Sunday, Sunday

For what seems like only about the tenth time since his birth, we attempted to take Davey to church this morning.

When he was first born, we'd go to church, but Davey was on such a weird feeding schedule that I would have to leave part way through the sermon and go feed him. In the car because our church hadn't finished building their nursery facilities that would hopefully have a spot for nursing moms who don't like to nurse in public to 'take care of business'.

Then he got a bit older, but church fell in the middle of his naptime. And there was no where to put a sleeping baby, so there wasn't much point in me going to church since he'd cry through the whole service.

Finally around his first birthday, Davey got so he could handle church, and even quite liked beingn in the nursery. But around that time I had really bad morning sickness so I didn't feel like going.

And then he got beat up in nursery. Another little boy, around his age, pushed him. Now I can't even walk towards the nursery without him crying. Hysterically.

If only there was a church where ALL we did was worship, he'd be great. Me too since that's my favorite part. If we could just dance and sing for an hour. Mnnnn.