I volunteered to teach Sunday School. I’ll let that sink in.
If you know me, you are thinking, “Wait. Missy volunteered to teach Sunday School? I misread this, clearly.”
There are a lot of reasons my sudden altruism seems random, not the least of which is that I don’t like kids. My kids, of course, are cute and smart and perfectly wonderful [this is where a sarcasm button would come in handy – I am not that mom]. I’m sure your kids are lovely, too.
All the other kids, though? I don’t like them.
Perhaps I shouldn’t say that I don’t like kids. Perhaps I should say that I don’t understand them. Kids frighten the snot out of me. I spend a lot of time confused…
Why won’t she stop talking about her new magic wand that’s not really magic but is plastic and goldy and goes with the scratchy dress that turns her into a princess with all the princess shoes?
Why would he put a dirty shoe in his mouth? (This is my kid, by the way.)
Why did she just wander away from circle time to do the splits with her dress lifted over her head?
When adults do these things, we chalk it up to alcohol or a certain specialness that will be addressed in therapy. Or a group home. When kids act like tiny weirdos we’re supposed to handle it wisely, gently, with love. Ugh.
It takes every ounce of self control I have not to get right down on the kid’s level and say something very mature, like, “Only a stupid poo-poo head eats crayons. Gah. Crayons don’t even taste good. You are so random.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes at them. I fight the urge to yell at them. I fight the urge to say whatever when they launch into an unintelligible story about Storm Troopers.
Are you calling CPS yet? Please don’t. At the risk of bragging, I think I am a very good mother. My son says I’m the bestest, sweetest mommy there ever was. You see, I don’t actually say or do any of the ridiculous things I mentioned above. I just want to say and do those things. Big difference. It’s the difference between freedom and 20-to-life.
Shockingly, I think I’m a decent Sunday School teacher, too. My job is to count the kids and make sure that all ten of them arrive and depart each activity. We also color. It’s not too bad. I can handle this.
So why in the name of all that is holy did I sign on for this activity? Why did I give up my Sunday mornings to hang out with a room full of small, random people?
It’s hard to say for sure. You know when people say they felt called to do something? I kind of did. Kuh-razy. I kept getting these emails from our church saying they desperately needed Sunday School teachers. I ignored these emails.
For three years.
About two weeks ago I opened and actually read the email. Call it God. Call it guilt. Call it a bizarre God-guilt combo. Call it what you want. The result is that I emailed back and said, sure, I’ll help.
I’ve only been at my new gig for two weeks, and a couple times I have had that chest-constricting, oh crap thought. It’s a one year commitment. ONE YEAR. Heaven help me. Really, heaven, help me. But so far my son thinks having me there is the greatest thing since Dinosaur Train. And who knows? Maybe I’ll learn something. Something about me, or God, or my son, or why kids are so freaking random and scary.
I wonder, have you ever volunteered to do something out of your comfort zone? Did it feel like an out of body experience? What was the end result?
I also wonder, are you scared of kids, too?
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This post is part of this week’s Word Up, Yo blog hop, a nerdilicious game brought to you by these funny ladies: A Belle, A Bean and a Chicago Dog; Mommy of a Monster (I Mean Toddler) & Infant Twins; and Taming Insanity.
As a word-dork, I have been dying to participate, but for one random reason or another, I never remember to play along. I’m excited to link up this week!
Lapsed homemaker. Looking to hire a full-time housekeeper who will work for the sheer joy of a job well done and free coffee. Interested parties, DM please. 
i am terrified of other people’s children. i don’t know how to talk to them. i don’t know how to interact with them. i am petrified of having birthday parties for my children for this very reason… i don’t know what the hell i’m supposed to say to all these kids to make them have a good time. my kids? i’m great with my kids. they’re the bestest kindest sweetest kids EVER (yeah, i’ve got somma them too) and interacting with them is completely natural. i wish i could have at least 2 more. but teaching doesn’t come naturally to me. i am a stay at home mom, and i love every minute of it… but my first attempt at teaching my son to count to ten taught ME that i am a horrific teacher. i won’t home school my children simply because i am not a good teacher… oddly enough, i’m the same way with dogs. i love MY dog more than ice cream, but other people’s dogs are just badly behaved smelly beasts.
and, yes… every time i step outside my home i am outside my comfort zone. fortunately, i’ve been through enough humiliation and awkward moments in my life, that i know it will be over soon enough.
@Nobody, I’m a terrible teacher, too. It’s laughable, really. When we need to explain something to my son, my husband does the ‘splainin’ – I talk in circles and confuse everyone!
