It’s Sunday morning at church, and this time, instead of the girls, I’m the fidgety one.

I check my watch compulsively — I don’t want to lose track of time.  I have a mission to complete.

Bad timing on my youngest daughter’s social calendar requires me to leave half-way through Mass to collect her from a birthday party at the Cinedome.

Not to worry, I tell my husband. I’m a professional multi-tasker — I have this covered.

The theater is only a few blocks away from church, so I figure I can walk over, collect her and be back before the Mass finishes.

At 10:40 a.m. on the dot, I duck out a side door, trying to be inconspicuous.

It’s weird leaving in the middle of church. I feel like I’m playing hooky. Jeez, I hope Father Gordon doesn’t think I’ve got some kind of attitude.

But I don’t have time to worry. I’m on a deadline. Blinking a little in the daylight, I pull out my sunglasses and I’m off.

The sun is out, and it's warming up nicely. I feel a little bounce in my step.

Funny what you notice when you’re walking in a neighborhood you usually only drive through.

Heading down Yajome Street past some apartments, I hear some Mexican music playing quietly from an upstairs window. I figure whoever is inside is probably enjoying some breakfast and a quiet morning at home. I wonder what they’re cooking.

Part way down the block, the sidewalk ends. Now I’m walking on dirt. The mom in me immediately thinks of rain and mud. I can just hear the nearby parents scolding their kids to wipe their feet before they come inside.

Passing the skate park, a group of parents are setting up a table on the grass with food and gifts. It looks like they’re taking over the park for a boy’s birthday party. I guess they figured they would outnumber any homeless people or delinquents that early in the morning. Or feed them cake.

Reaching the Cinedome, I find the theater lobby deserted and dark.

The lone usher doesn’t blink when I enter without a ticket. I obviously have “Mom of Party-goer” written on my forehead.

Go on in, he says, the movie is almost over.

I get a little thrill because I feel like I'm getting in for free. I open the theater doors, and all of a sudden I'm in the middle of “High School Musical 3. “

It’s another world — packed with bright-eyed teenagers enthusiastically singing, dancing and vamping. There’s a show to be put on and by golly, nothing’s going to stop them.

I stand still to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, but I can't make out where my daughter is sitting. All I see are a bunch of little heads with ponytails, so I sit down.

After a few minutes of watching HSM (as it is known by fans) I realize it’s the “Grease” of today.

This movie pushes all the right buttons. I only watched the last 15 minutes, but they are the emotional climax of the movie. I don't even know these characters but they are so full of excitement and life, it’s infectious. Who can resist the boy with shaggy brown hair as he sweetly sings to his girl, “No matter wherrrrrrre life takes ussssss nothing can break us apaaaaaart?”

I get a little teary-eyed at the end, when they graduate with a bouncy song and dance routine. No wonder the HSM movies have made millions.

The credits start to roll and I think I see my daughter one row over. She spent the night at her friend’s house, so I’m looking forward to picking her up; my youngest and most huggy girl.

Hello, I say, surprising her in the dim light.

Mommy! she says, giving me a hug.

Walking out into the lobby the catchy music plays in my head. It’s hard to shake. Waving good-bye to her friends, we head outside and back to church.

Holding hands, and clutching her pink pillow and Barbie sleeping bag, we pass the birthday party at the skate park, which is now in full swing. Reaching the church, Mass is over. Time to go home.

It’s a sunny and bright day. 

“We’re all in this together,” goes the HSM anthem.

Yes, I think. On a Sunday morning, we are all in this together.

(Surrendering to Motherhood appears very other Monday, alternating in this space with Michelle Choat’s Girl on the Go.)