Cat

Even Craig has wholeheartedly admitted that Joe is a Bad Cat. Actually, he has some more colorful terms, but this is a family blog.

So. I had full dispensation to get rid of him, as long as I delivered him to another family or a shelter. I listed him on Craiglist and had a new home for him within 24 hours. Took him there yesterday.

He lasted FIVE minutes. The girl I gave him to has had zillions of pets, including, at present, another cat, 3 birds, and a tank full of fish. So, you know, she isn't a pet novice. Joe bit her twice. The first time, she called me (I was 3 blocks away) to ask whether he regularly bit people. I lied and said no. (Thank goodness she didn't ask whether he habitually pees down vents.) She conceded that he was probably just nervous and she'd give him some time.

Two blocks later, she called and asked me to come get him back. He had done a Pounce-and-Bite. Nice. **&%$#(*(&^&&^%^$$%

The worst part, to me (well, other than the obvious--that this horrid creature is still sleeping under our roof) is that Ainslie, despite being sad, handled leaving him SO WELL for an almost-four-year-old who for whatever reason, loves this cat. So now, he's back, and I can break her heart again when I take him to a shelter.

Baptisms, Religion, and Faith (oh, my!)

This is supposed to be an entry about Ainslie's baptism and the swirl of feelings and opinions I had/have, but it's really turning into a doozy.


Here's the Reader's Digest version of some background info: i.e., why Ainslie was baptized at 3 years old:

Craig's family is more High Church and of the Infant Baptism persuasion. My family is of the Old Enough To Make a Confession of Faith state of mind. Before we became parents, I knew it was important to Craig and his family to have children baptized as infants, and after all, it wouldn't hurt them, so I said, Fine, as long as he sets it up (knowing full well it would take, well, three years.) Ok, I'm being a little jokey, but what with the moving and all, it's taken this long. And I'm glad. Ainslie was so excited! She kept asking, "How many days 'til my baptism? I just can't wait to be baptized!" We had many conversations with her about what it means to be God's child, and to have Jesus in your heart, and, as well as a three-year old can, I think she understands.


What I have learned, is that baptism, in the ELCA context, is defined differently than in my Disciples of Christ context, and I'm ok with that. I've seen several ELCA confirmation classes make their confirmations and have been moved by the conviction with which those kids speak and act. Everybody's happy, right?


Ugh.


I've always thought that we have different denominations of the Christian faith because God gave us minds with which to think and question. How can we all come to the exact same conclusions about each passage of scripture? How could we all interpret everything the exact same way? We can't! We're human!


Where it gets dangerous, in my opinion, is when one group asserts that they are right, and the rest of us are going to hell. Literally.



Enter my dear old dad.



My parents are happily married, but they have always gone to separtate churches. Before I was born, my mom was visiting church with my dad and grandparents and the preacher told the congregation, in no uncertain terms, that unless you belong to the Church of Christ--NOT the Universal-Capital-C-CHURCH, but this particular uber-conservative instrumental music-less, non-ministerial-alliance participating denomination, you are hellbound. My mom decided that day that no child of hers would ever be a member of that church.


Anyhoo. Brother, Sister and I were well-churched in the more open-minded Disciples of Christ denomination. I married Craig, we found a good fit for the both of us in Lutheran ELCA. We begat Ainslie. Three years later, her baptism approaches. 2 hours before the service, my dad informs me he isn't attending. Fabulous. This'll go over well.


I have relatives arriving, people all over my house, a small girl who needs to be dressed and groomed and now this.

So, we argue doctrine for awhile. He is absolutely convinced that, let's see, all the Methodists, Baptists, Presbyterians, Lutherans, Catholics, Nazarenes, Disciples, UCC'ers, etc, are Doing It Wrong and will be judged thusly.


Arrogance!


I learned a long time ago not to keep arguing, because this idea is so deeply ingrained, there is no room for logic within this otherwise educated man's head or heart. As more relatives arrived, I told him, " You asked whether I'd be upset. Yes, I am upset. It's a family event. All you have to do is show up and sit there for an hour. I am being polite. I can guarantee Craig won't be, and then this is going to turn into a festering *thing* for the next who-knows-how-long. Please come."


Thankfully, Mom made him come.


The sermon was beautiful. Pastor spoke about Jesus getting lambasted for curing the woman on the Sabbath, and then went on to admonish us to not get so caught up in the Rules--the Rituals, the Doctrines, but to get out there and Live It. Do what is right. Help people. Don't worry about what others think or whether you are following the rules of the congregation. Live righteously without worrying whether you appear to be. He reminded us that the Rules of any church are just man-made. Hope Dad was listening.


Anyway, Ainslie did well. We're very proud of her, on many levels. If any mothers of three-year-olds are wondering, there was no hissing when the water touched her. :-) Had to throw that in--there are days when I wonder.


