My Forgotten Carols

It was a freezing and blustery night.

Power lines were been blown down, causing major power outages across the state of Utah, and 100 year old trees uprooted from the sheer force of the winds bombarding the Wasatch front.  Snow was predicted, but so far all I had noticed was the size of my goosebumps as I loaded kids in and out of the car.  The wind also too control of  my hair, swirling around me, like a witch producing a potion.

I was excited to take my family to “The Forgotten Carols”, a play written by Michael McLean.  It was the 20th anniversary, and I purchased tickets about a month and a half previous.  Jon, and the four older girls all piled into the Suburban and made the trip to Utah Valley University.  It took a total of about 10 minutes.  Luckily, we found a parking lot close by the building because we practically ran inside in order to get out of the ice biting winds.  On the way in, I actually saw Whitney and Brighton holding hands and skipping.  I should have kept my mouth shut, but I just couldn’t help myself.

“WOW! WHO IS THAT HOLDING HANDS AND SKIPPING?! ARE THOSE MY DAUGHTERS?”

That was all it took for them to look at each other as Whitney yelled back, “MOM, you always have to ruin it!” They pushed each other away and stomped off in different directions, pretending the fleeting bond never happened.  It’s okay, it made me feel good to get out some of my frustration from listening to the fights for years.  The second we entered the building, it started.

“MOM, what IS this?”

“It’s a concert, I think.  He sings and plays the piano.”

“How LONG is it?”

” I don’t know, like an hour?”

“So WHY did we have to come?”

“You didn’t HAVE to come, I brought you because you are lucky.”

“Why didn’t Halle and Jordan have to come?”

“Because they are too young…” and it continued until we made it to the front of the will call line.  The lady was in a hurry, and ready to take our tickets.

“What’s your name please?”

“Moss”

“Hmmm, we don’t have any tickets for a Moss.  Would it be under anything else?”

“No, I am Janae.  I ordered them.”

“Ok, we will check”

Will you go stand over there while we locate them?  10 minutes later, they handed over our tickets. “Here they are.”  We loaded up on goodies to fill our empty stomachs.  Hot dogs, churros, and a smoothie.  It all looked great in theory, I was starving.  We hefted  all our four food groups into the indoor concert seating as we try to find our seats.

“Excuse me, mam..” Jon says in his sweet, respectful voice that he uses for all old ladies.  “Where are these seats?”She pointed, UP.  So we start walking, stair stepping up to the top of the bleachers.  Not kind of the top, the actual top and those annoying voices started again.

“Sheesh Janae, did you get the worst seats in the place?” Jon joked as he ascends the stairs, quickly running out of breath.  The stage below grew smaller and smaller as we broke the sound barrier that hovered above us previously.  I figured light traveled faster than sound, so at least the Christmas lights on the tree would look pretty, even if the noises from the actors mouths were delayed.

“Jon, I wanted to still be able to buy you a Christmas present and if I would have bought the 30 dollar tickets for all of us, that would have been it!”  He just smiled that smile that meant, I’m not going to stop teasing you about this for a while.  Then the kids started.

“Mom, I can’t see, and the bleachers are swaying when we move! I am getting sick!” and they were.

We were so stinkin’ high, they were actually moving as we leaned to pass the popcorn and snacks back and forth to each other.  Finally the lights dimmed and we started to settle in for the show.  Every crinkle of paper and bump of the chairs in front of us made me cringe.  I hate distracting people during spiritual/holiday cheer sorts of stuff and we were the worst offense.  I looked down the row with each disturbance and tried to give my noisy children the most mean crusty crusts I could muster.  I don’t think Jon got the hint, because he kept passing me more food.  I think he thought that irritated face meant I was hungry.

And then, it was quiet.  Just for a moment, until Brighton decided she needed to go to the bathroom.  Now, we were on the 20 millionth row remember, so she and Jon basically had to repel to the bottom.  It was quiet for a minute when they were done stomping down the wooden staircase, and then they brought back dip n dots.  It’s no wonder I struggle to eat healthy around this man. I gave him a disgusted look, and turned to watch the show.  Next thing I know, he passed down his left overs.  What do I do?  I take a bite.  It was about this time that my stomach was majorly protesting.  It hurt.  The pressure was almost too much to handle.  I have never been one to hold down too much nasty foods at once without getting sick.  The song being sung was sweet, spiritual and reflective.  All I could do was reflect on all that I shouldn’t have eaten, because I couldn’t sit up straight.

