This past Sunday, my family went out to breakfast with S's parents. It was really nice. Over breakfast, we discussed our experiences at mass. S and I have recently decided to abandon to main sanctuary in favor of the cry room. We were telling his parents about how much we appreciate the fact that almost nobody in the cry room uses it as a playroom and that most of the parents are all working hard to keep the room feeling like an extension of the church. I was telling them how refreshing this experience was.
On the way home, I cracked open the bulletin we had picked up on the way out of the church. Our bulletin runs an "advice column" called Parenting from the Pews. Honestly, I have no idea who the author (or authoress, as I suspect) is. But this is what was written:
Recently my son was having an “off” day during Mass (as it turns out he was coming down with a virus) and I found myself in need of the cry room to head off a tantrum. Unfortunately, however, we couldn't even get into the cry room for lack of room. We were attending Mass at a time we don’t typically attend so I found myself at a loss of what to do. We ended up making our way into the cry room and I was struck by several things. The first was how few babies were crying. None of them were, actually. Maybe that was because there were no babies in the cry room. There were several toddlers quietly playing and plenty of older siblings and parents. I almost felt bad for bringing my son in there mid-tantrum but it brings up a point I’ve made before. The cry room is for crying children – a place to soothe your child while still attending Mass. It is not intended for anyone to actually be seated from the opening hymn to the closing hymn (and, in all honestly, it has the worst seats and sound system of the entire church – you can’t see anything other than the choir if you sit anywhere beyond the first two seats on the left side). Don’t get me wrong, I understand the attraction to sitting in the cry room when you have young children but it is even more difficult to teach your children how to behave during Mass when they aren't among the congregation and can fully see what is taking place. My recommendation would be to sit just outside the cry room and only need it when your child is crying. Try it out and let me know how it goes.
It isn't that I don't understand this person's point. I think it is a product of human nature to want to apply our own system of thinking to everyone else's circumstances. This is one of those times where I want to believe that this person just couldn't see the whole situation from another person's perspective. And I have chosen to take the last phrase of the last sentence completely literally. Here is my response (although I will send a slightly more pared-down version to the columnist):
I am one of those parents who sit in the cry room, with my family, from start to finish. Here’s my take on it.
My husband and I call the cry room “Purgatory.” It is often a place of “suffering.” We are, in fact, separated from the rest of the happenings of mass. But, alas, we have hope! We have hope that one day, we will be able to leave this place of wailing and gnashing of teeth and rejoin our brothers and sisters in the main sanctuary.
We use the cry room because we have a 3 year old and an 18 month old. They rival the noise level of moose and are often not in need of “soothing.” Usually, they are happy! My son has joyfully exclaimed, “I see Desus! I see Desus!” in the middle of Mass. My daughter has squealed with delight over bells and other fun sounds. True, sometimes they aren't happy. Sometimes, they are fighting over the same “My First Catholic Prayer Book”, despite following all the suggestions from our baptismal preparation class about bringing a few, special, Church-only, Church-themed books or toys to help our children appreciate the solemnity of Mass. Until recently, we were a regular, pew-dwelling family, arriving early to guarantee seats near the cry room. After several consecutive weeks of taking both of our children out simultaneously, we felt selfish expecting those lining the back and sides of the church to not lay claim to our seats. We disliked disturbing our neighbors with our back and forth trips and the inevitable retrieval of the diaper bag accidentally left under the seats of the new occupants.
In our experience, most of the families in the cry room try hard to keep an atmosphere of reverence. We remind our older children to whisper and to sit and stand appropriately. We understand when little ones babble, the newly potty-trained loudly announce their needs, and when parents choose to ride out their child’s wailing. We understand, and even help keep an eye on the 5 year old sibling who is left in the room, while the visibly exhausted parent takes the screaming toddler outside for a breather. We happily do our best to make room for the parents coming and going for brief soothing sessions. Believe me, we are all looking forward to the day when our time in the cry room will be for brief trips to calm down a child having an “off” day.
