Back in January, Mr. KK and I started the process to have Max baptized. You can read about our guilt-ridden super fun meeting with the church here.
I'll admit, after that ridiculous meeting with the deacon, I was on the fence about moving forward with the baptism. But Mr. KK felt pretty strongly that we needed to introduce Max into the church so that he could make his own decisions later in life. (I hate when Mr. KK is so rational).
So, when the big day arrived – in true KK fashion – it was a comedy of errors.
Let me start by saying that the church was VERY lucky to have such a handsome new member. Max could not have looked any more adorbs.
First off, let's talk about the coordination of feeding/napping/diapering that had to go into this day so that Max could be not hungry/quiet/napping during mass. Did I mention that we forgot that baptism day fell on Daylight Savings Time Day (read: Universal Parental Nightmare Day). So we were already starting the day with a whacked out wake-up schedule.
We arrived to church with 15 minutes to spare. Max – whom we thought would be deep into a nap at this point – was WIDE awake. Granted, he was totally quiet, but awake.
And then I smelled it.
Me: (sniffing) "Um, I think Max pooped."
Mr. KK: "Seriously?"
Me: "Smells pretty serious."
So there we go, hauling Max in his car seat and the diaper bag out of the pew, across the front of the altar and down the back stairs. We head to the room where we had our baptism class just a few months earlier.
Not only has Max pooped, it's Poopapalooza. God must have been on our side because the goopy green mess miraculously stayed in his diaper. How Max kept his little white outfit clean is a miracle on the same plane as water being turned into wine.
As I threw his very large and very smelly diaper into the small trash can I thought it was appropriate that Max stunk up the room where the deacon questioned his eligibility for baptism.
Max 1, church 0.
Soon after mass started I heard a small sound, followed by a foul smell.
Eyes wide, I whispered to Mr. KK: "I think Max just pooped again."
Mr. KK: "You have GOT to be kidding me? What's going on with him?"
Me: "Maybe he's nervous for his big day."
Car seat and diaper bag in hand, we walk past the altar once again (though this time Mass was in progress) and back down the stairs. This diaper was equally as green and gross. What they hell did this kid eat?
Back to mass (across the front of the altar again).
One thing I may have failed to mention was that there was a visiting priest from Nigeria doing the mass.
At the end of mass, our conversation went something like this:
Priest: "mumble, mumble mumble…I had no idea I was doing a baptism today."
Me: (clear as day) "Neither did we."
And so it went. Unfortunately, he was VERY difficult to understand and he kept asking us questions that no one was catching, then would say something like, "How come no one wants to answer me today?"
Which didn't make for an awkward situation AT ALL.
Max was awake for the baptism and ready to get the hell out of dodge. Instead, I held him tight, adjusting his socks and outfit that kept riding up on his legs. All the while he was probably thinking, "When can this polyester come off??"
When we finally arrived at the restaurant, you can imagine the fatigue, crankiness and hunger.
And Max was at his wits end, too.
Two poopy diapers, daylight savings time, one Nigerian priest, a 20-minute video shown during mass, and two sauvignon blancs for Mommy later, all was good.