AND THEN I FARTED.

YES, you read that right.  I actually was so sick, that flippin’ gas pushed it’s way right out of wherever it was being held ransom and made it’s appearance to the world from the back row.  The place it should have stayed.  The place my farts always stay because I have complete control, because farting is gross.  I pride myself in restricted farts.  My kids aren’t allowed to fart without having to sit on the stairs, and here I FART in the middle of the most quiet part of the most spiritual song I’ve ever heard in my life about a mother that wasn’t able to have her own baby, but that she would take care of others babies.

And. I. fart.

It was too much for me to handle.  Really.  Have you ever had to laugh SO hard that it rocks your very soul and it sends belly racking motions like tidal waves through your entire being?  And it ALWAYS happens when you are supposed to be reverent, like in church…but that is when the funniest things happen?  Ya, that’s how it was and I lost complete control of myself.  It was an out of body experience as I glanced down and saw the couple in front of me cover their faces, laugh, and lean forward.  The girl sitting next to them actually turned around and stared me down, as if she were disgusted (whatever) hasn’t she ever farted?  People like that always claim they don’t.

Bologna.

Everyone farts.  We were made to fart.  Just not in a situation where your butt is eye level with the person sitting in front of you.  That is out of boundaries.  That is most definitely a penalty.  That is prerequisite for expulsion from the game.  I turned to Kinley and put my hand on my face and started to jiggle laugh.  Laugh so hard the benches started a swayin’  Whitney was on my left, and she heard it.  She heard the whole thing.  Her eyes were huge and she was horrified.  How would you feel as a 13 year old girl if your mom just farted in the boys face in front of you?

Ya, me too.

My eyes were huge, tears were running down my face and I started to pee.  It was just too much.  After 5 babies, I am a complete wreck when I jump on the trampoline or, or, or…laugh too hard.  Don’t worry yourselves, it didn’t ALL come out, but enough to make me wish I had a depends on….like most of it.

Then I truly lost it.  I am not kidding, there WASN’T A NOISE in the whole event center and I was OUT OF CONTROL.  I made kind of a guttural sound as I tried helplessly to hold in my laughter.  I was being tortured.  Tortured by my own lack of self control and resistance to the OH so funny.  Kinley and Whitney were laughing by me and my high heeled boot slid across the metal bump textured floor, causing even more noise.  Kinley started fake coughing in a pathetic attempt to cover my misconduct.

Luckily it was almost intermission.  As the lights flipped on, I jumped up and grabbed Ella’s hand and drug her to the bathroom.  The line was at least 50 deep and all we could do was wait.  I leaned over to let Ella in on my little secret “Ella, Mommy is having some issues and I might be in the bathroom for a while.  Just wait by the sinks for me.  Don’t go out in the busy hall without me.” So looked up with her all knowing eyes and a crooked smile curious smile.

FINALLY it was my turn. My turn to what?  I was confused myself.  I have only used a public restroom for these sorts of things …MAYBE once or twice.  That special occasion is usually saved for home.  Home is where YOUR toilet is right?!  It’s a good thing I made it because I barely did.  All that food made me completely sick and poor Ella just stood there as people came in and out with their mommies in a timely manner.  I could hear the other moms from my stall.

“Honey, do you need help with the soap dispenser?”

“You can have my stall cutie, I am done.”

“Are you lost?”

Poor Ella fought off the wolves and just looked at me with big eyes when I finally emerged from my stall of death.  She helped me with the soap dispenser, because I couldn’t figure it out.  And then, we made it all the way back to our seats.  I had all the kids scoot down so I could sit by Jon and lean my head on his shoulder.

I retold my truth, and he sat horrified with his big eyes on me – as I looked forward.  He was cracking up, half amused and half embarrassed.  He does that a lot for whatever reason.  Last week he almost busted a gut when I fell out of the bed head first.  *yes this is true* He always tells me that “This is why I love you. You make me laugh.”  So really he is saying that he is deeply in love with me, has 7 children with me, and has devoted his whole self to me because I am a hopeless idiot.

Well, whatever keeps the fire burning, and it’s a good thing we were sitting in that back row.

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