Wednesday, May 23, 2007

The TMI Files. A (Not Quite) Holy Trinity.

Magilla and I had a bit of a discussion this evening about where babies come from, which took the usual meandering path through dangerous territory.

There was an item on the tv about identical twin babies who, due to complications, were born too early and subsequently remained in hospital with tubes in their noses.

One in particular was very ill, and it was thought that he might die, but he didn't.

Because the smaller twin was tiny, I got the polaroid of Magilla off the wall and we looked at it for comparative purposes. She is 4 minutes old in the photo and still has the umbilical cord attached, and is crying, as you would expect. She is a caesar baby, and we looked at the scar where the doctor cut me to take her out.

Magilla says, "I should have come out your fanny*."

I replied, "Well, you were supposed to but you wouldn't. I think you were having too much fun so the doctor had to go in and get you."

Then she asked if Daddy made her with me, to which the obvious answer is yes.

So far so good.

Then came the classic: Did Jesus get my parts out of a box for you?

Hmmmm. How to answer that one?

That took us to how I had Jesus helping me make her while I ate properly and looked after myself.He made sure that I could do it properly.

And trying to explain how the umbilical cord works to a four year old is an exercise in mental gymnastics!

I managed to make it past that hurdle, and we got onto names.

Magilla's middle name is Grace, and she wanted to know why.

I told her that Grace is something that comes from God, and as far as I am concerned, she came from God too.

My middle name is not Grace, although apparently it should be. :)

My middle name being nothing out of the ordinary, I then said that I had another name, too. A confirmation name.

My confirmation name is Therese, and again, trying to explain the concept of Holy Communion in the Catholic Rite, and then Confirmation was a bit much for me.

Much laughter and confusion ensued.

It got really interesting when we got to being confirmed, and where you have to stand up in church and say how you believe in God and Jesus, and you disavow Satan.

Magilla: "Who is Satan?"

Me: "Satan is bad, he doesn't like God and does bad things." (Not exactly the theologian, am I? It's so much easier explaining to adults!)

Magilla: "I think I'll shoot him. He's a bad man."

Me: "I think what we'll do is leave that up to God. We just have to make sure we don't listen to him, and God can sort him."

Magilla: "How about we bomb him? Or I'll punch him with this!" (Indicates a small fist.)

Me: "Um, I don't think we want to bomb Satan. We probably won't actually see him." (Racks brains trying to find a way to change the course of the conversation.)

Magilla: "Okay, I'll just shoot him then."

Sees a new article on the television.

Magilla:"That's John Howard. He's a good man."

Me: "Yes, he is."

Magilla: "He's good like God and Jesus, isn't he?"

Me: "I think he's a good man, and does a good job, but he's not quite on their level."

Luckily for me, that pretty much ended the lesson. Rock on sunday school, where someone a lot more enlightened in the ways of educating little tackers in the minutae of christianity can explain it all properly.

I think the timing of this tonight was also quite propitious, seeing as over at Slaying Dragons (blogroll at right, too lazy to link tonight!), W.E. has linked to this:

*nb for American readers: fanny in Australia does not mean what it does in North America.

Friday, May 18, 2007


With tongue firmly planted in cheek, I've been known to comment that the indoctrination of Magilla is proceeding apace.

This is because she loves going to church, is happy to discuss Jesus with me, and likes to pray to Him.

My favourite vignette at the moment is from a couple of weeks ago when we were on the way to church. We'd exited the house, and there was a light rain falling.

Magilla stood in the rain, looked up and said, "It's raining, oh, thank you, Jesus! Thank you, thank you for the lovely rain."

Since we are in a drought here in Oz, and our water catchments are incredibly low at the moment, there's a lot of praying for rain going on.

Now to compare this with what goes on in other creeds:

There's been a lot in the news recently about Hamas' Mickey Mouse ripoff and what it's teaching children.

The usual things like killing jews, jihad and allah uber alles, you get the drill.

There has also been a bit of uproar about it, and the sort of lessons imparted to children over in the middle east have often been branded child abuse.

I tend to agree with this, as I find it totally abhorrent that someone can teach their child that killing is more than acceptable - it is essential to their spiritual growth and wellbeing.

There are, however, people here in Oz who agree with the Hamas rodent's message:
Hi, what’s everyone’s reaction to the Hamas Mickey Mouse thing? There was a huge fuss in the media about it, most people were outraged, but personally I don’t see much difference between the Hamas Mickey Mouse and GI Joe.

thats right.. its ok for the israelis and americans to glorify war and encourage the youth to fight through their media.. but not ok for muslims to encourage their youth to eventually defend themselves?


of course kids should drink their milk..

of course they should grow up, with the intention of establishing an islamic state. even if it means that they need to free their lands from oppression with ak-47's... its their right to resist..

may all my children die in the path of ALLAH swt, whether its by doing dawah or by physically taking up arms to free people from oppression..

providing they fight in a halal and honorable way (which means not suicide bombing or intentionally killing civilians) then i see no problems with it..

malcolm x said it perfectly mashaALLAH.. may ALLAH grant him the reward of a martyr inshaALLAH

There's nothing in our book, the Quran -- you call it "Ko-ran" -- that teaches us to suffer peacefully. Our religion teaches us to be intelligent. Be peaceful, be courteous, obey the law, respect everyone; but if someone puts his hand on you, send him to the cemetery. That's a good religion. In fact, that's that old-time religion. That's the one that Ma and Pa used to talk about: an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, and a head for a head, and a life for a life: That's a good religion. And doesn't nobody resent that kind of religion being taught but a wolf, who intends to make you his meal.

Times like this I wonder that we've ever managed to have any peace at all in our lives.

