Sunday, May 25, 2008

A Meal the Missionaries Will Never Forget

I don't know if I've ever mentioned in my blog before, so now is as good a time as any. I am a devoutly faithful member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Let me just clarify what that means for those of you who only get your news about the Mormons from strange websites, twisted news stories, or those guys who walk around Salt Lake City carrying signs announcing that we're all going to be struck by lightning. We have only one husband and one wife in each marriage. Honestly, I don't think the King could ever handle being a polygamist given that he can barely handle the wife he's already got. The poor guy would more than likely tip over dead if there was ever another one of me. And I would be more than unhappy should the King ever decide it's a good idea to take on another wife. Now, if he wanted to take on a wife that is only in charge of doing dishes and one that's in charge of scooping dog poop and maybe one more for the laundry, that would be fine. I'm pretty sure they call that slavery, though, and it was outlawed long ago. I, however, will be the one and only bedroom wife.

We don't play co-ed naked basketball in the temples. Well, maybe just on Wednesdays. Just kidding!!! Seriously, there is no nudity in the temple, or basketball for that matter. On the contrary, it's a beautiful and sacred place. As members of our faith, we hold the temple dear to our hearts and know that the things that happen there are so sacred that we never discuss them outside the temple.

We don't eat only green jell-o with carrots in it. YUCK!!! Who came up with that idea anyway? Gag! I do enjoy red jell-o with little mandarin oranges in it, but I can never seem to make the oranges suspend right. I'm a jell-o failure. I'm so ashamed.

We do believe in birth control. (I apparently just have yet to learn how to use it). While some of us do have large families, it's because it's a choice we've made, not because we were told we absolutely had to.

Most importantly, we believe that Jesus Christ is the literal son of God, and that He came to Earth to act as a Savior for us so that we can all return to our Father in Heaven. We believe that he visited His people in the Americas. We believe that there is a prophet of God on the earth today. We believe in the power of the Priesthood, the blessings of paying a full tithe, and that the family is the cornerstone of our society.

Oh, and we also have missionaries. I know you've seen them. Some of you have probably had your dogs chase them away or threatened them with your hunting rifles or, GASP!!!, actually invited them into your homes. You know they're our missionaries because they come in pairs. The women are usually wearing long skirts that are attractive, but modest. They also have name tags that show their names. The male missionaries are always in a suit and tie, even when they ride their bikes. (Though I have heard that the ones serving in the Polynesian islands wear those cool skirts that men of those cultures wear). The men also have name tags on. The women's tags say "Sister So-and-so" and the men's say "Elder So-and-so". Wanna' know a little secret? Their real first names aren't Sister or Elder. We just call them that out of respect.

Anyway, as a member of our Church, we are asked to have the missionaries in our homes now and then for a meal. These guys don't have much money and are serving for a full two years (men) or 18 months (women) using money out of their own pockets. We really enjoy having them over because they usually set a great example for my children of what they can be when they grow up. So, we try and feed them about once a month.

For some reason, I just don't know that the meal experience at our house is anything like the experiences these missionaries get anywhere else. We were on the calendar to feed them this past Friday. Being the Domestic Goddess that I am, I ordered pizza for them. Hey! Who doesn't like pizza?!?!? The only problem was that I forgot to return their confirmation call to let them know I was expecting them. So, an hour after they should have been here, I called them. They didn't think they were invited, but got here faster than a speeding bullet as soon as I said "I'm sitting here with four pizzas and no one to eat them". Apparently, they like pizza.

As soon as they pulled up, the Beast went flying out of the house and bombarded them with his usual long list of questions. "Wanna' play in my room?" "Are you my best friend?" "Can I sit by you?" "Wanna' share my plate?" "Wanna' watch me poop?" That last one should have triggered my mommy radar that this wasn't going to go well.

They finally made it through the door with The Beast all but attached to their legs, and found that Pretty was naked (well, wearing a diaper) and using her pizza as an art form. Who knew pizza could fly so far across the table?!

Number One fought for a seat by a missionary, too. I didn't think this was such a bad thing until he started telling poop and farting jokes after the blessing on the food. Honestly, I should keep a shovel nearby at all times so that I'm always ready to dig a hole and crawl in at a moment's notice. Luckily for me, Snort was being good. He sat quietly by eating his glasses. Yep, money well spent on those glasses, eh?

Then it happened. The Beast announced that he needed to use the bathroom. "Number One, you wanna' come pee with me?" "No, Beast! You know Mommy says it's not okay, and we can only do that when she's sleeping." "Oh yeah. Okay, I go poop alone now. Hey, missionary, you wanna' come watch me poop?" Surprisingly, they both shook their heads no. So, off he went on his own.

After stripping off his clothes down to complete nakedness, and giving us a full play by play, he decided it would be best if he brushed his teeth before pooping. Okay, I can handle that. He must have been very concerned about his oral hygiene because he was "brushing" for nearly ten minutes. Finally, we heard the toilet lid banging and the Beast was singing the "Poop like Superman song". In our house we don't just poop; we poop like Superman. Hey! Whatever works, right?

That's when it happened. "I trying to touch my toes. It not working. Moooooooooom!" Number One went in to "help". Number One helping The Beast is never ever a good idea. "Beast! Get that out of your butt crack!!" "I can't. It stuck!" The missionaries pretended not to hear the chaos that was happening in my bathroom, but I could tell they were dying inside and just praying for that Mormon lightning strike to hit at any second releasing them from the torture of dining with us. Before I could leave my seat, and do anything about it, The Beast came out completely naked to show me his problem. He turned around to show us his backside. There, for the whole world to see (or at least for these poor missionaries to see), was the Beast's crack FULL of toilet paper that he had wedged so far up that he couldn't get it out without it shredding to pieces leaving him to have to dig it out. Where the heck is my shovel??!?!?!?!!?

I quickly ushered him back to the bathroom while The King did all he could to change the topic to anything else. He talked about when they'd be returning home, favorite foods, college plans, really anything other than the pooping incident that was still unresolved. It was going well until he turned the conversation to the time our friend, Marlene, had used her bare hands to pick up a piece of the Beast's poop that had fallen out of his diaper onto the ground when he was just a baby. Yeah, way to go. That's going to take their attention away from the situation at hand.

As soon as dinner was over, the missionaries remembered that they had somewhere to be. Yeah, right. They were just traumatized by the lovely meal they'd enjoyed here. We apologized profusely for the dinner entertainment, but did point out that dining with us is usually birth control for missionaries who are soon to go home. Once they turned back to their regular color from the twenty shades of red they were, they whole-heartedly agreed with me.

So, that was this month's dinner with the missionaries. I just really don't think it's anything like the meals they have with other members. Really, I don't think it's anything like any meal they've had with any other humans. That said, I'm also sure it's a meal they'll never forget. Hopefully, they'll be ready for next month's dinner.

2 comments:

Amy said...

If I hadn't met you personally I'd say you made this up. But seeing as I've met you and your great kids I know you just couldn't make this up ;). Those Elders-oh what a story they'll have for there journal LOL

Dawn said...

Do Grandma and Grandpa really have any idea just what they're in for when you all are there???? I can just see Grandma now....