A couple of pictures

You Lost Me At "Babysitter."

I don't know whether anyone remembers my story about the student (who is in his 30's) who I hadn't met all quarter, who then e-mailed me the next-to-last week of class telling me how important his job is and how although he had never been to my class, he knew everything and would like to take the final and pass the class...? Maybe I posted it on PALP---anyway, he strikes again!

Last night, he actually showed up in a different class on Week 2 of the quarter! After class, he approached me and gave me the "my -job- is- so- important -I- work- at -the -mercy -of- the -legislative- session- because- I- am- a -lobbyist" spiel. My attitude is, if you don't have time to take a class, don't sign up for it.

Anyway, I very sweetly explained to him that I completely understand where he is coming from. I also have other commitments--I do consulting work at all hours of the clock and stay home full time with a child--yet since I committed to teach this class, I get to class.

"Yeah, but...is it really that important that I actually be present in class? I mean, this is my second career and all and I already know the information..."

(Silently) "Oh, really, you little pipsqueak?" (Aloud) "Look, B, everyone in here has other commitments. Yet, we make it to class. You will be graded by the same syllabus requirements as everyone else. If my husband can't get home in time, or I can't get a babysitter, I still have to find a way to get here, because I said I would."

"Oh, wow, if only I could get a babysitter to do MY JOB."


Alrighty then. We're on.

On the other side of the (de)fense

My mom is patently (if subconciously) prejudiced against mothers who choose to work outside of the home. I don't need to watch Dr. Phil to surmise that this is largely because she never did (and never had a "career" because she never finished college and feels somewhat inadequate or whatever about that...but mother/daughter issues are a completely different rant.) She will say things about So-and-So having a large house or taking fancy vacations, and then qualify it with, "Of course, she *worked* (as if the work in question was prostitution) when her kids were growing up." When I mention preschool or some part-time daycare for Ainslie so that I can take on more work, I am met with, "oh, but you'll miss SO much" ...and I am talking 6 hours a week.

Anyhoo. I am not thusly prejudiced. I think we all just do the best we can for our children. Some moms are better moms for working out of the home, some are better at home. I'm thrilled to be able to work on my terms right now.

BUT.

File this under, "Why can't people who have no idea keep their big mouths shut?"
OR
"Why on earth does this bother me so much?"

Lately, I been feeling the reverse SAHM discrimination. Why on earth don't I work and how could I deprive my child of 40 hours of daycare a week? Despite the fact that I DO work about 20 hours a week in my field, I suppose the usual uniform of yoga pants and solid long-sleeved tees give me that Mommy Chic (or NOT) look, so people assume I am a FT SAHM, which is a FINE job description by itself. Why then, if I am FT SAHM would I be dropping off some assignments for students at the college I teach at?

URGH. So here comes today's real story. I had to drop off some tests for two students to make up. I don't teach on Mondays. I run errands and work out on Mondays (because I have no home to clean, etc). I am with Ainslie all day on Mondays. So, I arrived at the building wearing black yoga pants, a shirt, and a zipped-up fleece jacket, hair and face looking ok (not Totally Done but not Just Rolled out of Bed), holding Ainslie's hand and carrying the papers. Ainslie, by the way, had chosen a dress with matching tights and her hair was Done. (She always looks better than I do.) ANYWAY, the women working in the resource center today was probably a full-time faculty member (big whoop, btw, this isn't exactly Ivy League) and after I explained what I was dropping off, she turned to Ainslie and asked her where she went to school. Ainslie said, "I don't go to school yet." very clearly--Ainslie knows about school and that she will go to preschool and then Big School someday.
This woman says, in a very condescending voice, "You don't? How do you learn?" I said, "well, she is not even 2 and a half yet. She learns from me." So then the woman drones on about, "do you go to daycare to play with friends?" "it's so important at this age to play with other kids." "Do you have friends, honey?" Ainslie responds with, "I have my friend Cawowine, and Anna, and..." But I was already completely annoyed. Pardon my French, but WTF?

WHEN did going to daycare become the preferred activity? WHO decided daycare is better than parents? Who did this woman think she was, passive-agressively questioning my choices to my 2-yr old, when she knows nothing about me or Ainslie?


Ainslie will probably go to preschool. For now, she knows a heck of a lot more academically than most other kids her age I've met. She rides a trike and a scooter like a pro, she holds a crayon *almost* the right way, and she can sit cross-legged, that benchmark of preschool skills. She sight-reads quite a few words, she knows how to share (not that she does it), she pretends a lot, she gallops, she...well, not being in daycare doesn't appear to have hindered her.

So, Moms who work outside of the home, BACK OFF. I was once one of you--I support you and your choice, but until you know MY child and her gifts, abilities and schedule, SHUT UP. Apparently, way back when, SOME preschools didn't put enough emphasis on polite conversation.

