Have I mentioned that I love getting comments?  I do.  I love, love, love them.  And you would think I would try to do a better job of answering them so people would be encouraged to write more.  As hard as it may be to believe it, I am actually pretty shy.  My palms get sweaty when I email people I don’t know.  I read and re-read my emails wondering if I sound like a dummy.  If I write to someone and they don’t write back, then I wonder if they thought I am more of a loser via email than I am on the blog.  Oh, the email anxiety!  (And now I am worrying that this entire paragraph may actually be TMI, but on we go anyway.)

There are other times that comments make me think of another whole post I could write.  Like this comment by Michelle from my recent post about my mom wanting to take M to church. 

Shouldn’t it be M’s decision? What wrong could come out of going to church a few hours per week? However, only good things could come out. If you are an atheist, it does not mean that your daughter has to be the same. Would you be angry with your daughters if one day they decide that they are Christians?

I think you’re projecting your own atheist mentality onto them without not seeing both sides of the story. What you believe now might not be what you will believe later, and certainly might not be what your children will believe.

This comment left me scratching my head.  I mean, M is only FIVE years old.  I make decisions for her all day long.  Why should church be any different?   

When M and L are old enough to make their own decisions, they will be free to go to church or temple or whatever they choose.   Heck, I will even let them be Republicans if it floats their boat.   But I am not going to send them to Young Republican camp just in case they may have those beliefs later.

Childhood is the time where their father and I will have the opportunity to share OUR values and OUR beliefs with them.  It is our perogative as their parents. 

My mom RARELY took my sister and me to church.  She missed her chance to share her beliefs with me.  She doesn’t get a do-over with my kids as a way of trying to fix her mistake.  This isn’t to say she can’t share her beliefs with our kids.  She can.  She can talk to them about it as much as she wants, as long as she is respectful of Mr. A and my beliefs. 

But we will not allow her to take our kids to learn OTHER people’s beliefs without knowing what our children are being taught.  I don’t know what the sunday school teachers teach there, or what the minister preaches.  I don’t have the time or the inclination to go find out.  Mr. A went to the Christmas play to see if he was comfortable with this specific church’s teachings.  After that, he decided he *wasn’t* comfortable with the girls going there.  I won’t send them to a church that may (or may not) tell them their parents and family members and friends are going to hell.  I am not willing to spend my sundays policing the messages that the girls receive from strangers. 

What wrong could come out of M going to church a few hours a week?  Well, *I* used to go to church every week with my grandparents.  And one week, the minister’s wife took it upon herself to show my 9 year-old self pictures of aborted fetuses and told us how abortion doctors would go to hell and how abortion is murder.

These statements were totally against this denomination’s official stance on abortion.  I also do not think they were statements that my parents would have supported.  But my parents weren’t at church, so I didn’t know how they felt about what I was learning there.

I was horrified and had nightmares for years after that day.  I was strongly against abortion based on that one conversation. 

Until I grew up, started thinking for myself and decided that woman was a jerk who was taking advantage of impressionable little kids.   I also decided I didn’t believe in a God who was not compassionate for women and families in crisis*. 

And I got a job at an abortion clinic.  I am very proud of that choice.  

Funny how things work out, isn’t it?  

Will I be angry if my children grow up and choose to be Christians?  Of course not.  My husband is Christian.  I have lots of Christian friends.  Most of my extended family is Christian.  I like most of them.  Heck, I even worked in Christian churches in my last job and I have tons of respect for the people I met and they work they do.

I will not be angry if my children grow up and choose to be Christian, but I will be greatly disappointed if my children grow up and don’t feel compassion for people in difficult circumstances.  I will be sad if they can’t love and accept people who are different from them.  I will be sad if they don’t grow up to be kind and loving with open hearts.

Could they learn these things in church?  Maybe.  Hopefully.  But the wouldn’t learn it in every church. 

They hope they will learn it from me.  If that is what my “mentality” teaches them, I will die a proud and happy mother.

*And does that mean I don’t believe in God? No.  That athiest label was not mine.  I only said I wasn’t a Christian.

In no particular order, things that have been happening around here lately:

-We gave L the boot from our bedroom.  Yesterday morning, she woke me up 57 too many times after I had gone to bed very, very late.  I had begun to suspect that my proximity to her (her twin bed pushed up against my side of our bed) was actually encouraging her to wake up rather than sleep through the night.  Actually, it may have been more than my personal proximity.  It may have been that our bed is much much more comfortable because it has a tempurpedic mattress pad and her bed is hecka uncomfortable.  As a result, she was constantly stealing my spot and leaving me to sleep in the twin.  As of yesterday, we moved her twin into M’s room (now known as M’s old room, L and M’s new room, or as I said repeatedly yesterday and today: the room with TWO! BIG! GIRL! BEDS! YAY!!! CLAP!! CLAP!!)  So far, so good.  Who knows, maybe one of these days I will even get to get lucky on my tempurpedic mattress instead of the fold-out couch.  A girl can dream, cant’ she?

