“So, what kind of church is this?”  My little younger brother asked of my approaching baptism.

“Oh, you know…the usual,”  I replied, “black hooded capes and candles and stuff.  You know..the usual.”

“Of course,” he said.

(NOTE:  SARCASM)

This baptism was a little less nerve-wracking than my first – or, I would imagine, anyhow.  I wore a cute little white frilly thing for my first baptism, and this past Easter Sunday, I stood in front of my closet trying to decide between a pair of gray drawstring pants or khaki capris – the only two pairs of “pants” that still fit me (with the exception of some very HOT blue and yellow spongebob pajama pants).  It was a tough call, but ultimately I went with the capris after having carefully calculated exactly who had seen me in which bottoms the most that previous week.

S and I arrived at the church early for an Easter “break-fast”, leaving L to come in time for the services with my mom.  I took advantage of the smorgasborg and piled my plate high, knowing that soon I’d have to move back to pants that use real buttons rather than elastic bands.  Besides, Aurora made me.

The service itself was great, well…except for one thing.  I really thought Mike was going to break out into a solo with his microphone but alas, he did not.  My disappointment dissipated quickly, though, as it WAS Easter – that, and my attention span was burning a little short thanks to the (delicious) breakfast we’d had earlier.

As I waddled walked out the side door to prepare for the baptism, L screamed her protest.  I swear the kid wanted NOTHING to do with me until the moment she thought I was going somewhere.  So, we went ahead and brought her to the back.  I was handed something that looked much like a summertime blue space suit – and despite my request to have one specially trimmed in white lace, I ended up donning the suit as was.  I’m sure they simply forgot.

I had also discussed with certain members that I would like my own theme song and some special back-lighting.  I figured if they’d just hold me up as I entered the water, I could do some fancy footwork and make this a service nobody would soon forget.  Instead, they just stared at me.

“What?  You mean I actually have to walk down the steps by myself?  Or, do I wait for you to push me?”

They let me walk.

I do have to say, though – they did warm the water up quite nicely and the area really is the perfect size for a water birth.  And, much closer to hospitals (just in case).  So…I’m thinking…

Anyways, it was great and wonderful (even without the theme music, lace, and lighting), but I’m pretty sure I traumatized my poor sweet L – seeing as how she screamed bloody murder when I went underwater.  After that, she wouldn’t leave my side until I was dressed and standing out front again with all sorts of plugs and outlets nearby to play with.  Sorry kid, I know it was your birthday and Easter and all, but I thought it’d be fun to make you think I was being drowned (I maybe should’ve explained what was going to happen to you first?)

Oh…and I’m a little upset that nobody told me you’d only be able to see my hairline and up since I’m so short.  Had I known, I’d totally have packed some moon-shoes and hair-sprayed my hair up into a cute but very large beehive so at least people could see my hair.  Just sayin’.

That – and, a trapeze or some dolphins.  Oh, and the stairs coming down?  Totally needs to be a water slide.  For real.

But really…it was perfect.

(My hot attire without the lace I requested)

(No wonder L screamed.  It does kind of look like he’s drowning me – which he wasn’t.)

(This should so be a slide.  That, and Steven thinks I look like Mary here.  A very pregnant Mary with swollen ankles.  And no lace.)

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