Did someone take over your body when you volunteered for a year of active duty?!? I swear that always happens to me too. I mean no, but my mouth says, “sure, no problem”. In general, I’d like all kids I didn’t grow myself to stay away unless they are wearing a HEPA filter and have just used hand sanitizer.
I know!! Inside my head I hear the screaming, “SAY NO.” But the word “Yes” comes flying out of my mouth.
I am with you on the dirty kids. I know my own are petri dishes, too, but they’re my petri dishes.
Loved this post. Hilarious. To answer your questions, ANY TIME I volunteer, I feel out of my comfort zone. I don’t volunteer often (if ever), and I mean to rectify that in the future. We’ll see how that goes. And yes, kids confuse me. Especially teenagers. I’m in a starbucks surrounded by them as I type this. It’s like Whore Central.
Props on random usage.
ps – thanks for visiting my site!
I hate that my kids have to be teenagers one day. I dread the awkwardness, the pimples, the long unexplained showers… Ack. Then again, I can handle toddlers and preschoolers for ever. I’m getting too old for this craziness!
This made me laugh! I can so relate! I know what you mean about seeing a child doing a random split leap and wondering what in the heck is up with them. (I’m sure I was the child doing the split leap back in the day). I occasionally teach my 5 y/o son’s Sunday school class. I haven’t fully committed to more than substituting, so you are better than me! On another note, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I loved your definition for “dises” for “Captcha Balderdash”. It made me laugh! It was perfect!
So glad you like the definitions!
(And no, I’m not better. I’m dumber – and dumberer – because I meant to volunteer as a sub and here I am, full time. How did that happen?!)
Oh!! I also loved “platests”!! Haaaahahaha!! That cracked me up, too. I love this silly game because I love reading people’s wacky definitions. You wacky! I like wacky. 🙂
Love me some Word Up Yo!
And I love me some Missy, too, as long as you don’t start putting your shoe in your mouth or lifting your dress over you head.
Can you even imagine? If I get to go to Blissdom, you’ll have to keep an eye on me and make sure I don’t break into song and twirl my dress over my head.
Oh, we will have so much fun together. Mark my words.
I hate other people’s kids with a passion. Except of course, my own and any others that act like, you know, 30 something year olds with logic and brains and the ability to go to the bathroom without an escort. Those kids are cool in my book.
And even though kids annoy me, I’m the one who volunteers for every dang thing at school. But the teachers know which kids to latch on to me because I’m not all, “Oh sweetie, don’t do that.” I’m, “Hey, get your ass back over here and don’t tell your teacher I said ass. Cause I will so deny it and I’ll tell the teacher you were the one who said ass.”
That’s right, I get the bad kids.
But the thing is, I don’t know any bad kids. You give a kid a chance to be good and you tell him for real what your expectations are and how you’ll respect them if they’ll respect you and you end up getting to know some pretty amazing kids.
And so now that I wrote a post on your post, I will bid you adieu.
@joann mannix, Ha. You are now my role model for dealing with kids. A lot of them need a little more “get your ass back here” and a little less “oh sweetie.”
As for going to the bathroom without an escort, I can’t wait until mine can do that! My oldest can at home, but not when we’re out. I’m really tired of visiting every public restroom in town…
I love what you say about bad kids. I think it’s so true. Every child just needs someone to be a good example and to love them. It’s heartbreaking that every kid doesn’t have that.
Feel free to post on my posts any time. 🙂
Yes yes yes! Children frighten the beejezus out of me…I only know how to handle a child the same age as mine (seven months) so that leaves out a lot of em. For the rest I’m all “uhh…nice to meet you? have you ready any good books lately?”…crickets…
@Yuliya, I can say that as my kids get older, I feel like I am able to file away my experiences with them and be a little less terrified of kids in the age groups I have lived through. Only a little less terrified, though!
I would answer you but I’m busy doing the splits with my dress over my head.
But then, I’m old enough to drink alcohol so it’s ok.
@KLZ, Ha! Could you vlog that, please?
And how can I even write anything after KLZ’s comment which just cracked me up big time!!
I love this post and I’m so glad to meet ya!
I love you.
I hate kids too == of course not my own. But what I love more is confessing that I hate kids in front of other mothers, who get that shocked look on their face, and I think, “REALLY? Like YOU don’t??”
So thank you. I needed a laugh — it’s (un)Happy Hour.
@Natalie, Thanks so much! Glad to know you, too!
@Alyson: Common Sense, Dancing, So glad this made you smile. And don’t you just love torturing the type-A, life-is-always-so-sunny moms? 😉 Your comment made me laugh, so thank you!