Because we are the kind of people we are, up for a random challenge or a new experience, the husband and I sometimes stumble into offbeat situations. This weekend didn't disappoint, as we ended up attending an Anglican church service for the second Sunday of Easter (who knew this day was even celebrated?) at one of the pre-Revolutionary war chapels here. For full details about the history and pics of the historical marker, see the husband's blog entry on the subject. I've decided to confine myself to J and my adventures during this strange event.
We took the husband early for his call time (we were going at all in connection with a performance of the Charleston's Men's Chorus--always good for a random story! Did I mention the time we ended up at a picnic sitting next to a guy who has an entire room in his house dedicated to the Confederacy? Or how, at that same picnic, even though we arrived late--on purpose--we somehow managed to break protocol and start eating before anyone else had and before they'd SUNG grace? So much fun!), and J feel asleep in the car on the way over (he was getting progressively sicker, right before our eyes, but was as yet alright). So I dropped off the husband and drove around Goose Creek with my sleeping baby for a while. Eventually, he woke up, and I realized we were close to a Mormon chapel, so I headed over there to let him run off some steam in the gym (found a basketball for him to roll around, of course!) and change his diaper in a properly equipped bathroom. When he tired of the semi-dark gym, we found a park near the Anglican chapel and played until it was time for the service.
The chapel was cute but tiny and not child-friendly in any way. As this is the one service per year held there, it was also full of spiders and bugs, as was the cemetery surrounding the building. We were still early, so I let J romp on the graves (after having seen lots of the actual guests children doing the same--ever trying to avoid a faux pas am I!). Finally, the service began, just as J decided to have a meltdown. Even with a pacifier on the last pew at the back, we were a disturbance, so I headed back outside. And there we stayed, for the interminably long proceedings. A full Anglican service, with a very enthusiastic minister. While all that was going on, J and I explored the grounds, watched a tree frog, avoided a very noisy mama dog, talked with another mother who soon joined us with her three year old daughter (who informed me proudly she had given all her "passies" away to Santa, who in turn brought her an Ariel Barbie), discovered the stickiness of spider webs, ate snacks on the tombs, and played with the ancient iron gate. We also made (and by we I mean J) a LOT of noise at inopportune moments. Sigh!
Eventually, the sermon and service ended, and we were joined outside by Charleston's venerable citizens with their sun-dresses, hats, linen suits, and gracious Southern accents. There was a picnic to follow the event, but it was an odd combination of communal and personal food that wasn't designated in any obvious way, so I decided we should leave rather than risk yet more embarrassment by accidentally eating someone's favorite fried chicken. Plus, there were things like plates of deviled eggs appearing out of people's SUVs in the parking lot which made me more than a little concerned about food safety. Instead, we headed home and wondered about how we end up at such events in the first place!