My husband and I are grateful that the cry room is available. We know we still receive the grace we desperately need and appreciate the opportunity to experience a less stressful mass as a family. For what it’s worth, I’d rather be in a “standing room only” cry room full of “regulars” and know that we are all still taking our Sunday obligation seriously, than have a bunch of young, Catholic families feel like they can’t keep going to mass on account of their kids’ behavior.
On the way home, I cracked open the bulletin we had picked up on the way out of the church. Our bulletin runs an "advice column" called Parenting from the Pews. Honestly, I have no idea who the author (or authoress, as I suspect) is. But this is what was written:
Recently my son was having an “off” day during Mass (as it turns out he was coming down with a virus) and I found myself in need of the cry room to head off a tantrum. Unfortunately, however, we couldn't even get into the cry room for lack of room. We were attending Mass at a time we don’t typically attend so I found myself at a loss of what to do. We ended up making our way into the cry room and I was struck by several things. The first was how few babies were crying. None of them were, actually. Maybe that was because there were no babies in the cry room. There were several toddlers quietly playing and plenty of older siblings and parents. I almost felt bad for bringing my son in there mid-tantrum but it brings up a point I’ve made before. The cry room is for crying children – a place to soothe your child while still attending Mass. It is not intended for anyone to actually be seated from the opening hymn to the closing hymn (and, in all honestly, it has the worst seats and sound system of the entire church – you can’t see anything other than the choir if you sit anywhere beyond the first two seats on the left side). Don’t get me wrong, I understand the attraction to sitting in the cry room when you have young children but it is even more difficult to teach your children how to behave during Mass when they aren't among the congregation and can fully see what is taking place. My recommendation would be to sit just outside the cry room and only need it when your child is crying. Try it out and let me know how it goes.
It isn't that I don't understand this person's point. I think it is a product of human nature to want to apply our own system of thinking to everyone else's circumstances. This is one of those times where I want to believe that this person just couldn't see the whole situation from another person's perspective. And I have chosen to take the last phrase of the last sentence completely literally. Here is my response (although I will send a slightly more pared-down version to the columnist):
I am one of those parents who sit in the cry room, with my family, from start to finish. Here’s my take on it.
My husband and I call the cry room “Purgatory.” It is often a place of “suffering.” We are, in fact, separated from the rest of the happenings of mass. But, alas, we have hope! We have hope that one day, we will be able to leave this place of wailing and gnashing of teeth and rejoin our brothers and sisters in the main sanctuary.
We use the cry room because we have a 3 year old and an 18 month old. They rival the noise level of moose and are often not in need of “soothing.” Usually, they are happy! My son has joyfully exclaimed, “I see Desus! I see Desus!” in the middle of Mass. My daughter has squealed with delight over bells and other fun sounds. True, sometimes they aren't happy. Sometimes, they are fighting over the same “My First Catholic Prayer Book”, despite following all the suggestions from our baptismal preparation class about bringing a few, special, Church-only, Church-themed books or toys to help our children appreciate the solemnity of Mass. Until recently, we were a regular, pew-dwelling family, arriving early to guarantee seats near the cry room. After several consecutive weeks of taking both of our children out simultaneously, we felt selfish expecting those lining the back and sides of the church to not lay claim to our seats. We disliked disturbing our neighbors with our back and forth trips and the inevitable retrieval of the diaper bag accidentally left under the seats of the new occupants.
In our experience, most of the families in the cry room try hard to keep an atmosphere of reverence. We remind our older children to whisper and to sit and stand appropriately. We understand when little ones babble, the newly potty-trained loudly announce their needs, and when parents choose to ride out their child’s wailing. We understand, and even help keep an eye on the 5 year old sibling who is left in the room, while the visibly exhausted parent takes the screaming toddler outside for a breather. We happily do our best to make room for the parents coming and going for brief soothing sessions. Believe me, we are all looking forward to the day when our time in the cry room will be for brief trips to calm down a child having an “off” day.
My husband and I are grateful that the cry room is available. We know we still receive the grace we desperately need and appreciate the opportunity to experience a less stressful mass as a family. For what it’s worth, I’d rather be in a “standing room only” cry room full of “regulars” and know that we are all still taking our Sunday obligation seriously, than have a bunch of young, Catholic families feel like they can’t keep going to mass on account of their kids’ behavior.