Dear Beck,
it has been two months since I have written about you and looking back at the 15 month post, I cannot believe how much has changed.
Let me think...
~you finally started pointing last month and now you point at everything
~if there is something you want, you point AND grunt, charming
~you now say 'dah' (dog), 'woof,' 'up,' 'ish' (this).
~you sign 'more' and 'milk'
~you understand a TON and I can give you simple directions "put your cars away," "give this to daddy," "go wash your hands"
~you give high-fives and fist bumps
~you like shooting hoops with dad
~you are obsessed with your window crayons and enjoy play-doh as well
~you love being outside and people-watching
~you love music and will bob your head right along with daddy's loud music (he is so proud)
~you always kiss us goodbye
~you LOVE when your Grandma and Oma come to visit
~you enjoy truck sounds and have started making then while you play with your monster trucks
~you have had 16 teeth for awhile now (got all four canines at 15 months) and I suspect the second set of molars is starting to bother you occasionally as well (only 4 more to go!)
~you are still a great eater and have definitely started exhibiting some preferences
Phew! You also had your first major illness. :( The day AFTER your 15-month well visit, you were definitely off. You were home with daddy that day and he took you back to the doc. You were diagnosed with an ear infection. A nasty ear infection that gave you 104.3* fever that night. My poor pumpkin, you were absolutely burning up! That was our first parenting moment where we were wondering what to do. The debate of "do we go to the hospital or are we over-reacting" was raging. You were due for another dose of Tylenol at that point and, thankfully, your fever broke then. You were only content snuggled up on my chest and slept that way most of the night. It took a couple days and a course of antibiotics (which you took happily, just like all the other medicines you have received), but you bounced back pretty quickly. Fingers crossed that was our first and last.
We took our first trip to Ohio to visit your Gpa and Nona for Easter. You were a great little traveler, as usual. You do not get to see them too often, but we still Skype every weekend and you are starting to get really comfortable with them.
Just in this last week, you have started walking confidently. You now do lap through the kitchen and living rooms and enjoy walking the driveway outside as well.
Your dad and I also took you for your first haircut this weekend. It is absolutely amazing what taking a little fuzz off can do--you look like a little boy now, not a baby. Which, I guess, is exactly what you are... Growing too fast, kiddo.
Love you bunches,
Momma
Monday, April 29, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
The one about Religion: a history and a beginning.
Things are about to get heavy in here. I normally stay away from the more controversial of topics, but I found myself thinking about Religion, Faith, and Spirituality a lot over this past weekend and I really just need a place to purge some of these thoughts as I try to make sense of it all. This is your disclaimer to skip this post if you are easily offended or just do not care. :)
My thoughts are really jumbled right now, so this will probably be hard to follow.
We took our first trip to Ohio to visit my husband's dad and step-mom. They are regular church-goers; we are not. They celebrate the religious aspect of the Easter holiday; we "celebrate" the bunny and chocolate. They have crucifixes up in their house; I think they are kinda creepy.
Let me back up...
My mom went to Catholic school. She had services every morning before class as a regular part of her day. My dad went to church growing up too, but I honestly do not even know what church he was a part of (not a Catholic one). Basically his mom forced him to go and once he was able to stop going, he did. So, since my parents were both forced to go, I guess they decided to force me to go as well. I went to CCD and occasionally to services on Sundays. Dad did not attend, so it was just me and my mom. Going to church was still not a high priority on her list, so we were not there often. I had my first communion. I even made it to my first confession. I do not even remember how old I was at this time. 11? Maybe? Dunno. This is where things went bad. I think it was for my second or third confession that I chose to go face-to-face. This is where, instead of sitting in the confessionals, blocked by walls and screens, you just sit in a room with the priest and chat. What exactly does an 11 year-old have to confess anyway? "I talked back to mom and dad. I didn't do what I was told. I only made it to church once this month." Oops. Yeah. That last one? That did not go over well. I do not remember exactly what was said to me. All I know is that although I held out during the time that I was seated in that chair, I left the church that night in tears. This representative of the church had basically told me that I was evil for not going to church every Sunday. That my parents were evil for not taking me to church every Sunday. That I needed to beg forgiveness for all of us. Really? This seemed so wrong to me. I thought I was a pretty good kid. And my parents were my world, how could they be evil?! Anyway, it took a lot of coaxing, but I finally told my mom why I was so upset. I am sure by then that she had formulated much worse things in her head. She then told me that she had had a very similar experience growing up. That she had told her pastor that her parents did not attend church regularly and pastor had told her that they were wrong. Never mind the fact that they were immigrants who did not understand English. Or that they often worked on Sundays to pay for their two daughters. I stopped attending CCD and church after that night. I just refused to go. My mother tried on several occasions to enroll me in other programs just so I could get confirmed. In case I ever wanted to get married in a Catholic church, she said. I went a few times, but I always ended up dropping out of those programs before finishing. I was completely disappointed with "The Church" as a whole. Of course I have no idea if every church was like this, but this experience definitely ruined it for me.
Fast forward...
I am college-educated. Have an MS in a biology field, even. Trained in research and deciphering data. Data which show results of carefully formulated experiments. Experiments that demonstrate processes that you can actually SEE with your own eyes. See where this is going yet? I admit that I do not remember a lot from my CCD and church days, but as I sat in church services with my in-laws this weekend, Easter weekend, and listened to the stories about Jesus rising from the dead... Well, I felt an overwhelming sense of disbelief. And do not get me started on the immaculate conception. (And let's ignore dinosaurs and evolution as well for now.) My brain cannot process this. I do not understand how anyone can believe these things. I have no faith.
