Church is Closed for the Holidays

At what point should a parent decide that maybe, just maybe, even if they themselves didn't go to church, should spend time explaining to their kids the meaning behind holidays and religion.

I recently had an epiphany that my son didn't magically know religious meanings behind holidays. As I grew up in a household where religion was prominent, even if my parents didn't directly teach me; the church did. Somehow, this translated in my brain that my knowledge would float into my sons head without me actually telling him.

Easter 2011 I decided to spend time with my parents as my aunt from out of state was visiting. In the couple of days I was there I made a cake out of candy, came across a man who thought he was sheriff of a dirt road, tried to find a long lost cat and tried to play food trickeries on my mom while she was out of her mind making sure everything was perfect for guests. (helpful hint to others who do this - don't do it)

While my sister and I were busy in the kitchen making our 'Easter cake' (that nobody ate), I hear rumblings going on in the living room between my parents, son and aunt. The large debate was whether we would go to the early church service at 7:30 or the late service at 10:30. As my dad was the only one who wanted to go early, and he is stubborn, this conversation went back and forth for awhile. Dad really had no good reason for continuing to want to go early other than what I believe to be as he is now older, and the older you get, the earlier you wake up. Since I generally wake up around 6:30 on the weekends and I am in my 30's, I can only guess Dad now wakes up at 4:30 as my theory is it is an hour earlier each decade. No wonder he wanted to go early - it's his bedtime by the time the later service gets done.

I notice there is a break in conversation and I hear my son speak up with his wisdom, I don't know why we are talking about this, there probably is no church tomorrow, its a holiday. As funny as I thought this was, my mother was horrified, she began yelling at me to get the bible and take him to church immediately. I'm surprised she didn't find some holy water to throw on him. As my mother began her speech about Easter being a religious holiday and this is WHY we go to church on Easter, my son then through in more wisdom, well banks are closed on Sunday, I figure church should be. Oh goodness!

So tell me how my knowledge didn't float into his head all of these years without my telling him? How would kids know about the link between certain holidays and religion if we don't teach them? Should we expose our kids for this one benefit if we ourselves are not actively religious?

Easter is the one holiday my teenage son still looks forward to so he can do an Easter Egg hunt. He has no shame. Did he really think Easter was created by a bunny who hid eggs that fell out of his butt? Bunnies don't even lay eggs, the joke is on him. And speaking of that, how did bunnies and eggs get placed together? Why isn't a large chicken the Easter staple? I can picture it now; parents dressed up as a chicken squatting in the yard laying eggs.

Let's just say if that happens, church is closed for the holiday, at least in my house, because that is a spectacle I want to see.

Conversations with Myself

Am I the only one who talks to themselves? And by talking to myself, I mean ALL the time. I don't even notice I am doing it until I'm in public talking to fruit about how yummy they are and I start to get the look. If you're crazy like me, you know the look. A man or woman (maybe both) slowly tilting their head towards you trying very hard not to make eye contact as fear they may catch what I have. What is it I have? Is it insanity or the love of my own voice?

I like to think its the latter even though I hate the sound of my voice. I just like to talk. I like to talk so much that I am guilty of never letting anyone else talk. What is that you say?!? Oh, who cares, you want ME to talk? Very well. That is what I hear any time I am in a conversation with someone. So I do, I take their advice they didn't give and I talk. Over them, under them, beside them and then some.

Why do I like to talk so much? I like to think I amuse myself and other people are boring. Oh, c'mon- they are. You know they are. For example, when I talk - people laugh; and not that kind little polite laugh, I am talking tears down the eyes, pee in the pants kind of laugh. You know the one. (just admit it, you sometimes pee your pants). Who doesn't really? Babies do it, people with bladder problems do it, mothers do it and old people. So who does that exclude really? People with no bladders, thats who.