-I have concocted a new scheme that requires us to sell our house and live in a much crappier house for several years.  On some level, I think I can not bear to live in this house now that it is all fixed up and ready to sell.  My theory is we should sell, buy a new crappy house in the neighborhood (3 blocks over) we want to live in FOREVER, then when we have enough dough in 4-5 years, do a full-gut renovation and add an addition to double the size of the imaginary house.  I have already had my hopes dashed on two different houses: one was already in contract, the other is apparently full of exposed asbestos.  It would actually make the most sense to wait until spring to move forward with this plan, but I can’t stop obsessively searching browsing the MLS listing.  I am aware this scheme is a bit wacky.   I lived through my parents building a house when I was in high school.  That was when I witnessed the biggest argument in the history of their entire relationship, which was about bathroom fixures.  And seriously, do you think that my dad gave a rat’s ass about bathroom fixtures?  Building/remodeling can make people crazy.  You would think I would know better.

-Did I mention that we are going on vacation with my parents, sister and niece in a few weeks?  Given the recent tensions over the church thing, this may be the perfect setting for a lovely knock-down drag out argument.  It might end up being like high school all over again.

-Mr. A just walked in the door from work at 11:42 pm, so I am going to go visit with him for a few minutes before bed.  They seriously do not pay him enough to work such insane hours. 

It was almost one year ago to the day that my mom and I had a big blow-out fight (which I apparently barely blogged) about me not wanting her to read the “Jesus book” to M.  

And it seems like only yesterday that Mr. A and I had a big debate about the kids and church.  Actually, that particular argument started about 7 months ago.   

Lucky me, it seems like it is time for us to revisit this annoying topic yet again.

Apparently, now after 50 years, my mom seems to have found religion.   She has started going to church every week.  This is no big deal to me.  If she gets something out of it, good for her. 

Unfortunately, she seems to also have decided it is important for her to expose my heathenish children to church.  She has asked if M could go to church with her TWICE in the last two weeks. 

The first time, I said Mr. A was working Sunday afternoon so we wanted to have family time in the morning.  I also mentioned that church was something that Mr. A and I would have to discuss together before I could let M go.  This was A) true and B) a very polite way of letting her know that I was not enthusiastic.  Then, she called again this saturday and asked if M could go on Sunday.  Again, I brushed her off by saying that Mr. A and I had not discussed it yet.

Before she started going to church regularly, my mom asked me if there was a church we would be comfortable letting her take M to.   I did some research and told her if she wanted to take our girls to a United Methodist church, we would be ok with that.  I don’t agree with everything they believe but they are pretty low-key.  The church my sister and I sporadically attended with my grandparents (and very occasionally my mother) was Methodist so it wasn’t like I was asking her to go to the Unitarian Devil worshippers or something.  (For the record, we would also be OK with the United Church of Christ, the Unitarian church, or many of the other LIBERAL protestant mainline churches–the kind that might have clergy as member of RCRC.). 

The church my mom has chosen is not a Methodist church.  It is an evangelical megachurch.  Who knows what the hell they believe because the “what we believe” page of their website is less than a page long.

Today, Mr. A and I discussed it. 

Mr. A doesn’t want M attending the church my mom has chosen.  He was really bothered by the Christmas play that included the crucifixion (inappropriate for a 4 year old and also not particularly relevant to the Christmas story) and also had some part that was weird and tokenish (if not outright racist) with a bunch of Asian kids dressed in kimonos clothing singing about Jesus with a Chinese face.  Mr. A also has strong beliefs about which Christian doctrine(s?) he feels are the most valid.  He doesn’t want strangers teaching our kids things he doesn’t believe.  He also doesn’t want to have to attend this church to monitor what the girls are learning.

 I don’t really want M to go to church because I am not a Christian, I am uncomfortable with the specific church my mother has chosen, and I think it is my perogative as a parent to decide what religious instruction our kids receive (or don’t receive for that matter). 

It would be easiest if my mom would take the hint and stop asking to take M to church.

Unfortunately, it looks like she is going to keep asking, which means we are going to have to say no. 

If we say now, there is going to be a big, blow-out fight between me and my mom. 

I am really not looking forward to that at all.

If I do say so myself, I am totally kicking ass at the not shopping thing. 

We are 25 days into June and I think I have spent less than $25 on frivolities.  And most of that was cheating with cheap take-out last week when I was going crazy because Mr. A was working so much overtime.   Oh, and I also bought a really deeply discounted set of sheets for about $28 because Mr. A’s hair product has yellowed all our pillowcases and they are grossing me out.   But over all, I am doing a good job not shopping.

Possibly, I need to stop talking about my cheapness though.  Because other people are starting to egg me on in my thriftyness.  Possibly to a slightly wacky degree.

