Embracing my Inner Homemaker

Who am I?  My codependent upbringing handed me an identity that I never questioned.  Until now.  I'm an American Catholic wife and mother. But what does that mean to me on a daily basis?  This is what I will attempt to uncover.

To me, "American" means the sky's the limit.  Yes, there are cultural traditions, but I do not feel compelled to be bound by them.  Since the United States is not a monolithic society, there are at least four types (if you will) of cultures that are part and parcel of the history of US culture.  First of all, that of the various Native American tribes, which sadly remains mostly in the names of various places, both natural and man-made, and very little else.  Second, that of the African American slaves, which have had a significant impact on modern-day American culture, starting with music and food, and more recently (relatively speaking), media and sports.  Third, that of the original European settlers, which brought with it the language and religious traditions, as well as various socio-political norms that our country is based on.  Fourth, that of the vast diversity of more recent immigrants from literally around the world.  I cannot possibly fit into a single paragraph the myriad of ways that cultures vastly different from each other have mixed and mingled to form the modern day norms of the United States.  Essentially, though, what resulted is a wide range of "normal", with a strong emphasis on the choices of the individual to pick and choose what resonates with them and run with it. 

"Catholic" literally means "universal", which is actually a lovely segway from national to religious identity.  It's a way of being a Christ-follower, which is what being Catholic means to me; that I aspire to center my life on Christ.  I believe the Catholic Church has the closest interpretation of Jesus's message available to us, and I love many things about it: the authority with which it teaches on matters of faith and morals; the traditions of beautiful art and music; the social outreach it is known for (hospitals and schools in particular).  I also love the way the Church allows me to approach my Lord in a way I was never able to do in any other worship environment (and over the years I've tried plenty).  First and foremost, I am reminded on at least a weekly basis that God loves me so much, that He has come down first in the Incarnation and person of Jesus, and now in the Holy Eucharist.  I can not only "taste and see that the Lord is good" (Psalm 34:8) when I receive Him in Holy Communion, but I can also "keep watch with [Him]" (Matthew 26:40) in Adoration.

I am a wife.  I am not just "a wife", but "the wife of Oscar".  Being a wife is something that by definition ties a person to another, hence we are "one flesh" (Genesis 2:24, 1 Corinthians 6:16).  We are of one mind.  We make plans together, we share our joys and sorrows together, we raise our children together, we offer each other unconditional friendship and companionship.  My #1 go-to person is my husband, and vice-versa.  There is no one I feel closer to than him.  Without a doubt, he is one of the best gifts God has bestowed on me.  So for me to be a wife means to be a life partner to Oscar, with all that this entails.

I am also a mother.  This role, too, is by necessity tied to the specific children God has allowed us to raise for His glory.  And that precisely is my job as a mother - to raise little saints.  To be a saint means to be happy with God forever - who wouldn't want that for one's children, or oneself for that matter?  It's quite the undertaking, motherhood.  I believe it is my job - our job - to educate our children, to protect them, to prepare them for life, to share the gospel with them, to help them reach their potential in any way I can.  I do not buy into the modern-day secular belief that pretty much all of these tasks can be delegated to others. In my mind, doing so leaves the parent with the role of "supervisor", supervising the job that others are doing in regard to their children.  Some situations necessitate such an arrangement, and I certainly don't judge those who opt for it.  But it is not what I am called to.  To me, being a mother *entails* staying home with them and homeschooling them.  I wouldn't feel like a mother without these factors in place. 

But how do I incorporate these four roles into my daily identity?  I believe that God has arranged the circumstances of my life so that I may best attain my potential through homemaking, at least in this current phase of my life.  Previously, He had tasked me with teaching English to immigrants and international visa students (I'm not aware of any of my students having had refugee or asylee status).  And I can never be certain where He will lead me in the future.  But right now - and that's all we can ever truly know and embrace - I am a homemaker.  I am tasked with making a home for my family.  I am painfully aware of the lack of homes being made, well, homes, in many American households.  Rather, the home is taken for granted as merely a place to hang one's hat.  With adages such as "home is where your heart is", it is easy to think that "home" simply means "comfort".  And while I agree that one's home should most definitely be the place members of the household feel most comfortable, it is so much more than that.  It is a place of togetherness, of ongoing learning, of building the smallest segment of society.  It is where proper adult roles are learned, and where daily tasks are taught to the next generation.  It is where a family becomes more than simply a group of people bound together by blood or by law, but rather a place where a family develops its own family culture and becomes a unit unto itself.  None of this happens by happenstance.  Someone must be charged with orchestrating the smooth running of the household, ensuring that these various goals are being actively pursued.

The first few times I heard "creative" job descriptions for stay-at-home moms (such as "domestic engineer" or "household CEO"), I chuckled.  But it wasn't because I thought it was funny; it was because I felt shamed for not getting a paycheck for what I do.  I in no way believed that these creative phrases were meant to value the role of at-home parents.  Rather, I felt it was meant as a way to juxtapose terminology one associates with the "working world" with the domestic sphere, as if to prove the utter silliness of there being any true worth in the work done by homemakers.  And even though I never doubted that raising one's children full-time was, well, a full-time job, I did reserve some of the same aversion to stay-at-home wives without children at home.  Actually, if I'm being honest, I even held a dislike towards stay-at-home moms of older kids who attended school.  What do they do all day? - I would ask. 

And this is the crux of the situation.  I had no concept of what went into "making a home".  I mean, I knew there was childcare for those with kids, and some general cooking and cleaning that goes into keeping house.  But I viewed it from the perspective of a child.  I was given chores as a child.  So I didn't see these same tasks, when done by an adult in charge, as anything more.  Not only that, but I didn't consider the various chores that simply weren't being done altogether, or at least not nearly as frequently as they ought to be in order to keep a truly welcoming and cozy home for the family. 

Now I see so many opportunities in this new role as homemaker.  I already mentioned that my husband and I opted to educate our children at home, so "childcare" remains permanently something that we do on a daily basis. And instead of having to manage the feedback of teachers and coaches from afar, trying to inc

There's cooking, too, but as someone who has struggled with a lack of talent for cooking, I can tell you there's a world of difference between, say, ordering food or buying microwaveable meals, and cooking from scratch or even making one's own [hummus, guacamole, jam, bread...] and harvesting ingredients from one's own garden!  While both extremes feed the family, there is certainly more time, work, effort, and planning that goes into the latter, and generally more money going into the former.  In addition, I'm discovering that meal-planning not only helps to keep a steady variety of food, but it allows for the application of nutritional knowledge to maximize health and vitality, not just satiety. 