This is not to say that I think people that go to church are dumb. I actually find myself kind of envious of the people that can believe in something without ever seeing it. With no evidence at all. These people have Faith. They just *know* something. They feel it in their bones. That is pretty darn amazing. I do not know what I believe anymore. I think I believe in a Higher Power, but I am not sure that it is this version that I read about in the bible so many years ago. Like I said, my brain just does not understand how religion and science are compatible at this point. And that might just be because science is all that I have been exposed to for the last...20 years?
I started thinking about what I would tell my son as he is getting older. What will his beliefs be? Of course, he will only be exposed to these things if we choose to expose him. I would very much like for him to make his own decisions about these things. Of course, that means that I have to educate myself. Again. And for the first time in some regard. I have decided that during our next trip to the library, along with books for my little man, I will be getting a book on religion. I am not sure what the title will be, maybe it will just be a bible. I have no idea. And it will likely take me months to finish it. But I want to start and I need to start somewhere. This will be a long journey, one that I will certainly struggle with.
If you have any suggestions for a skeptic, let me know.
My thoughts are really jumbled right now, so this will probably be hard to follow.
We took our first trip to Ohio to visit my husband's dad and step-mom. They are regular church-goers; we are not. They celebrate the religious aspect of the Easter holiday; we "celebrate" the bunny and chocolate. They have crucifixes up in their house; I think they are kinda creepy.
Let me back up...
My mom went to Catholic school. She had services every morning before class as a regular part of her day. My dad went to church growing up too, but I honestly do not even know what church he was a part of (not a Catholic one). Basically his mom forced him to go and once he was able to stop going, he did. So, since my parents were both forced to go, I guess they decided to force me to go as well. I went to CCD and occasionally to services on Sundays. Dad did not attend, so it was just me and my mom. Going to church was still not a high priority on her list, so we were not there often. I had my first communion. I even made it to my first confession. I do not even remember how old I was at this time. 11? Maybe? Dunno. This is where things went bad. I think it was for my second or third confession that I chose to go face-to-face. This is where, instead of sitting in the confessionals, blocked by walls and screens, you just sit in a room with the priest and chat. What exactly does an 11 year-old have to confess anyway? "I talked back to mom and dad. I didn't do what I was told. I only made it to church once this month." Oops. Yeah. That last one? That did not go over well. I do not remember exactly what was said to me. All I know is that although I held out during the time that I was seated in that chair, I left the church that night in tears. This representative of the church had basically told me that I was evil for not going to church every Sunday. That my parents were evil for not taking me to church every Sunday. That I needed to beg forgiveness for all of us. Really? This seemed so wrong to me. I thought I was a pretty good kid. And my parents were my world, how could they be evil?! Anyway, it took a lot of coaxing, but I finally told my mom why I was so upset. I am sure by then that she had formulated much worse things in her head. She then told me that she had had a very similar experience growing up. That she had told her pastor that her parents did not attend church regularly and pastor had told her that they were wrong. Never mind the fact that they were immigrants who did not understand English. Or that they often worked on Sundays to pay for their two daughters. I stopped attending CCD and church after that night. I just refused to go. My mother tried on several occasions to enroll me in other programs just so I could get confirmed. In case I ever wanted to get married in a Catholic church, she said. I went a few times, but I always ended up dropping out of those programs before finishing. I was completely disappointed with "The Church" as a whole. Of course I have no idea if every church was like this, but this experience definitely ruined it for me.
Fast forward...
I am college-educated. Have an MS in a biology field, even. Trained in research and deciphering data. Data which show results of carefully formulated experiments. Experiments that demonstrate processes that you can actually SEE with your own eyes. See where this is going yet? I admit that I do not remember a lot from my CCD and church days, but as I sat in church services with my in-laws this weekend, Easter weekend, and listened to the stories about Jesus rising from the dead... Well, I felt an overwhelming sense of disbelief. And do not get me started on the immaculate conception. (And let's ignore dinosaurs and evolution as well for now.) My brain cannot process this. I do not understand how anyone can believe these things. I have no faith.
This is not to say that I think people that go to church are dumb. I actually find myself kind of envious of the people that can believe in something without ever seeing it. With no evidence at all. These people have Faith. They just *know* something. They feel it in their bones. That is pretty darn amazing. I do not know what I believe anymore. I think I believe in a Higher Power, but I am not sure that it is this version that I read about in the bible so many years ago. Like I said, my brain just does not understand how religion and science are compatible at this point. And that might just be because science is all that I have been exposed to for the last...20 years?
I started thinking about what I would tell my son as he is getting older. What will his beliefs be? Of course, he will only be exposed to these things if we choose to expose him. I would very much like for him to make his own decisions about these things. Of course, that means that I have to educate myself. Again. And for the first time in some regard. I have decided that during our next trip to the library, along with books for my little man, I will be getting a book on religion. I am not sure what the title will be, maybe it will just be a bible. I have no idea. And it will likely take me months to finish it. But I want to start and I need to start somewhere. This will be a long journey, one that I will certainly struggle with.
If you have any suggestions for a skeptic, let me know.
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