First thing this morning, my sister called.  She wanted to let me know she read in the newspaper that Chipotle was giving away free burritos between 5:00 and 8:00.  I thanked her for the info and didn’t think about it again.  I don’t mind Chipotle.  I eat it occasionally because it is closer to our house and more convenient than any other burrito place.  But it is kind of pricy for a burrito that is only so-so.

Then, Mr. A called to tell me about the free burritos.  Mr. A sounded REALLY excited about the free burritos.  He kept saying “They’re free!  It’s FREE BURRITOS! Don’t you want to eat FREE BURRITOS?!” 

Mr. A loves burritos in all shapes, sizes and styles.  (And yes, they all give him digestive issues.)   He has also been humoring me (at least I *think* he has been humoring me) by taking his lunch this month and not buying much (though he did cheat a little by getting his bike tuned up). 

I figured, what the heck?  What else were the girls and I doing at 5:00?  We could stand in line or I could cook dinner.  Honestly, standing in line seemed a little more appealing, so I said we would swing by and pick them up.

Mr. A was so excited he called me TWICE to make sure I was on board and was clear about his order.  He was especially concerned that I might forget to buy his precious chips and salsa.  I was reluctant because chips and salsa were not included in the FREE BURRITO deal.  But Mr. A was insistant.  He needed chips and salsa, damn the $1.25 they would cost.

At around 4:00, when the girls and I were at a park in the vacinity of Chipotle, it started raining.  Actually, it was a downpour of almost biblical proportions.   I thought this would deter a lot of free-burrito seekers.  When the rain let up around 4:30, I was sure we would get a great spot in line. 

Oh, how I underestimated my fellow Midwesterner’s love of A) Burritos and B)Free Things.

When we got to Chipotle at 4:45, there was a line down the side of the building and around part of the parking lot.  When we got in line, I estimate there were maybe 150 to 200 people in front of us.  Within five minutes, the line behind us was at least as long as the line in front of us.

We could see some storm clouds off in the distance, but I told the girls we were going to stick it out for the free burritos.  It was going to be a Burrito Adventure.

At around 5:00, it started to rain.   At about 5:02, it started to pour.  And lightning.  And thunder.  Did I mention we didn’t have an umbrella?   To my disappointment, no one left the line in front of us because of the rain. 

We were all there together.  Burrito warriors.  Toughing it out for the carnitas. 

At first, M meeped a little about the thunder.  But once I gave her some pretzels and cashews, she started to enjoy standing in the rain.  L had a great time splashing in the ankle-deep puddles.  We were all completely soaked from head to toe, but we soldiered on.  Fortunately, it was not cold, so the suffering was not too extreme.

My sister, who was still stuck at work, called repeatedly to find out how many people were in line.  In a revealing demonstration of her lack of thriftyness and intestinal fortitute, she wussed out and went home with no burritos.

At around 6:07, a mere 1 hour and 22 minutes after we got in line, we finally made it into Chipotle.  We got our three burritos (one for each girl and one for me) and Mr. A’s precious bag of chips.  As we were leaving the restaurant, the last of the rain sprinkled down and the sun started poking through the clouds.

We brought our booty home to a very-thrilled Mr. A, who not only got to eat a burrito for dinner, but also has one left over to take tomorrow for lunch.  (The girls don’t really like restaurant burritos, so they ate eggs and bacon for dinner.)

Standing in the pouring rain for an hour to get a free burrito may actually be one of the stranger things I have done lately.  Maybe it will one of those stories that M tells about her crazy-cheap mother in years to come.  It wouldn’t be the worst story she could tell.  All-in-all, for a satisfied husband and a funny story, it was worth the wait.

About a month ago, M got a letter inviting her to join a “Sticker Club”.  Basically, stickers club is nothing but a glorified chain letter.  M was asked to send a Sticker Club invitation to six of her friends and to send one pack of stickers to the first person on the enclosed list of two names.   Then, M was supposed to add her name to the list.  When her six friends sent Sticker Club invitations to six friends, M would theoretically receive 36 packs of stickers in the mail.

When I saw the Sticker Club invitatation, I groaned.  But M loves, loves, LOVES mail, so I dutifully helped her copy the letter and send it to six friends (Whose parents were, I imagine, as unthrilled as I was to be invited.)  Before we sent out our six letters, I warned M that she was unlikely to receive 36 packs of stickers because the whole thing was such a hassle.

So far, M has received one pack of stickers.

While it might sound like that is a disappointing return on our efforts, M was thrilled.  The day she got them, she spend the day carrying them around, making plans about where exactly she would stick them and protecting them from L’s greedy little hands.

That evening, she was examining her stickers when she said: “Hey Mama!  We should start a money club!” 

I didn’t get what she was talking about, so I asked her to explain.

“You know, we send letters and ask people to send us DOLLARS instead of STICKERS! It would be amazing! I would be rich!”

I had to explain to her that someone already thought of Money Club and it is illegal.  

But good for her for taking some initiative to hustle for the dough. 

Maybe next week, she will re-invent Amway.