And as far as cleaning goes... I now have a vision of what I want my family's surroundings to look like.  Organized, not cluttered.  Bright and airy.  Clean.  So the chores that go into cleaning the house serve a higher purpose now.  I aim for a certain end result.  I haven't yet attained it, but at least I have a vision I'm aiming for.  And there are so many chores that I don't remember doing, which doesn't mean they weren't being done... plus there are maintenance issues that also escaped my notice as a child.  When I first became a mom, I timed myself one week to see just how long it took me to do all the chores I was doing at the time.  My efforts amounted to roughly 8 hours - for the week.  So based on what I was doing in maintaining a two bedroom apartment, I seemed to have confirmed that being a "housewife" with no kids to keep you occupied was not a full-time endeavor.  But now I see that I was simply doing the bare minimum.  To truly embrace the role of homemaker, there is always something that can be improved upon, that will keep one busy all week long. 

I admit it - in a sense, I am trying to harness my own version of a June Cleaver.  I want the feel of something of eras gone by in my home.  Of course, I know better than to apply a blanket statement to the effect of "good old days", because I know for everything I wish was still the same as "back then" (and when exactly, that varies), there are things I'm grateful we have moved past.  But the American in me gives me the freedom to pick and choose what resonates with me from various eras, and those are the things I'm hoping to embrace in my home.

I am learning to make our house a home.  I am learning to be a homemaker.  For the sake of my children and husband, but also for my own sake of feeling like my own home is a microcosm of society, I am embracing the role of homemaker.  Not some lofty-sounding domestic engineer or CEO of my family - these roles imply professionalism that seems too distant and cold for my taste.  But simply - home-maker, maker-of-a-home.  What can be more important than making a home for my family, so that they have a literal home base to which they can return from their adventures into the world, a home base where they learn how to treat other people, a home base that serves as a domestic church.  This last one is a new concept for me as well, but I'll save that for another time.

Homeschooling Research On Hold

I have been gung-ho about researching all things homeschooling for years now.  In fact, one of the reasons I was hoping to have children was so that I could homeschool!  I've enjoyed "doing preschool" at home with my daughter, but I've been noticing that I feel stretched and unable to balance everything I want/need to do.  The hard truth is that with my daughter only three and a half, homeschooling is not a current need.  It's been a hobby really, the research and the planning and the attempts at implementation.

Instead, what I think I'm going to focus on is laying the foundation of our future success.  A smoothly running household will require me to have a firm grasp on decluttering, truly finding a place for everything so that everything could actually go in its place, and then getting into a reliable schedule of household cleaning and chores.  I am slowly warming up to cooking again, so that is where my research and planning needs to be directed right now.  Gardening is another area that requires my attention.  All of these silmultaneously present educational opportunities anyway, just not standard academics.

So what I propose for the next year or so is this.  Still attend the Catholic Homeschoolers'  planning meeting at our church in August. Still participate in the annual Not Back to School online summit in September.  Still attend the homeschooling curriculum fairs/conventions next May.  And in the meantime, I know what I'm working on with Maya is letter and numeral recognition, letter-sound correlation, counting, as well as the things I have prepared on our Morning Board that just needs a few finishing touches for us to start using it daily.  And of course we'll continue with library books, lots of reading time in all three languages, and prayer and faith talks.

I don't need to incessantly view YouTube videos on homeschool room tours or curriculum reviews or how-tos of any kind.  I know what I need to be doing over this next year of preschool, and I am deciding to be intentional about how I spend my free time.  I'm done researching homeschooling until next summer, at which point I will access where we are and determine if we'll be starting Kindergarten "level" work, or rather how we're going to be implementing what is suggested in The Well-Trained Mind (I've returned to this resource and realizing I have the freedom to tinker with what doesn't resonate with me, I think this will be our primary go-to as far as choosing subjects and resources.  Basing our educational approach on the trivuum makes the most sense.  Everything else we'll take as it comes.)

Hopefully this decision will pave the way for more intentional prayer time, as well as using my desire to research and plan for more useful endeavors (gardening, cooking, homemaking in general). Sometimes just writing it down makes it feel more official, and so here it is.

Leaving Online Groups

Weighing the pros and cons of membership of an online group.  I recently chose not to rejoin a group that was very educational in terms of race relations and adoptee perspectives, because of the uneven playing field, for which I don't fault the administration at all.  I just feel like my continued presence was having a toxic effect on me.  I am a bit too literal and can't always decode the appropriate context, and when I hear something is offensive to someone, I run with it, even if it means risking destroying long-standing relationships.  The privileged voices in this group were volunteers, so they didn't need to consider my intention or give me the benefit of the doubt.  But in real life, I should extend those courtesies to others.  And since I don't like to maintain a double standard, the way I am in one arena is the way I want to be in all of them, which was proving quite troublesome in my personal life.

So I opted to find other groups that deal equally well in terms of racial issues, but also covers issues of disability, sexism, and LGBTQ concerns much more so than the other group did (though they did occasionally come up).  I find that even though the group rules sound pretty much the same as those of the group I left, I have not come across anyone telling someone else to sit on their hands and be quiet, no name-calling, no "you should Google before you speak" (as if we know what we don't know until someone points it out to us).  So I'm very happy with these other race-issues groups, and decided I didn't need to put up with being made to feel like the disenfranchised groups just to prove a point.

I'm one of those people who doesn't need to visit the Holocaust museum to understand the gravity of what happened.  It doesn't take much for me to see the light, because I do always assume I have room to grow and don't know everything.  It pisses me off when people treat me like "just another white girl", and whatever stereotypes that conveys for them.

That said, there is another group that I am now thinking I may want to reconsider.  The opposite problem is happening there.  It's a group for those involved with embryo donation, but it is entirely from the perspective of the recipient parents.  Rainbows and unicorns, as was the saying in the race group I left.  I've brought up serious issues to try to get people to consider the perspective of their children, and I've been dismissed as being too negative and in a recent thread, there was actually an onslaught of people who came to comment specifically - it seems - in an effort to minimize the importance of what I said, ignoring it altogether. And yes, I see the irony of my problem with this group versus my problem with the other group I left.

I have to wonder what's the point of my staying in this group.  It's a lot of oohing and ahhing and prayers and baby dust for those still trying, sharing pictures and merchandise ad nauseum of anything snowflake related, and really no education seems to be allowed.  I don't need support, I'm done "trying" - and I feel that way even as I sit here in my "two-week wait", 7dp5dt.  I don't need people's condolences over the embryo that didn't survive the thaw.  I don't need people praying to Santa-Genie-God to show favor on me.  It's nice to share the specifics of where I'm at during this cycle, but this cycle is just about over with, and I don't see any long-term advantages to continued membership in this group.

It's a shame, too.  I really want to mingle with other EA parents, but I see they have got to be similarly-minded, too.  As in, they have to want to parent by taking the child's perspective into consideration.  They cannot be of the mind-frame that as the parents, their word is law, that they know better, that the child is to be seen and not heard.

Owning My Own Spirituality

When I was religious, I took offense to my religious faith being compared to superstition.  But now that I'm not religious, I have to address this question head-on.  What is the difference between organized religion and superstition?  Superstition is a belief without basis in reality, no evidence, no proof.  At best, some anecdotal stories that encourage the perpetuation of the belief.  Many people follow superstitions "just in case" they're true.  That is the same as being superstitious.  People who are not superstitious do not believe in nonsense, period.  They don't let fear or hope in good luck charms affect their otherwise rational behavior.

