Are You There God? It’s Me Superboy.

I do not believe in God.  It’s not a secret, and the fact that I work for a science-based institution and attend a Unitarian Church makes me feel like I am not alone in this world.  Most of my friends are not believers, nor is my father. My husband and my mother understand what I do and do not believe as well.  With this huge cushion of tolerance, I am often taken-a-back when Jesus is mentioned in an inaugural prayer or when families say grace at Taco Bell before a meal, or when my son’s “non-Catholic” Montessori school attached to a Catholic Church sends me information about HIS Glorious Resurrection.  My in-laws, too, are extremely religious and rather than having conversations with me about what I believe and how we are raising our son, they choose to ignore the fact that I don’t believe in God. This causes a lot of stress on holidays (for me anyway) and when they try to tell my son what to believe when I’m not around.  However for the most part, I try to live and let live.

One of the reasons we chose a Unitarian Church was so that our son would learn the stories of the Bible (and other sacred texts) with the freedom to question what is being taught. We want him to make up his own mind and develop his own beliefs while still feeling included in a church community.

With this in mind, it is rather difficult for me to hear things that my son picks up at his school. Did I mention that it is a “non-Catholic” Montessori school attached to a Catholic Church?  Guess what? There is no such thing. While one has the chance to opt out of the “Good Shepard” Catechism stuff, there is still Mass once a month and a  Catholic “nook” in the classroom for children to practice the rosary, etc. The school recognizes only Christian holidays, and it is my understanding that the Board of the School are all prominent Church members.  Finally (and the thing that bothers me the most) the geological time-line that the children learn from and work on includes God.  

I understand that my son might be too young to grasp the concept of God as anything other than “big man in sky who made stuff” but sometimes it gets to me, especially since we work so hard in his Sunday School class to offer all kinds of explanations of what or who God could be. 

Yesterday, I was reminded to calm down about it all, and just let him be six. We were in the car on the way to school.

My son asked, “Mom, how come nobody will make me into a Superhero?”

“Because there are no real superheroes out there honey.”

“But I ask God every night for super powers, and he never gives them to me. ”

“I’m sorry, Monkey.”

He says pouting, “All he gives me is the power to love.”

He’s wrong. If there is a God that grants wishes, he made my son Super Cute.

I’m Telling!

When one finds herself knocked up, one is immediately confronted with the immeasurable task of deciding who to tell, in what order, and when. It is truly an art that I admittedly am not very good at.  Because I am a person who generally likes to be open and honest with everybody, I am not used to keeping secrets. I am horrible at it. I want everyone to know my opinion, my past, my advice and/or what is going on with me, now!

When I was pregnant with my son, I couldn’t wait a day!  NOT ONE DAY. I called my friend Lynne right away. Then my husband and I were going to wait until we went to the doctor to tell our parents, but I couldn’t wait then either.  I told everyone immediately.  To some, it may have seemed like the longest pregnancy ever, because they knew about it from conception. I will never forget Jeff’s grandmother’s response when we told her, I think I was maybe 8 weeks along, and she said, “Well you can’t be so sure yet.”  Thanks Ruth! You are the sweetest.

So when I discovered that I was pregnant on December 1, I was again hit with the big question. Who do I tell, in what order, and when? This time it was not so easy. I am seven years older now. The chance for complications is a little bit greater. Also, Christmas was coming! What a great time to tell our parents! Could I wait until Christmas to tell everyone? That was the plan anyway, and again I failed miserably.

Of course, I told my husband right away. The next day I told Lynne. Then I was good for a while, but felt guilty that I hadn’t informed my other friend Megan yet, so I told her after a week. On December 12th, I told my other friends Claire and Lisa.  On the 15th, I told a random person at work.  I don’t know why, it just came out.  We told our son on the 18th, because my husband, who is WAY better at this than I, wanted to tell his best friend that night when they went out for drinks. He refused to tell anyone before he told our son. (Again, he is much better at this than me!) And finally on Christmas day, my parents and my husband’s parents and brother & sister-in-law were informed. On New Year’s Day, I told the one friend I was putting off telling, mostly because she is trying too and because I actually felt guilty about BEING pregnant before her.  All this activity before my first doctor’s appointment in January.

Not telling people at work has been the hardest. This is because, currently all I do at work is yawn. I am SO tired. Exhausted! I want to tell people, “Well in my delicate condition, I can’t help but be tired.” Then all would be forgiven. I might even be able to nap! People would perhaps bring me my very own cot! What bliss. What complicates things is that my boss is also a very good friend.  So I WANT to tell her, but don’t want to tell her.  I’ll tell her the day after my appointment, which is finally tomorrow. Wish me luck.  (Oh and Carin, if by some extremely odd chance that you are reading this before Tuesday, I’m sorry you had to find out this way!)