Sometimes I fear my incessant talking is a form of tourettes. Although I don't have sudden outbursts of profranity, I do offend people quite often and am not censored. Isn't that what people with Tourettes do? They offend people. They do! If you were standing in line and behind you someone yelled "big, ugly, yellowbutt donkey" you would be offended. I am not less offended when I find out they have Tourettes. I am more offended because why are they yelling at me? Carry a mirror around and when you have an outburst, hold it up and look at yourself. Now, Im not offended as they were not talking to me. And on a side note, it would be a great way to get those daily affirtmations in.

So next time you see me in a store saying "nom, nom, nom" to the fruit, just pull up beside me and join in, and when you do, I will hold up a mirror and say "Big Ugly Yellowbutt Donkey."

Lesbians for Dummies

My work relationship with my boss is not the most appropriate. Not that I am going to take any fault for this. On a daily basis I remind her that she is inappropriate as is her behavior, to which I get giggles and inappropriate comments back. So life at the workplace goes on. As our department ever so dwindles down to nothing (as to my liking) our department as a whole has become quite inappropriate as consumed with all women.

We are all educated, mature women- not that you would guess this having a conversation with us lately. As we all gather into my bosses office for our daily story telling time (which is usually me telling some absurd story) this one happened to be of a wedding I was in and this unusual woman from Alaska who had a southern accent. Why did she have an accent if she was born and raised in AK? Was she from the southern part of AK? I was perplexed by this. And so the discussion ensued. I became so obsessed with this I said "I think she thought I was a lesbian."

Later that evening as I was e-mailing my boss I get an e-mail back saying "no more lesbian comments, I think X employee is a lesbian." To which I replied "Did I make one?" This shows my awareness at work. The next morning sitting in my bosses office she explains to me the ridiculous reasons she thinks X employee is a lesbian.

• When she smelled my perfume she smelled my neck and not my wrist
• She is a roller derby girl
• She has short hair
• She is unmarried and has a dog

Wow. Isn't SHE full of herself!?! So apparently if you are over a certain age threshold, single, have a tolerance for dogs, possibly got gum stuck in your hair and had to cut it, and like to roller skate due to a nice child hood memory - WATCH OUT- you are a lesbian! Thank goodness I never liked short hair on me.

Our days have now become filled with a lesbian version of 'wheres waldo'. Who can get the lesbian out of the closet first. Does she like pink or blue. Purposely bringing up "partners." Standing maybe a little "too" close to see if she seems uncomfortable. I think I actually noticed my boss unbutton her shirt a little in a meeting the other day.

Is this what my days have come to? I don't even think she IS a lesbian. And if she is, who cares? By the end of this torture I might be a lesbian. Isn't there a book for dummies I can just pick up?

Eminem - Call me "Ball- Sac"

A week ago when I was in Best Buy with my son, I didn't realize buying him a CD he asked for would create a sense of unbalance in my life over one line of lyric in a song.

What started as a beautiful early morning drive to my hometown to celebrate my sisters 30th birthday quickly turned to well, 'something else'. Let me back up one step further.

"Can we listen to my new CD" my son asked. "Sure" (as I rolled my eyes). As I hesitantly slid the CD into the player not even five miles from the house the car filled with a heavy beat of base and I started to hear Eminem begin to rap. To my surprise I wasn't as annoyed by this as I thought I would be. This wasn't so bad. Why had I been dreading listening to this? My reassurance quickly turned to shock as Eminem soon demanded I call him Ball-Sac. WHAT?!? Did I hear that correctly? I turned to my boyfriend, "did he just tell us to call him Ball-Sac"? "Yes, he did", he replied. I looked at my son in my rear-view mirror, "Did he just tell me to call him Ball-Sac"?!? "Yep" he so confidently replied with an amused look on his face like I should start calling him Ball-Sac!

What was going on? Was this some new thing? Were we now calling males Ball-Sac? Did I miss some kind of memo? And why was this amusing? This is disgusting! I wasn't being asked to be called Vagina. Why was I the only one shocked by this? And what else was in this song?!? I asked my child "just what about this appeals to you" to which he so smartly replied "well, nothing in this one, turn it to another song". Oh okay.

Apparently, in his other songs I'm not being told to call him gross slang body parts. He's just telling me about shoot'em up gangsters, drug deals and whores. Thanks Ball-Sac.