And religious people?  Again, they either believe outright, because the elders, priests, imams, rabbis passed down the messages earlier prophets claimed they received directly from God, or they may not believe completely, but follow along "just in case".   

Our western concept of religious faith is based on revelation and trust in authority.  First, some person or group of people received a message directly from God. That message was understood to apply to an entire people, or even all people.  Then the prophets took it upon themselves to teach others what "God said".  They must have been charismatic to get people to believe all manner of nonsense... that and/or the people centuries and millenia ago were just that much more gullible.  

At any rate, after being repeated over and over again and having more and more people come to believe something, people grew up hearing their grandparents believing things, and it just doesn't enter many people's minds that so many people, over so many years, could actually believe utter nonsense.  It must be true, right?  So they believe and pass it on without question, perpetuating the now organized superstition for another generation.

Some religious people will tell you that you don't need to take it on other people's word alone.  That if you search the Scriptures, you'll be reassured of the revelation yourself.  The problem with this is that you often find what you are looking for.  If you want to believe something, you'll look for evidence to confirm it.  If you want to disbelieve it, you'll find evidence against it.  There's not an objective way around it.  People either want to believe or they don't.  Except when you have people who want to believe but just don't.  Surely, if life were easier as a believer, especially if someone had once believed with all of their heart, and now wants to return to that faith, what possible reason could there be to not be able to find evidence to confirm one's deepest desire?  The only explanation I can find is that what was once believed simply isn't true.

But if you're nonreligious, or post-religious, you already know all of this.  There isn't really a way to convince someone to give up their religious faith without replacing it with some other faith that is even more enticing. 

What I find funny is how anti-superstition some religious people can be.  Really?  You can't believe that nonsense!  It wasn't passed down directly from our approved leaders and authority figures!  How can you trust something not jotted down thousands of years ago and then translated into our language so that we can have holy writ?  That's just silly superstition.  No, what we believe is not only truth, but THE truth.  Just look at the millions and millions and millions of people around the world and through history who have believed just as we do!  That many people can't possibly be wrong!

No, if each individual went on their own spiritual quest and had the same revelation directly from God, without consulting scriptures or the traditions of their faith community, then we could claim they may all be on to something.  Near-death experiences come to mind.  But that so many people opted out of thinking for themselves and just accepted what was fed to them?  That's not proof of anything other than the human desire to have hope and have it easy.  

It's been difficult for me to try to wrap my head around being nonreligious, post-religious in a religious society.  Even when that society is only nominally religious, and multireligious at that. It seems that having a religious identity is simply expected, even if one doesn't really subscribe to it, even if others disagree with it.  

I imagine it may be like this (even worse) for people who identify as gender-fluid.  The expectation is that you're either female or male.  You're not given options; you have to forge them yourself and then just insist on them over and over again.  

Or I guess when an adoptee is made to feel like they must choose which family - birth or adoptive - is the "real" one for them.  People without this experience don't usually understand that you can consider both sides fully family.

I've fallen into this trap before.  During our years of infertility and pursuit of adoption, I picked up on societal hints that made me feel as though I had to have one of two life ambitions fulfilled in order to be considered a fully functioning member of society:  I either had to have a career, or I had to be a mother. (Men don't even have this option; fatherhood does not exempt men from pursuing a career.)

This is probably why the Universe has handed me the challenge of being post-religious.  I wasn't able to figure out how to live without the stress of the mother/career woman dichotomy.  I insisted on motherhood because I couldn't succeed to my liking in a career field.  I was supposed to opt out, not buy into the labels.  

I didn't.  And so I was handed another challenge, which has at least awakened me to the idea that I cannot live my life according to predetermined labels.  I cannot measure success using someone else's ruler.  Happiness is indeed the goal of life, but how I get there is entirely on my own shoulders to figure out.  I cannot just call on my religious label, career, motherhood, to give my life meaning.  

I cannot hope to transcend the world while still living by its rules.  And the world's rules say religions are there for me to choose one that I like best so that I can have a neat framework within which to find fulfillment and joy and peace.  But I already know this is not necessary, and for me now, impossible.  

Being completely honest now, why have I felt the need to have a religious identity?  Was it for me, so that I could point to it when someone questioned me about why I believed something or what my morals were based on?  If so, this was a cop-out.  Am I unable to claim ownership of my own life ethics and philosophy?  Does it matter that much to me if other people accept what I tell them or not? What does their acceptance, their opinion, have to do with the inner workings of my mind and soul?

Or was the need for a religious identity for the benefit of others?  To help ease their ability to classify me according to what they already know about different religious identities?  This of course is nonsense, as people are not fully knowledgeable about different religions, and many don't even know the various ways of being members of their own religion.  And besides, why do I care if others have an easy or difficult time placing me on the spectrum of religious beliefs and practices?

Perhaps it's for the benefit of both - being able to stay active to some degree within the religious community of my upbringing without adhering to its theology or morality?  But is this really possible?  To participate in a Catholic small group, let's say, where all participants are assumed to be Catholic, but to announce to the group that I'm actually Catholic-in-name-only?  What would be the point of that?  Am I there to learn or to teach?  If to learn, I already know what angle they're working, and I'm not interested.  If to teach, then I'd be quite arrogant to think I can teach anyone about the nature of God and humanity.  I'd only be taking on the role of their prophets and priests, which I reject.

Alex disagrees with me.  He calls himself Catholic because that's the label he picked and likes, and he uses the terminology that goes along with it, but he holds onto his own beliefs, only periodically adjusting them based on what he learns from Catholicism.  In essence, he's comfortable in this Catholic box; I am not.  I feel disingenuous.  If we were in an interreligious dialogue group, that'd be a different story.  But in our case, there are certain expectations.  If a participant isn't fully "in line with Rome", then at least the presupposition is that they want to be.  Or even if not, the other participants are fully allowed and encouraged to push that line of thinking.

I'm tired of trying to lift the layers of metaphor from Christian stories in order to find the unadulterated simple truths.  I want to go straight to the source, to look to nature, to not get wrapped up in symbolism.  Taoism, Zen, Deism is where I'm looking for my inspiration.  That would likely give me the label of Spiritual Independent.  I like aspects of various religious, philosophical, and secular traditions.  Different things resonate with me.  Together, they form the framework that gives my life meaning.

Perhaps next time I am asked about my religion or faith - if such an obvious encounter should actually take place - I just say "I'm independent" and let that stand for itself.  I have to own my beliefs, my ethics.  I have to explain why I still find meaning in attending Catholic worship services if I no longer view myself as a Christian.  I have to take that responsibility onto myself.  If someone questions me, I need to follow the advice of Paul: (1 Peter 3:15) "Always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you."

