Finding a bench at church yesterday was a task. We ended up sitting on the right hand side, 2 benches from the front. The bishopric sits on the right side. The pulpit is has a pretty good view of the right side of the chapel.
The kids were their usual selves--having a hard time being reverent, couldn't sit still, talking loudly, doing what young kids do at church. Reese has especially been having a hard time this last month or so. She just can't sit still and is such a busy body. When she doesn't get her way she lets out the loudest, most wretched scream. Well, yesterday at church she was very upset at mom and dad because we wouldn't let her go to other benches and harass it's reverent occupants. I tried to distract her, play with her, really do anything to prevent the scream but it wasn't happening. So, I decide it's time Reesie is taken out into the hall. I stand up, turn around and start walking down the aisle in the chapel towards the rear doors. Two steps into it I realize that something doesn't feel quite right. I inconspicuously feel my shirt--it's long and where it should be. Nope, that wasn't it. Something still feels wrong. I reach and feel for my skirt. IT IS DOWN AROUND MY BOTTOM! NOT AT MY WAIST! Here I am hauling a mad, loud 27 pound child out with my skirt down around my butt where the bishopric and all the speakers cans see! Oh lovely! I didn't notice a pause in the talk, so maybe, just maybe, the speaker missed it. I am tempted to ask the bishopric's wives if their husbands saw anything "out of the ordinary" during sacrament yesterday. Good grief. My life.