Preschool or Not to School? Lots of Questions.

I've been thinking a lot about preschool lately, mostly because a sleep-deprived toddler whining at you (when you, as a result, are also sleep-deprived) will send your thoughts in the direction of outsourcing.

I don't really know how I feel about preschool at this point. I think that Ainslie should, at some time, attend one, but with the news that there is in fact a reputable preschool nearby that takes 2.5 yr-olds, a decision seems imminent, mostly because if I continue to teach 2 mornings a week, I need to decide whether to continue to mooch off the grandparents, or find a different situation, and either way, there are pros and cons.

Academically, Ainslie is way ahead of the curve. There. I said it. She knows all the letters and the sounds they make, she sight-reads a few words and she memorizes Everything. (Even the obscure Mother Goose rhymes that nobody really knows so we tend to skip over in the book...? Bat, Bat, Come Under My Hat? She knows it better than I do.) Anyway, if you ask her what sound a word starts with, she can correctly identify the letter, even if she can't pronounce it correctly, which is quite amusing.

Me: What sound does Wiggle start with?
A: Wuh. Dubble-woo.
Me: What about Race?
A: Ewww, Awe. (for those that don't speak fluent toddler, she is saying Errrr, R.)

She can count to 20 (although 18 sometimes immediately follows 11), she knows her shapes and colors, including deliniations of darker and lighter. If you ask her favorite color these days, she will tell you it is Light Blue. In short, what is a preschool program designed for 2.5 yr olds going to offer her academically?

Then there is the social aspect. If I hear one more person (and mostly a particular person) tell me that Ainslie needs to socialize because I stay at home with her and therefore runs the risk of being a creepy loner, I may go all Homeskooled in Ruby Ridge on them (her). First of all, she is TWO, and she plays with or alongside other children in the way they all do at that age. Of course I want her to learn to play well with others. I also want her to learn to follow directions, even when she doesn't want to. I'd like her to actually be quiet when I tell her to be quiet. I guess my 'thing' here is that Ainslie is 30 months old and has been going to various Mommy and Me programs since she was 15 months, so yes, I think she is getting adequate social time with her peers without spending 40 hours a week in day care. Since when did day care become the preferable option for tiny kids?

So...I don't know. Six hours a week of preschool certainly will not kill her. I just worry that that on top of gymnastics (which she loves and excels at) is a lot for a not-even-three year old, plus there is a music class here that I think she would enjoy. She plays in the kids' room at the Y a few times a week and we just started hanging out with a group of other moms and 2-yr olds on an informal basis...but then what about the days when I need to work? Then there is the fact that she has 17+ years of formal education in front of her, do we really have to start them earlier and earlier?

I'm rambling. I don't know what the answer is. I don't have to figure it out today. Maybe I won't even be assigned a daytime class next quarter. Maybe she and I will start reading Shakespeare and acting it out in the driveway.

Greener grass?

Sorry to shock anyone, but being a part-time-contract-work-from-home-stay-at-home-mom is MUCH more physically demanding than going to an office job all day. When I worked out of the home all day I got to sit on my derriere most of the day, eat and drink whenever it was convenient for me, and rarely had to bathe someone in the middle of the day because that person had eaten too many mandarin oranges the day before.

Yesterday, for example, my schedule may have sounded simple: do normal Ainslie things, stop by Robert Morris to pick up books and syllabi, be on a conference call at 9:30, work while Ainslie naps. OK...

Get up at 6. Take care of hyperactive blind diabetic Labrador. Put contacts in, along with workout clothes that I did not get to put to use. Get Ainslie out of bed, juiced, fed. Bring laptop downstairs. Create a play-doh station, coloring station, and put in a dvd to facilitate me being on the phone. Participate in conference call, explaining that the noise in the background is Disney's Cinderella.

Wait for client to send documents. Download them, while wrestling Ainslie into clothes. Change my clothes, realizing the dream of working out today is just that.

Go to Robert Morris. Become secretly mortified that my new boss-to-be (who is thankfully a grandmother) is pushing Ainslie around in an office chair to occupy her. Run to packing place to fax back a contract. Get home, feed Ainslie lunch, put her down for a nap, sit down to work. Wish I could take a nap.

I'm not complaining; I feel very, very lucky that I am able to earn some decent money doing things I am actually educated to do and still get to spend so much time with Ainslie. I'm just setting the record straight. Physically, working outside of the home is less demanding.

Somewhere between Plymouth Rock and Vegas

Lately, our Sunday routine has gone like this: try a church, try a breakfast, look at open houses. I really enjoy this routine because we need to find a church, we need to know who in town has the best breakfast, and I am nosy and like open houses. Oh, and we need one of those too.