I cannot ride on the coattails of others any longer.

Deepening My Spirituality (Instead of Trying to Define It)

I received a request for prayer from a friend yesterday.  I waited until today to respond.  The reason? My immediate reaction was, "should I tell him I'm a Deist, and thus no longer pray the way he would expect from a fellow Catholic?'  But today I was moved to respond, "I'm holding [your request] in the light," the way Quakers lift up prayer requests.  It felt right to respond in this way.  If he comes back asking for why I used such terminology, I can get into the details then.  If he says it sounds like I'm Quaker, I'll say "thanks."

I will be attending an overnight Catholic women's retreat soon.  I love retreats, although generally I opt for silent Ignatian retreats, which allow plenty of alone time and time in nature.  Not sure this will compare.  I'm concerned that I will face my "former Catholicism" head on during this retreat.  I already know I will not be participating in their sacrament of reconciliation, and I'll be leaving to come home before their ending Mass begins.  I hope I won't have to share much and can just listen for nuggets of God's speaking to me through others, and then reflect alone as much as possible.  If asked, I can honestly say that I attend such-and-such Catholic church, because I do.  Though it does not mean I am Catholic anymore.

I think one of the most difficult things about this transition is being critically aware of the wording associated with holidays, spirituality, and God.  I can no longer just mouth what I'm used to mouthing if it holds no truth to me.  And I need to give myself time to come into my own as a Deist (does deist need to be capitalized?!) so that as my daughter grows, I'll be better prepared to navigate her "religious upbringing" with my husband.

The more I think about being a Deist, the more I wonder why I hadn't embraced the term much sooner, as soon as I learned about it.  I think I know.  It had a lot to do with my need for external validation.  But I live in such a pluralistic society that I see now that no matter what one person may validate for me, someone else may very well counter.  In other words, I can't please everyone.  Nor is that my job.

I hope that as a Deist, I'll be able to go back to celebrating Christmas and Easter without worrying about the Christian overtones... I was really on the fence this past year with both holidays, as I didn't know how to find meaning in them.  I think I may revisit some Pagan practices, actually.  I spent two years as a Pagan - one actively practicing and the second just sort of waiting for the next phase in my spiritual development.  During that time, I came to appreciate nature more, and it was one of the things that attracted me to the religion.  That and the feminine divine, but now I see God as a transcendent being, non-person, gender-less, so I don't need a reactionary Deity to counter my patriarchal upbringing's Father God.

The more I think about what it means to me to be a Deist, the more I think, "it's just so simple.  So uncomplicated.  So pure and minimalist."  I'm looking outside my window and catch a glimpse of leaves swaying in the breeze, and I realize that I'm having a "spiritual moment".  Here's my religion. I just attended a brief religious service, having merely glanced outside.  I look beyond the trees and sit still enough to notice the barely moving clouds in the bright blue sky, and I think, "there's God." And I see the sunshine on my windowsill, and think, "here, too."  :)

I love to read.  I recently realized that reading "counts" as a hobby (!).  And what does Deism encourage?  Reading, study, learning.  That is one of the main ways to get to know God.  (The other is observing nature.)  I'm glad I'm done looking, and can now spend my time on deepening my spirituality instead of on trying to define it.

Maintaining Heritage, Is It Worth It?

I recently attended a Polish festival.  It was a bittersweet experience.  On one hand, I was taken back to my homeland with the savory Polish food and seeing the traditional colorful pisanki and folk dolls for sale.  I watched as Poles, Americans, Polish-Americans performed some of our traditional dances dressed in our traditional costumes.  I joined in singing Sto Lat to a dancer whose last performance was that day, before he joined a religious order of monks.  And the whole time I felt like I wanted to go off into a corner and cry.

There were all of these reminders of Poland, but this wasn't Poland.  Most of the people there didn't speak Polish, or what Polish they did speak was heavily marked with an American accent.  There were actually more non-ethnic stands than Polish ones.  One vendor was actually selling German artisan items.  It just felt like a mere attempt at reminiscing, not the real thing.

Shortly after the festival, I visited the Polish church where I received my first communion the year after I arrived in the United States.  I sat through mass, easily singing along the various parts of the mass, reciting the Lord's prayer in my native tongue, looking around at my fellow Poles and wondering if any of them felt the same disconnect that I do.  I now have the added burden of no longer identifying as Catholic, something the priest that day pointed out as an essential aspect of Polish identity.  I'm not married to a Pole, so we do not speak Polish at home.  I do speak to my daughter in Polish, but I often wonder just how long that will last, since I resort to English to express the deepest emotions and most profound thoughts that come my way.  I won't allow my relationship with my daughter to suffer because I insist on using a language I'm no longer native-fluent in.

My younger siblings were both born in the United States.  We made one family trip to Poland when they were teenagers.  My brother was motivated by the pretty Polish girls to teach himself to read and write Polish.  His outgoing personality allowed him to enjoy himself and explore his parents' hometown without worrying about how he would be perceived.  My sister spent the majority of the time with her nose in one book or another, safely tucked away in our gradnmother's house.  Whenever I see Polish-Americans, I think of my siblings.  They are proud of their Polish heritage to varying degrees, but they do not miss something that was never theirs to begin with.  They have never known a time when they weren't American.  They can't relate to my sense of loss.

My parents, on the other hand, made a conscious choice to leave Poland as adults.  They got fully socialized into being a Polish man and a Polish woman before they left. Even if they don't maintain contact with the Polonia community, they have internalized a very clear Polish identity that has essentially been fossilized inside of them.  They do not worry about comparing themselves to other Poles, other Polonia, Polish-Americans, or other Americans.  Their ethnic identity was never questioned growing up.  They cannot relate to my sense of confusion over who I am.

My husband also immigrated to the United States as a child, but from Central America.  His family settled in a largely Spanish-speaking area of Florida.  He has the added aspect of being a "visible minority", meaning people know he is Latino just by looking at him.  He doesn't have to do anything to prove it, to himself or to others.  He speaks Spanish, which is icing on the cake.  And there are a ton of Latinos, both from his native El Salvador and other Latin American countries, in the region where we live.  There's restaurants, music stations, media outlets available in Spanish.  Even government forms offer a formal nod to Spanish speakers by providing an option to fill out paperwork in Spanish.  My husband doesn't feel confused about his identity and doesn't feel like he's lost anything because his Latino identity is reinforced all around.  He doesn't relate to my immigrant experience.

I've been learning about transracial parenting, trying to educate myself on how to provide racial mirroring for my daughter, how to raise her so that she feels comfortable in a Filipino community as an adult Pinay, how to instill in her a sense of pride in her genetic heritage without making her feel that just because she can be mistaken for her dad's Hispanic heritage she should shy away from claiming her Filipino heritage.  But I wonder if I can really deliver.

