On the art of Ward Hopping...

Ward hopping is an art. 

One that, until recently, I excelled at.  

Here are the rules of ward hopping.  

1. Never go to the same ward more than three weeks in a row. 

Week 1: They either don't notice you or just consider you a visitor.

Week 2: They notice you but just think you are on an extended vacation from school, work, or whatever you do (people rarely know). 

Week 3:  They notice that you've been around a lot and start asking questions/put you on a list of people they need to get church records for, get a calling for, etc.  

2.  Avoid eye contact with any and all people in any sort of leadership position in the ward.  Eye contact can lead to direct contact and conversations.  Avoid this at all costs.  Also avoid close friends and spouses of said leaders.  

3. Leave church quickly at the end of the meetings.  Avoid lingering.  Especially anywhere near the Bishop's office.  Never exit from the main doors.

4. When people do ask you what you're up to and where you're living, etc., be vague and act really unsure about what you are doing with your life or how long you will be living in the area.  (This is usually easy for me as I usually am unsure about what I'm doing with my life, how long I'll be in one place, etc.)

5. And, come to church late.  Slip into the overflow section in the back.  (This is probably the easiest part of all for me...I excel at being late.)  Oh, and sitting in the overflow is especially wonderful if they haven't yet opened up the section with those accordion door things (I don't know what they're called) and nobody else is in the section because this gives you extra time to get in that one last shot of hairspray to fix your bangs or to finish applying your makeup.  Also, if you grabbed some candy for "breakfast" on your way out the door this is an excellent time to eat your snacks before they open up the overflow. (Not that I have done those things or anything...)

So all year I was going along just fine...hopping between the Spanish branch, my home ward, my grandma's ward a time or two, a couple of trips to SLC, and broken up by large intervals of time when I was out of the country.  

Those long lapses of traveling time is really what threw people off of my path...in Idaho for a few weeks, out of the country for a month or two, back in town, and then gone again.  I could hardly keep track of myself, so I doubt anyone else could either.  

And, it was great.  Mostly because I could get away with the fact that I only have two or three spring/summer and two or three fall/winter church outfits that I like and that like me (aka: fit me).  And, by ward hopping you never have to worry about that.  All you need is three outfits.  Because then you rotate to the next ward and nobody knows that you just wore those same three outfits in your last ward, and then you're back again to the first ward and it's been long enough that nobody remembers what you wore (unless you wore something really weird).  

But, then I broke rule #1, which may well be the most important rule of all.  Because, if you disappear after three weeks then the whole cycle starts over again and you're safe, but if you chance it and go that fourth week you're just asking for trouble.  

And, I knew I was in the danger zone when I went to my home ward that fourth week in a row.  But for some reason I broke the rule anyway.  I guess I just wanted to feel the exhilaration of living life on the edge, of taking a chance.  

And, as I sat in Sunday School that 4th week in a row, one of the ward clerks or secretary guys or whatever you call them comes in right before the meeting started and said, "Can you meet with a member of the Bishopric right after church?"

My sister-in-law looks over at me and makes a face that seems to say "busted."

'Dang,' I thought.  And "okay, sure" I said.  

So I meet with the Bishopric member and he asks me if they can call me to be a "Primary Helper," which I understood to mean that I would just be an on call primary teacher for when someone needed a substitute or would just do crowd control during Sharing Time or whatever.  

So, after explaining to the Bishopric guy that I: 1)didn't actually live in the ward boundaries, 2)wasn't sure how long I'd be staying in the area, 3)knew nothing about children, and 4)go out of town a lot and am known to leave the country for months at a time, I agreed to the gig.  

Then, just this past week I get a call from the Primary President and she asks me if I can be a "Nursery Helper" for the rest of the year.  So, after explaining the above four point disclaimer to her, and thinking 'Oh h&!! what have I gotten myself into?,' I agreed to this more specific gig.

People who know me are probably thinking, "Why did you say 'oh h&!!' when you found out you'd be working in the nursery?...I thought you loved kids." 

And I do love kids.  But if there is one age of kids that's pretty much my least favorite age of kids to deal with it's 1.5 year-olds to 3 year-olds.  Because: 1)many of them are at that age when they only like their moms (and maybe their dads) and if you aren't their mom or dad and you even look at them or dare talk to them they will cry, 2) they have started to talk but since I don't speak "kid talk" I have no idea what they're saying so there's lots of miscommunication, and 3) it's the potty training age (need I say more?)

But, I agreed to the gig and decided I'd better buck up and deal with it.  Besides, 'I'm only a "Nursery Helper," how bad can it be?' I thought. 'And, it's only through December.  I can endure to the end (of the year).'

So, Saturday afternoon I call the lady whose helper I am to ask her if there's anything I need to do for or bring to nursery on Sunday.  

"Nope," she said, "just show up."

So, I showed up.  

Only problem was that she didn't.  

So, I walk into a room with eight of these...

waiting for me. 


And, I was totally unprepared.


I had:
1)no snacks
2)no key to the toy cupboard
3)no lesson plan
4)no clue what to do with eight screaming children for two hours


And then the music lady came in and said that they were short staffed or whatever and that she wouldn't be able to come and do music time.  Ahhhhhhhhh! 


I'm sure the parents of said screaming children could see the look of sheer terror/incompetence on my face.  They probably wondered if they dared leave  their children with such a person.  A couple of them didn't.  Thank heavens!


And, looking back, that was the moment when I should have run.  Right when I walked into that room and realized that the Nursery Leader was not there and saw all the chaos...I should have pretended that I had turned into the wrong room and hightailed it out of there.  I think I could have gotten away with it.  It was my first week after all.   


Anyway, to make a long story short, we found the key to the toys, one of the moms ran home for some snacks, and two of the moms stayed with me and helped me with the "lesson" and crowd control.  


And, since there were zero major injuries (one kid did punch another kid in the face) and zero escapes, I'm counting the day as a success even though everything else was pretty much a disaster.  


Oh, and I learned that two year-olds don't respond well when you don't know their first names and you just call them "Sister Peterson."  


"Sister Peterson, are you done eating your Fruit Loops?" 


"Sister Peterson, fold your arms."  


"Time to pick up the toys Sister Peterson."


You don't get much of a response. 


And, when you write "Sister Peterson" on her picture of Jesus that she's coloring for her dad, she'll get mad and will scribble it out.  


Busted.  


I guess I'll have to learn their names.  I'd better ask their parents though.  I can't understand a word of what those kids say.  


Well, I guess it serves me right.  I'm the one who wanted that dang Get Out of Jail Free card.  This wasn't what I had in mind though. 


Oh, and just in case there are blog leeches from my ward who have children in the nursery in my ward (and I'm pretty sure there are), I don't think all the children in that nursery are hellions.  Actually a few of them are extremely adorable, and sweet, and fun, and are not snot nosed bawl babies.  I won't name any names though.  I'll just let you think it's your kid I'm talking about when I say that a few of them were absolutely adorable.  It's more fun that way.  




Next week is Stake Conference.  


Hallelujah!  Praise be.  


Boy am I glad I'm not the Octomom.  Poor, stupid, lady.