Anyway, I want to focus on churches here. Of course, we have kind of a short list of possibilities. It would almost be easier if we had both been raised in the same denomination and that denomination was one that teaches that they are IT. Thou shalt not attend any other brand of church but me. Well, ok, it wouldn't actually be easier because I couldn't belong to a church like that, because, well, darn, the whole thing is cyclical, and that leads to the list of qualifications:

Must be completely ecumenical. Must be accepting of all lifestyles and leave the judging to God. Must offer communion every week. Must have lots of young children. Must like children.

Must like children? What kind of church wouldn't like kids? Well...

So, a couple weeks ago we tried an Uberchurch that people just rave about. Now, don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like contemporary praise worship, it's just, well--I'll get there in a bit.

So, there is special parking for "1st and 2nd time visitors only." Ok. Nice--except someone met us, literally, in the parking space to usher us inside and show us around. Some would say this is welcoming and helpful. Others might think it's a tad over the top. I guess it depends on whether you like to stand out as a first-time visitor in a crowded auditorium (I'm sorry, I mean Worship Center, not sanctuary) of 1000+ people, or if you prefer to be somewhat anonymous, but our guide was very nice and friendly. He showed us where to sign Ainslie into the children's center and obtain a security number for her. The only shadow passed over our guide's face when we said Ainslie would sit with us, this first time, because that is what she is used to. He quickly showed us the cry room, just in case.

Once we sat down with our glossy brochure (not a mere bulletin) we understood. On the back it states that, "Main worship is not designed for children." Hmmmm.

Ok. Soon, the lights were dimmed and the show began. So here's where I get into the whole Praise thing. I like it. Within reason. Our current church in Chicago offers a choice of traditional or praise services and we attend both. I don't think, however, that a show, in which people are constantly just *performing* is the spiritual experience we are looking for. It also really bothers me when church is held in a Worship Center that looks remarkably like a theater (and that was my major so I'm pretty keen on what one looks like) and has NO CROSS visible. That really bugged us. I mean, what is the POINT?

Then, the kids issue. Worship is not designed for children? On a purely practical nature, how do little ones learn what is expected of them if you don't take them places? Ainslie is certainly not perfectly quiet in church, but she's pretty good for a 2-yr old (most of the time) because we've always taken her. On a more important note, though, HELLO? No kids allowed? Craig thinks it is because the actors and singers don't want their show interrupted. One more thing on the kids. I'm too Protestant to be a proponent of infant baptism, but that is another post. I do, however, like the idea of Baby Dedications. So, this couple comes down with their infant (don't know how they got the kid through security) and the pastor basically says, "Welcome to parenthood. Now sit back down." Of course, he was probably tired after his 40 minute one-man show--sermon. No "Let us welcome this child into our fellowship." No, "Let us guide this child..." etc.

Anyway. Not a great fit for the Wilson family.

This leads me to something else I've been thinking about for a few years. Is the whole Christian Experience different for someone who finds God as an adult than for someone who is brought up in faith? It seems like people I hear speak who find God later in life are more full of wonder, or something, and I think that is great. I guess when you grow up knowing Bible stories and understanding who Jesus is, it maybe isn't as exciting as discovering Him later? Not that my faith isn't renewed, tested, and twisted from time to time, but I just have been thinking about this. The part of this that bugs me though, is the claim of being a Born Again Christian. By baptism, we are all born again, and I don't think there is any special distinction for being more born again than someone else. That just bugs me.

Ok, so I will close with a genuinely happy thought, and I'm not being sarcastic. I have always thought it a particulary neat trick of God's that He gave us minds, and therefore we *can't* really all worship Him in the same exact manner. I do think it's great that we are able to find Him and worship Him in a way that is meaningful for each of us.

Meanwhile, for Craig, Ainslie and I, back to the short list.

File under: Everyone Should Be More Like Me

Last I checked, air conditioning was invented to keep people more comfortable during hot summer months, not to kill them slowly during the summer by causing their bodies to adjust to a metabolic rate found only in hibernating bears. Don't get me wrong, having grown up in the middle of the midwest, I would never buy a house without central air (or a basement, but that's another post) but ple--ease. It seems the further south you go, the colder people keep the AC. I've noticed, being a whopping 200 miles south of Chicago, people in Springfield seem to favor a temperature in restaurants that completely negates the concept of a hot meal. I'll admit, I'm a Woman Who is Always a Little Cold, but Craig, who is always warmer than I am, had his winter pajama pants out the other night. We went to our Vacation Home in Chicago last weekend and revelled in the thermostat set at 76.

I was in Florida last week and really, people, must you overcompensate so? My hotel room's thermostat was set at 60. I LIKE summer. If I liked being that cold, I'd move north, where they don't have central air.