How can I teach my daughter to feel comfortable about her ethnic heritage if I don't feel comfortable about my own?  I'm tempted to stop putting so much pressure on myself, stop focusing so much on the externals.  Heritage is all about the past.  It's not who we are now unless... unless other people only see our racial ancestors when looking at us, and more importantly, when such observations lead to differential treatment.  Generally this treatment is based on negative stereotypes and bias, leading to discrimination and racism.  These are issues I don't need to worry about on account of my ethnic heritage while living in a country built on white privilige.  It seems the best thing I can do for my daughter in this regard is to make sure we raise her in a racially diverse area and expose her to not only her own heritage but to the cultures of various peoples.  

The spiritual instinct in me tells me that it is important not to become stuck in the material trappings of our physical appearance.  It's important to not ignore how our race can affect the way people treat us.  But it cannot become the only - or even the main - way in which we identify ourselves.

I'm in a difficult position of having to anticipate what my daughter may need in order to feel comfortable in her own skin.  But when it comes to my own heritage, I am the mistress of how I choose to identify and what I choose to feel about that identity.  At first I thought that since my daughter is still very young, I could focus on reconnecting to the Polish community, and later apply what I learned to establishing that connection for her.  But I'm afraid that this pursuit would actually distance me from my spiritual goals, goals as a mother to raise a well-rounded daughter who can gain strength in her identity via spiritual means rather than relying on the external validation of the Filipino community or mainstream (white?) community.

While I understand the perspective of the advice-givers in my transracial parenting group, they come from adults who were transracially adopted by white parents and raised in predominantly white communities, and white adoptive parents of non-white children.  It is important not to assume that their experiences are transferable to ours.  I'm learning a lot from them, but I have to continually consider that their advice may not apply to me 100%.  Nothing, it seems, relates to me in its entirety. Story of my life, it seems.  

Letting Go of Religious Labels

I have been struggling over the past year + with how I should be identifying myself in terms of my religious views, which have changed drastically since the birth of my daughter nearly 20 months ago. I have long associated the religion of my upbringing - Catholicism - with my ethnicity and country of birth - Poland.  I spent the majority of my life so far as a cultural Catholic, but in my late teens I began a spiritual journey which eventually led me to become a revert to Catholicism, albeit only temporarily.  In the process, I brought my husband into an embrace of the Catholic faith, or at least his flavor of it.  So when I realized last year that I suddenly no longer believed what the Catholic church taught, I began to search - again - for a replacement religion.

However, I now see that I haven't been completely authentic with myself.  I have been making excuses for why I "have to" find a replacement religious label, why I "have to" belong to a worship community.  A few days ago I thought I had "finally" - for the umpteenth time - found the community I had been looking for in Buddhism.  Decades ago I already identified as a "Cabudhsit" (Catholic Buddhist).  I long held an interest in martial arts, yoga, meditation, feng shui, and various other Eastern philosophies.  But what always put the breaks on my pursuit of Buddhism was their lack of belief in God.  I may have had my doubts and disbeliefs when it came to organized religion, but to doubt the existence of God was just going too far for me.

Yet as I began to read - again - about what Buddhism was all about, I started to contemplate the usual questions: how do I become a Buddhist?  When can I officially say that I'm a Buddhist?  Where is the nearest Buddhist community I can visit?  I wasn't even going to mention this rekindled interest to my husband, since I had already nearly become a Reform Jew and a Liberal Quaker just in the last eight months alone.  But then as I kept reading, I became aware of a disappointing feeling.  It was a bit ironic, actually, as I think it was quite a Buddhist thing for me to observe my thoughts and feelings in this way.  But I realized that I didn't really want to commit to a new religion, a new community.  I didn't want the responsibility of representing something as serious as a spiritual way of life or a religion.

What's more, I noticed I missed the things I love about the Quaker tradition, and started comparing the Five Precepts with the four most common Quaker testimonies, and I thought the Quaker version resonated much better with me.  So why wasn't I becoming a Quaker then?

At first I thought it was because the Quaker tradition originated in Christianity, and I am really done with that outlook on human nature and life's purpose.  I do not believe in original sin, so I do not believe in a Savior.  It took me years to not feel guilty, like I was betraying Jesus, conspicuously looking down at me from various artwork I have around the house.  If I was being brutally honest with myself, I had to stop thinking about what I thought I wanted to believe, or what I wished that I believed, and took a hard look at what I actually believed.

What I came up with was something I had already come across and blogged about previously - spiritual independence.  But my desire for a community, or rather, the notion that I thought I needed to have a corresponding community which would validate my religious label, has finally started to subside.  Another interesting quote I read recently - "Don't be a Buddhist; Be a Buddha."  To become enlightened meant letting go - once and for all - of all the internalized expectations I had placed on myself and what I thought a spiritual life must look like.

Here's what I've come up with.  To me, religion consists of three aspects: theology, morality, and practice.  In Catholicism, the theology stems from the Creed, which I have stopped professing during Mass several months ago in an effort to stay true to my actual beliefs.  Instead, my theology is quite simple and minimal:  I believe in a Creator-God of some sort, and I see proof of "His" existence by observing nature.  I furthermore believe in life after death (eternal life), again from observing how life is fluid and merely transfers the vehicles it occupies, moving from one material body to another, from seed to tree to fruit to new seed, or from corpse to dust in the ground to nutrients for other life forms.  One way or another, I see there is a system in place that does not abruptly stop at each individual's death.  But beyond this, I believe God's nature and the details of eternal life are unknowable and not important.  I am comforted enough knowing that I come from a source into which I will be taken up again, and that when I'll be on the other side, I will experience no remorse for having left my mortal life behind.  In other words, my theology is that of a Deist.

As far as morality, I keep coming back to the Quaker testimonies, which are so simple and pure: peace, integrity, equality, and simplicity.  Sometimes community and stewardship are listed as additional testimonies, but I see these as already covered in the first four: community is peace and equality among any group of people, and stewardship is the same plus living simply such that natural resources are not abused and wasted.  Every value I hold dear, every moral goal I uphold, can be traced back to at least one of these Quaker testimonies.  I feel as though if I live my life in an effort to live out these testimonies, that is all I need as a moral compass to guide me.  

Spiritual practice is something I have struggled the most with, and probably is the reason I have held on to the desire of finding a spiritual community or religious label for so long.  Spiritual practice is at once something I haven't prioritized in my life lately and something I believe I would benefit greatly from.  In order to live a moral life as outlined in the previous paragraph, I believe that I need a spiritual practice that will help me keep these four testimonies at the forefront of my consciousness. Quaker tradition utilizes silent waiting worship to this end.  And while I've tried that, both alone and in meeting, it isn't powerful enough for me.  I guess I need something more concrete, more definable, more ..... eek!... disciplined!  Whenever I've taken the time for waiting worship, I've ended up getting lots of great insight into things that have been brewing in the back of my mind, but it always felt as thought it was only the beginning, that there's more I should be doing to apply the insights from my contemplation into daily life.

