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pain in the ash

The mother-in-law picked the baby up from school on Wednesday, and when we got to her house to pick him up, I noticed a smudge on his forehead. The mother-in-law had indeed taken him to Ash Wednesday services and had indeed asked the priest to “bless” the baby and, according to her, he just happened to bless him with his ash thumb.

Now, she’s pulled this subversive Catholicisim stuff before and I don’t appreciate it. Because while I’m not against the baby practicing some sort of religion, I really don’t want anyone besides me or the husband dishing it out with him. I don’t want him getting the idea that Catholicism, or any religion, is superior to any other, which is what I’m pretty sure will happen if I put his religious education in the hands of the mother-in-law. I say that because when we griped at her for the ashes, she snotted that it’s not like they were off doing witchcraft or weird rituals.

And, like…ugh. Dude. Just because you grew up with them and you happen to live in a country where Catholicism is mainstream, doesn’t mean that you’re not doing rituals and that they wouldn’t be perceived as weird to other cultures. I mean, doesn’t one of the main rituals involve eating the body and blood of Christ? Plus there’s chanting and incense and bells and dudes in robes. Shit. Put that outside on a solstice and add some topless bitches. THEN tell me how it’s not like witchcraft.

Anyway, Bolt asked the mother-in-law about this and the mother-in-law told her what she also told us, which is that we all used to go to church and loved it. And we should be repentant for our sins. God, back off lady. And then she added that when we discovered this thing called independent thought, we would surely return to the church.

Quoi? I mean, not to say that all practicing Catholics or whatever are devoid of independent thought, but, uh, my independent thought is what led me to peace out from the church quite some time ago.

But, seriously, if I’m doing my thing and being a good person and Catholics are doing their thing and being good people, can’t we all just get along leave each other the hell alone?

Anyway, I was thinking about the upcoming presidential election yesterday. I don’t know, it seems to be the hip, in thing to do these days. Also, this piece on Jezebel got me thinking, because I do think it’s bullshit that women’s tendency to cry more than men is perceived as a sign of weakness. I think it was Wanda Sykes who said that God made women the weaker sex because otherwise we would just go around beating the shit out of people.

I mean, I cry when I’m sad or devastated obviously, but I also cry when I’m angry and it’s so annoying. I wish I could stop because I think it gives the objects of my anger an opportunity to be like, “Oh, whatever, she’s not THAT angry.” And it’s like, “No, I AM, motherfucker. I just can’t box for shit and I’m furious and everything’s starting to, like, SEEP or something. Here, why don’t you just choke yourself with my hand and we’ll call it even. Cool?.”

But, yeah, the presidential election. Folks are grasping onto the two times that Hilary has managed to hint at crying and prove that this is why a woman can’t handle being president. Fuck that. Hilary is just as self-serving and psychotically ambitious and centrist-serving as any other person that makes a serious run for president…which is what makes her campaign and Obama’s campaign such a drag. I got to thinking about how I cry often about the state of the world. I mean, it just fucking bums me out, you know? I can’t imagine if I was the president and had access to ALL of the information of just how fucked we are…I would be splattered on the sidewalk outside of a tall building about 15 minutes into my administration.

3 comments to pain in the ash

  • Wow. Your MIL is pushier about religion than my sister, and she’s a born again Mormon.

    I cry when I have any intense emotion – anger, frustration, happiness, sadness, embarassment, indignation… it really pisses me off how overactive my tear ducts are.

  • dude, it’s so annoying because my MIL isn’t even that bad about it normally. She’ll go months without saying anything about it and then all of a sudden she’s on our case. I think the church gives her an annual quota.

  • My mil makes it her biz to call me every Saturday afternoon to see if she can pick my boys up and take them to Sunday school because I am a horrible mother who won’t take my children to worship. She leaves off the part about me being a horrible mother, but I know she thinks it in her head. I allow her to take them, because that is 2 hours I can blow by myself! I can be found at the Starbucks in Sewickley heckling the rich in my sweatpants.
    Also. I cry at the drop of a hat. Happy? Tears. Sad? Tears. Hungry? I’ve been known to shed a tear or two for food. It sucks. I am used to it.

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