How long this hiatus lasts is anyone's guess.

Tiberius says we should bring on the civil war, and I read things like this and wonder if he's on to something.

Then again, I should probably just shut up and take more diversity training.


Sunday, May 13, 2007

A New Regime At The Seminary.

Found at the Curt Jester via Purcell's Chicken Voluntary in the blogroll.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

The TMI Files. Motherload.

While I like to deal with personal stuff in the TMI Files, there are some places I prefer not to go. Like Magilla's other parent. She does actually have a dad, and she has an excellent relationship with his side, which is as it should be.

However, she has always lived with me. She does spend time away from me. Again, this is for her rather than for me. I'm happy with her away one night of the week, as that is the current routine, but sometimes she does spend longer.

By the second night, I start to feel the pangs of separation. I know that she feels them too, because I get extra cuddles and lots of huge smiles and she chatters away even more than usual.

Tonight she came home after a couple of nights away, and brought home a nasty headcold. I think she caught the one that's been giving me the gyp for the last few days.

Since she was near enough to asleep as made no difference, we put her into my bed. It was nearer, and it would save her waking up in the middle of the night and crawling in with me anyway.

In any case, it's not like she's kicking anyone off the other side of the bed.

So I lay down with her and snuggled up while she woke up enough to tell me about her trip down the beach, and visiting with Nana and Pa, and cousins and the rest, and I got to thinking about myself as mother and the feelings I get when I think about my girl.

Years and years ago, I had various girlfriends with children tell me the same thing in different words.

You will fall in love for real for the first time in your life.

You will begin the greatest love affair you will ever know.

You will know complete unconditional love.

Your life will change forever.

Your life will start over.

You won't know yourself.

All variations on a theme, and all of them completely true.

I was never going to have children. Not that I didn't want them, just that I didn't see my having them.

Obviously, something changed somewhere, and Magilla is almost five.

Sometimes, when we snuggle under the covers, sing songs or just joke around, the love I feel for her overwhelms me and my eyes start to water. Not enough for me to cry, but close enough for me to feel like I want to.

I feel her body cuddling in close, and I never want her to grow out of the stage she's at. (Of course, all parents think that, and we think it at every stage our kids go through. And every stage is better than the last.)

When she was first born, and laid at my breast, I was still groggy from the anaesthetic. I looked at her, and while I felt a tear leak out, I didn't feel much of anything.

Thank God for drugs and caesarians, is all I can say to that.

Afterwards, I felt a bit more, and a bit more, and the feelings, the bonding, grew until it became almost unbearable.

I would look at her, my funny little new human, and marvel at what came out from my body.

Sometimes I would try and find myself in her, or her father in her, and see my father, for example.

Or I would look at her until she seemed to be an alien. I studied her so intently that I would forget she was "just" a baby.

And then there would be the times when I would feel a fierce, protective, passionate love which frightened me.

The passion you feel for your baby is very scary. It's unexpected; particularly when in our society we tend to attribute such passion (and I do use this word deliberately), to the men or women in our lives.

We can talk about the protective instinct, or discuss how getting in the way of a parent and a child is a truly stupid thing to do, but the reality of it is something else again.

I read up on parenting styles, early childhood development, sociological studies into likely outcomes for children based on role modelling. You name it, I've probably looked into it.

I've made decisions that near everyone around me has disagreed with, but I stood my ground. I made them with an eye to Magilla 10, 15, 20 years down the track.

People would ride me about a particular choice made, but as I pointed out to them - it's not for me.

My job as a parent is to raise a successful member of our society.

It's not about me doing what everyone else thinks I should. It's about what is best for her.

Believe me, if it was all about me, I'd have been out of the country years ago. I have no idea exactly what I'd be doing, but it certainly wouldn't be living in penury and about to enter 'family mediation.'

But back to Magilla.

I carry the same guilt every other parent does:

Am I too strict, too lax, too disrespectful?
Do I feed her enough/properly?
Do we have the tv on too much or should I just turf it?
Is Dodgeball really appropriate for a four year old?
IS my disciplining suitable?

The usual things. Every parent who reads this will be nodding their head, I'll wager.

How do I respond when she tells me she's not my friend or I'm not her friend anymore?

Actually, that's an easy one.

I just tell her that's okay, I don't have to be friends with her because I'm her mum, and that's the important thing. She has other friends.

Same thing when she tells me she doesn't like me.

From what I've seen, all parents seem to hear that at least once in their parenting lives!

Again, it's not about the now, which is where children tend to live, but about the future.

Next year, she is starting school. I've already enrolled her. Not at my first preference of the local Christian school, primarily because of financial reasons, but at one of the local state school.

I'm reassured with this school, because my sister's daughter started there last year, so Magilla will have a cousin in the school.

I've spent time there, and there was an open night last week which the other side also got to come along and check out.

I have never seen a child so ready for schooling. She's been ready for nearly two years, but due to the education laws, no school would take her this year.

There are now age-specific enrolment regulations.

I am excited about her starting school, but it's also nerve-wracking - I'm jobhunting at the moment, and the idea of leaving her in before and after school care while I'm travelling to and from work is unsettling.

She won't have a problem, of course.

My girl is supremely confident and secure in herself. She is forthright, and outgoing, and exudes charm and charisma.

I can say this because I'm her mother and it's expected of me.

Mind you, I do worry that she might be over-confident. If she is, she will get a rude wakeup at school, but I will have to let her deal with that.

So long as she's got that initial core of self-confidence.

She knows who she is, she knows that she is well-loved on all sides of the family and she knows she's going to school next year.

And tomorrow at church, she's going to be a butterfly.

It's all good.