And I think this is where the practices of meditation and yoga will have to come in.  Hatha yoga in particular allows me to be in my body, to truly experience the current moment, to live the way we are meant to live.  It has the added benefit of course of increasing strength and flexibility, among other concrete health benefits.  Meditation for me likewise involves breath control and maintaining an alert but still posture.  Sitting cross-legged and counting my breaths gives me something to return to again and again when my thoughts begin to race as they often do during waiting worship.  My goal is to sit for a given amount of time.  The time spent in meditation is to be time I take out of my day in order to live more fully because I'm not thinking about the past or the future.  Again, there are added benefits to meditation, including relaxation, lessened anxiety, and groundedness. With both yoga and meditation, the end result is something I need a lot of help with - building self confidence.

And so I seem to have found the three elements of religion that resonate with me: Nature's God of Deism; Quaker Testimonies of Peace, Integrity, Equality, and Simplicity; and the Buddhist/Hindu practice of yoga and mediation.

Furthermore, when it comes to community, I started to reflect on what I was really trying to get out of a community, what sort of communities I've most enjoyed in the past, and which aspect of religious service (where the community gathers to worship together) I enjoy most in the religion of my upbringing.  Everything points me to education, teaching, learning.  Hearing wisdom and sitting with it, letting it percolate, waiting for it to naturally find its way into an application in my daily life.  That's why sub-par homilies and sermons have always been so disappointing to me.  That's why it took me several years to make my peace with the fact that my PhD program was no longer serving me.  This is why I await with great excitement homeschooling my daughter.

Deism, as luck would have it, is all about education.  Lifelong learning is really the Deist worship. Everything we learn about has the potential to point us back to God.  Deism doesn't come with a creed, moral guidelines, or a spiritual practice.  Deism is a do-it-yourself kind of religion, and because it doesn't come with a brick-and-mortar worship community, I didn't think I could officially call myself a Deist.  But Deism is exactly the umbrella term I need.  I am free to supplement Deism in whatever ways are meaningful and helpful to me.

While I thought - and hoped - that I could do so with Quakerism, something about the need for an official commitment to a specific community has kept me at bay.  I think because I'm prone to replacing aspects of religiosity instead of doing away with them altogether.  Also, as I shared at the last Quaker meeting I attended, the testimony of integrity led me to the Quakers.  And yet, I think it's the testimony of integrity that is likewise preventing me from calling myself a Quaker.  Most Quakers are Christians, and with that comes a certain morality that I do not ascribe to necessarily.  I do not want to pick and choose aspects of an established religion to fit my own fancy.  That would be disingenuous of me, to use the label "Quaker" knowing full-well that it may conjure up certain expectations regarding belief and/or practice that simply do not describe me.  I know there are plenty of Liberal Quakers who do just this and their communities welcome them to do so.  But I think That of God in me is telling me that this is not to be my journey.  I am welcome to appreciate Quaker thought and apply what fits to my own spirituality, but I must stop short of applying the label of Quaker to myself as my religion of choice.  The same applies to Buddhism.

And so, while I thought at the beginning of this post that I was making my peace with the label "Spiritual Independent", I now see that I have actually made the case to embrace the label "Deist" without a moment's hesitation.  There is nothing in Deism that I don't want to embrace, and there's nothing about Deism that tells me I can't supplement the core Deist belief with morality and practice borrowed from other traditions.

The challenge that I have shied away from until now has been the anticipated questions from others when I finally announce that I am a Deist.  What do Deists believe?  What do Deists do?  My answer must simply be, "I can't speak for all Deists, but I can tell you what I believe and how I determine in what way to live my life."  I think the Buddha would be proud of me for taking that first step of authenticity, owning my own spiritual path without depending on external validation.

What's an Embryo and is it a Person?

I don't think "pre-embryos" are people for the same reason I don't think cake mix is the same as cake. There's all the ingredients, there's potential, but the fact that you still need a proper environment to develop, and that you can freeze embryos but not people (and expect them to survive), means there's a distinct difference between the seed and the seedling.

It needs to actually be clarified that fertility circles misuse the term embryo. Truth be told, I actually do believe real embryos are the tiniest beginning of people. But only when embryo is used correctly to refer to post implantation. Pre implantation, we have a fertilized egg, a morula, finally a blastocyst, depending on number of times cell division has taken place. Mere cell division doesn't turn a fertilized egg into a baby. For that, you need the womb. Only when planted in the lush uterine wall of a woman does a seed stand the chance to grow into a seedling.

Furthermore, the fact that before implantation, a blastocyst can split into two separate blastocysts, possibly resulting in the implantation of both and resulting in identical twins, this should tell us personhood doesn't begin until we are certain only one individual will result. Not only that, but two blasts can also fuse into one, forming a person known as a chamera, or an individual with two sets of DNA. This should prove that a singular unique DNA doesn't equal an individual, as is commonly thought.

This has little implication for the pro-life movement when it comes to abortion, since many women don't seek abortion until they miss their period, which means implantation has already taken place and - according to the above reasoning - there is a tiny baby at stake.  

But this reasoning does have implications for contraception-as-an-abortificant that is cited as one reason against contraception by the Catholic church.  Birth control pills can indeed prevent a fertilized egg from implanting, but if we were to accept implantation as the point of personhood, this should have no bearing. 

This reasoning also has implications for in-vitro fertilization.  Many people who complete their fertility treatment and are left with pre-embryos they do not plan on transferring in hopes of another baby are faced with a dilemma, at least those who believe that life begins at conception.  They don't want to keep the pre-embryos for themselves, either by transferring them or paying storage indefinitely.  But they don't want to destroy them or donate them to science either, since this would be synonymous with murder for those who believe a fertilized egg is a human person.  The third alternative is to allow the pre-embryos to be "adopted" into another family who will transfer them and hope to grow and raise their own baby. Sounds like the perfect solution, right?

Yes and no.  See, while pre-embryos are in the pre-implantation stage, it's one thing.  But once they are implanted and develop into a true embryo and later fetus, there is no going back - there won't be two out of one or one out of two.  However many implantations took place, that's how many babies are growing. And if those babies have DNA from a family other than the one they are being born into and raised by, then issues of identity and medical history and general access to the child's genetic relatives and ethnic heritage become issues.  These are not things that can easily be figured out after the fact, and yet many people don't think about the potential future child's sense of self when choosing fertility treatment options.  I'm not saying third party reproduction should or shouldn't happen.  I'm saying that when it does, the potential child's best interest needs to be paramount, both from the perspective of the donors (that they be willing to be known, at least when child turns 18), and from the parents (that they be open with child about their background and willing to support contact with genetic family).  

I don't expect us to all come to an agreement on when human personhood begins any time soon.  People make rationalizations for killing each other at all stages of growth and development, way past the in-the-womb stage, so there will always be those who simply don't care about the experiences of the in-utero fetus.

