We’ve moved beyond the point where our mere presence is sufficient. When we were toddlers, all in diapers and nap-dependent, that was enough. Show up, cause a scene, check it off our Sunday to-do list.

But now. Now that three out of four are school-aged and attend all-school mass on a weekly basis, where they’re expected to sit still, stay quiet, and exhibit generally good behavior, it’s time to take it to the next level. 

The level where behavior and attentiveness matter. 

Back to our parenting styles. While sitting quietly in a pew, surrounded by my offspring, I’m inclined to pinch a squirmy nine year-old. Or shush—loudly, of course—a whispering six year-old. Because I react. And then I question, quietly to myself, why we’re even there. 

To kill 60+ minutes? I know that’s not the reason. Because with four kids playing spring sports, all with friends who like to host an occasional birthday party, our weekends are already pretty jam-packed.

To entertain people around us? Well, that can’t be the reason either. We had a woman recently turn around during the consecration, glare at all the families with young children seated in the rows behind her, and mouth, quite visibly, the words, “what the hell?” I admit that sometimes I’m overly sensitive to the perceived judgments of others, but this woman’s condemnation could not be mistaken. 

So why are we there, week after week, making enemies? 

But Tighe has it all figured out. He’s planned ahead, anticipated the misbehaviors, the squirminess, the fidgets, the whispers, the eyerolls. And now that our kids have a little bit more self-control and self-awareness, they eat up his plan every week. 

It starts in the car on the way home. Everyone has to deliver the “message,” or the lesson, they learned during that church service—in reverse age order, from youngest to oldest. Lou’s are always silly and nonsensical, usually something to do with poop or farts.

After a good laugh at Lou, Tess reports some three or four-word message that she gleaned from the very colorful kids’ message guide. And Nate and Sam repeat something verbatim they heard the priest say during the homily, ranging in meatiness from the most trivial anecdote from the priest’s biography to an absolutely esoteric and mystical snippet that theologians still can’t agree upon. 

Then come the behavior rankings, first through fourth place, awarded to each kid. The winners always rotate between Nate, Sam, and Tess. Lou doesn’t stand a chance. Because he’s busy scaling the white pillars at the end of the pew. Or crawling on the floor. Or hurling toys down the aisle. He takes a bathroom break to the farthest bathroom, the one in the basement. It takes longer to get there than it takes to actually use the bathroom. And of course, Sam supervises those expeditions. 

When the weather’s nice, Lou takes a trip outside to the courtyard. There are always a few wandering kids and parents out there, taking a break from the stuffy onslaught of religion. 

Regardless, Lou always earns 4th place. It’s practically his default setting. Except the one time he fell asleep in my lap, but that almost didn’t seem fair. 

After everyone’s buckled in their seatbelts and we’re pulling away from the curb, Nate, Sam, and Tess anxiously await their weekly rankings. The winner gets to pick a movie or show to watch that night. Or a dessert to have after dinner. 

The Loser, on the other hand—and we don’t really count Lou since he’s always in last place—has to either return to church at a later time or watch a church service online.

What our kids don’t realize is that (a) there is no later service at our church, and (b) if there was one, it’d actually be inconvenient for Tighe and I to drive them there, so we’d probably never follow through. Maybe. But probably not.

There is, however, a church about ten minutes away that offers a Sunday evening mass, and I bet it would only take one time to drag that week’s Church Loser to said mass to improve all-around behavior significantly. So we’ll keep that in our back pocket—maybe for when Lou’s a little less volatile. 

But the option to watch something online is usually our go-to. And actually, thanks to covid #yay4globalpandemics, there are tons of kid-friendly options out there. Like, with animated gospel readings and dynamic, captivating homilists. A far cry from the actual mass at our church.

[If we were chatting in person and my daily cup of coffee hadn’t worn off yet, this is where I’d drone on about the failure of most churches, though not all, to stay relevant to young families. It’s best not to get me started on my own personal, “the church is wrong,” self-righteous tangent. Tighe’s heard it once or twice. Times a million.]

Anyway, Church Loser of the Week, has to adequately complete Tighe’s off-the-cuff oral exam to make sure they learned something besides “don’t brawl with your brother at church.” It works pretty well. 

And you know how a lot of parenting experts say, “don’t negotiate with your kids?” Yeah, we don’t follow that advice. We negotiate.

So, if Church Loser approaches us and says something like, “instead of watching online church, can I rake leaves?” Or fold laundry. Or clean the basement. Or repaint the crown molding. Or feed the hogs. Or get a job. We would surely be open to those terms. 

I’m not saying Tighe and I are winning at parenting. In fact, we’re definitely losing on many fronts. Like, Sam is literally playing with matches as I type this sentence. And Nate’s drawing vulgar cartoons instead of finishing his homework. And neither one is gathering his rugby equipment like I asked.

But we feel like winners after church—and admittedly that could simply be the sugar high from our weekly Sunday morning cinnamon rolls. And that euphoria lasts until we walk through the kitchen door of our house and see all the breakfast dishes that we abandoned in an effort to get to church “on time.” Which is any time before communion.

Way to go, Tighe. You’re a good dad.