A side note, I used to cringe at the term "fetus", as I thought it belittled the humanity of the unborn baby. But I realize now that it's merely a stage of development, just like newborn, infant, toddler.... Interestingly, when I was at a store with my newborn daughter, a teenage girl approached us and with a squealing voice announced, "what a little fetus!"  I was horrified, but in retrospect I see that she clearly wasn't saying that my daughter wasn't a human being!  She was saying that she was so small she could easily still fit in the womb, which was true, as she was born weighing less than 6 pounds!

Brain and Heart Think as One

I forget what science film I watched on YouTube that said the brain and heart work together to think, but when I heard it, I instantly thought of how this relates to the concept of the Trinity.

~~~

The brain and the heart work together to think.

We’ve assumed that the brain is the sole source of intelligence, with the heart being subservient to the brain.

If the brain is God the Father, and the heart is God the Son, it makes sense when Jesus said that He and the Father are One. The Son does what the Father wants, yet it’s thanks to the heart that the brain can accomplish its goal.

The Holy Spirit is the neurotransmitters being released in the brain, the blood carrying oxygen to the heart, the flow that keeps communication running smoothly between the two.

Now if only I can get past the literal explanations given to the masses by theologians, and instead apply such science-based metaphors and analogies to Catholicism, I'll be well on my way to accepting the faith in good conscience again.

Identity Outside of Spirituality

I've been writing a lot about my spiritual and philosophical musings lately.  But sometimes I find that there are aspects of my identity that really push spirituality into the background.  I've been learning a lot about race lately, participating in #mywhiteprivilege Facebook status updates every day in June.  At first I resisted, arguing that as a non-English speaking immigrant to the US, White privilege somehow didn't apply to me.  But I soon realized that while I experienced my own share of prejudice for being "a foreigner", I nonetheless could "pass for White American", and hence I benefited from White privilege.  And so I began the challenge, because I realized that there are multiple prejudices in society, race being only one, and just because one applies to me doesn't mean another doesn't, or vice versa.

I've been learning new terminology such as microaggressions, small comments or actions, often unintentional and not necessarily "a big deal" on their own, that collectively serve to be a constant reminder to racial/ethnic minorities of their "non-standard status" in society.  I'm reminded of a friend, White American, who takes great interest in people who show "interesting" physical features. She approaches total strangers to ask where their heritage is from.  She considers this a neutral expression of her appreciation of their looks.  Apparently, the fact that people who are the recipients of such inquiries from her are having to deal with multiple such comments and questions only adds to their sense of "otherness".  My friend means well, but she is coming from a place of her own White privilege, where the reason she asks these questions is because she considers people with seemingly mixed heritage as out of the norm.  I can see that getting old real quick if I can't go anywhere without having to have my racial identity questioned.  And what about adoptees or donor conceived people who may not even know their full racial/ethnic heritage?  This sort of question not only reminds them that they look different from the norm, it reminds them of the loss of their genetic relatives and the associated heritage.

Another phrase I'm trying to wrap my mind around is "people of color", which refers to anyone who is not fully White.  I question this phrase, as it seems to only perpetrate the idea that Whiteness is the norm, that it's "colorless".  My husband doesn't care for the phrase either.  While I understand that "racial/ethnic minority" may not roll of the tongue as easily, that's what I use.  Then again, I also realize that the term "minority" is problematic, because in terms of sheer numbers, Whites are outnumbered worldwide by the other races put together.  This conundrum reminds me of the issue of calling Native Americans... well, Native Americans.  I've heard some who do not like being grouped under this umbrella term, and prefer to go by their specific tribal association.  I lived this preference for a couple of decades.  I fought being grouped with White Americans because I considered myself specifically Polish.  But with time came assimilation, and since now I identify more closely with my adopted home, I likewise identify more closely with other White Americans.

And speaking of losing ties with my native Poland... I recently wrote an article about my experiences growing up bilingual and how I struggled with one aspect of Polish grammar - differentiating between the formal and informal "you" when addressing my mother.  Since I did not grow up hearing any child address an elder in an informal way, I struggled for years with this.  But the first comment I read from a reader was from a Pole who grew up in Poland who never had this struggle, yet found it appropriate to call my experience "funny".  This stung, but only a little.  Since I have already distanced myself from so-called "fellow Poles", this comment only served to confirm my decision to self-identify more closely with Americans.

My final observation has to do with the idea of color-blindness when it comes to race.  Some people think this is the solution to racial prejudice.  I see this sort of thinking as similar to one flavor of feminism which encouraged women to be more like men, instead of valuing women's uniqueness in its own right.  Why should we pretend that race doesn't exist?  No, it exists.  It just doesn't need to come with all the associated baggage of stereotypes, phobias, privilege, bigotry, power struggles, etc. But people should be able to celebrate their racial/ethnic heritage, just without it being turned against them.  Diversity, not color-blindness, is the solution to racism.  IMHO

Staying at Home to Parent Full-Time

Let me cut straight to the chase.  The number one reason I wanted to stay home with Maya was because, after 10 years of marriage and our long struggle to become parents, I couldn't imagine doing all of that, going through all we went through, so that I could be a part-time mom.  I understand that this isn't a choice for some people, but when we looked at our circumstances, it did make financial sense in addition to my desire to give my all to my baby, 24/7.  The idea that I should continue to work outside the home so that I could then turn around and give my entire income to child care providers who would be raising my daughter while I was working, well, it just sounded ludicrous.  I wanted to be a mom.  I did not want a child for the sake of having an accessory.  I'm sorry, but I see too much of that everywhere I turn.  People having kids just because that's what you "do" at a certain age or stage in your life, or worse, in an attempt to make yourself feel grown-up (for teen moms) or to try to coerce a man (the baby's daddy) to stay with you.

Ok, so I actually wanted - and still do - to spend my time with Maya.  I have chosen to put my other interests aside to make room for Maya in my life.  I strongly disagree with the parenting advice that states that we ought to try to make the baby fit into our life, since the baby is the newcomer.  Um, that's like saying to newlyweds that they need to get their spouse to fit into their bachelor/ette life. No, when you get married, your life changes.  It's supposed to.  And when you become a parent, your life changes, and it's supposed to.  If your career is more important than family life, then don't have kids.  It's that simple.  Nowadays, this is a valid choice.  If you're not going to give parenting your all, then don't do it half-ass.  Your child deserves better.

Now, I'm not saying that I am the perfect mother, because that's insane. It's impossible to do everything right all the time.  However, I am saying that my priority at this point in my life is my daughter and not myself.  To that end, I am doing everything in my power, to the best of my abilities, to give her the best start in life.  That's not to say that other parents don't have the same mindset while going about it completely differently.  Again, everyone's circumstances are different.  But for me, staying home full time is how I'm trying to provide the best start in life for my daughter.

For one thing, attachment is the foundation of all of her future relationships.  During her critical infant and toddler years, she needs to develop a secure attachment to her primary caretakers (her dad and me), so that she can learn to trust, and so that she can learn what a healthy relationship is all about.  She cannot have a strong attachment to someone who doesn't spend significant time with her.
Also, we are raising Maya in a multilingual household.  Especially with Polish, it would be very difficult for her to have sufficient exposure to the language if she didn't hear it from me all day long.

Finally, there are various values that Alex and I hope to pass on to her that we know are not shared by the mainstream.  It would be very difficult to find child care providers who were equally passionate about the environment, for a start.  I know of none that would be willing to cloth diaper or practice elimination communication with her.

And so, with Maya's best interest in mind, Alex and I decided for me to stay home full time while we moved across the state line and downsized our townhome to a one bedroom with den apartment.  This way, Alex's commute time is drastically cut, and he is able to spend significant time with Maya every day after work.  He also changed positions so that he wouldn't be required to travel regularly the way he used to.  This choice came at a price.  We are not near our families.  It's a big hassle to go see them, and they rarely if ever come to see us.  Still, with all due respect, it was more important for Maya to have her parents available than to see her extended family on a regular basis.  I wish she'd have been able to get the benefit of both, but our circumstances did not allow that.

After over a year of staying home full time with Maya, the fog of postpartum anxiety finally having lifted, I'm starting to see our arrangement in a more balanced way.  In other words, there are pros and cons.  Just the same, it doesn't change my mind about us having made the best decision for our family.  It does, however, prompt me to consider ways to address the cons so that they don't interfere with the overall pros.  But that's for another time.

Homeschooling Myself

A faith/philosophy post is a bit overdue.  I was taking a walk outside today.  There is an artificially made lake on my campus.  As I paced back and forth, peering into the water, looking up at the sky, allowing the various sights and sounds to attract my attention, I made a few observations. 

As I stopped to turn around at the edge of the lake, where the water mingles with the sand that yields to a wooded area, I thought about how nature is made up of transitions.  After all, where exactly does the lake end and the land begin?  If I say that the lake starts at the first sign of water, even if that water doesn’t so much as come up to my ankles, then how is this different from a puddle elsewhere on otherwise dry land?  But if I say that the same spot is strictly dry land, then how do I account for the tiny fish swimming around to the very edge and back?  Puddles don’t host fish.  

I’ve had a similar thought process lately when it comes to the beginning of human life debate that is ongoing in our society.  Some people say we become a human person at the moment of conception, yet how is this possible if we know that a human embryo can split into two identical twins?  Likewise, two separately fertilized eggs can merge into a single embryo around the time of implantation, resulting in a chimera – one person with two sets of DNA.  

Others say that birth is the magic moment when we begin to be alive.  But how do we account for premature babies?  And what about the fact that a fetus has been shown to experience pain and react to sensory stimulation?  Furthermore, epigenetics tells us that we are affected by what we experience while in the womb.  If we didn’t have our life “turn on” until the moment of birth, there would be no evidence of living in utero.  

Perhaps when it comes to deciding where the actual boundaries of a lake are, it matters little.  But when it comes to deciding when life – especially human life – begins and ends, it matters a lot.  However, I don’t think we need to know the answer to this question to proceed ethically and morally.  When in doubt, erring on the side of caution seems to be the most reasonable way to go.

But returning to my observations from this afternoon…

I was entertained by observing creatures in their natural (or somewhat natural) environment.  I watched a school of fish stop when I stopped, and face me as if expecting me to drop some crumbs for them to feed on.  I noticed a dragonfly hovering in one spot, and was reminded of how our human invention of a helicopter is simply a man-made reproduction of something already existent in nature.  I saw a spider walking on water, and recalled how amazed people were to see Jesus do likewise, yet here we have a different creature made by God to imitate Christ in this one physical way.  

I thought of how our modern society robs us of such natural entertainment and education.  How much can we learn by merely observing nature!  So much more than a mere textbook can teach us.  Yet we deprive ourselves of access to God’s natural school and play ground, and then try to compensate with virtual renditions of the real thing.

Honestly, this post is really about homeschooling.  Homeschooling myself.  Twenty years of formal education (right up until all doctoral requirements were met minus the dissertation) has done little in the way of better preparing me for life.  And if education doesn’t prepare a student for life, then what’s the point?  

Expecting a baby is giving me a renewed hope of learning about God’s beautiful world by parenting and educating my child.  I am so blessed to have this opportunity!

That Part of Parenting That's For Mom (or Dad)

In my last post, I mentioned not wanting to set up a nursery per se, as it would be very short lived before baby outgrows it, and I commented that it's mostly for the parents anyway.  Today, I wanted to mention that doing something under the premise of it being for the child when in reality it's for the benefit of the parent is not in itself a bad thing - at least I don't think so.  I simply used this point as an explanation for why I'm opting out of the planning-the-nursery aspect of prepping for baby in lieu of other excitement.  To each their own.

For instance, though I started a bit backwards, I've been making my way back from researching homeschooling approaches to parenting styles to finally the day-to-day scheduling and expectations I can have for myself and our baby in the early years.  In my research, as I've mentioned previously, I've come across Waldorf education and attachment parenting, both of which really resonate with me.  Upon further scrutiny, I see that one of the reasons they both resonate so well with me and what I want for my child is that they remind  me so much of my own childhood, which by all accounts I would describe as "wholesome", something I think both Waldorf education and attachment parenting aim for as well.

Therefore, I'll come right out and say it - one of the perks of parenting for me will be to relive some of the best parts of my own childhood.  Take wooden toys for example.  I came across a negative comment claiming that children don't want wooden toys.  Perhaps if you've already spent years getting them all the latest plastic and electronic gadgets they demand after seeing them in commercials, and all of a sudden you switch to a simple wooden toy.  But children do not need to be entertained.  They need to be inspired and encouraged to be creative, entertain themselves, be innovative, discover the world around them, not be spoon-fed it to them in the guise of academics.  I think wooden toys are much more conducive to building a child's imagination than are modern toys made with a specific, pre-programmed scope of activity that only calls for the child to click a button and sit back and watch.

I know it's going to be tough to balance gratitude for any such modern gifts that may come our way from well-meaning and generous loved ones with my overall desire to create a wholesome atmosphere for my child.  Not sure yet how to go about it, though of course any gift for my child must go through me and Alex for final approval.  I'd hope that people - especially those who are parents themselves - would think to ask us as parents if a particular gift may be appropriate.  But I guess if one's criteria for one's own child aren't very narrow, one wouldn't have on one's radar the idea that there is such a thing as an inappropriate or unwanted toy, item of clothing, or gadget.

I think I will simply divert to the polite smile and thank you for any gifts I feel aren't wholesome or appropriate for my child, followed by a regularly scheduled trip to a donation center.  And I'll take it upon myself to select the items with which I do want to surround my child.  After all, I can't be the only parent wanting to get some benefit out of parenting for themselves?!  My child will play and learn like every other, but why do it the way all the Joneses and Smiths do it, when we can do it our own way?