"Baby Bashers"

There seems to be an epidemic in our society of people inflicted with a virus of hatred toward children. My husband and I stand in position of direct opposition: we love children. When we were pregnant, we heard so much negativity about carrying a child and what to expect when you are laboring. When we were laboring, I had to mentally block all those things from my memory so that I could focus on a positive birthing experience, which I (incorrectly) assumed was the pinnacle of my woes. Not so.

My daughter is now ten weeks old and I am just starting the climb up a perilous mountain of discouraging comments. I understand in any circumstance there will be individuals with commentary that doesn't sit right with you. Perhaps the most surprising element for me is the source of this negativism: my pastors.

Recently, my husband gave testimony at our church about our miraculous home birthing experience and the healthful birth of our 10 lb. baby. Just after that, our pastor rose to the pulpit to speak... and he did: about poop and puke and about our amazing "bowling ball".

The following week we were attending a new service and we came in contact with our children's pastor who firmly reminded us three times that if our child becomes louder than the activity on the stage we had to take her to the nursery and be in their care (I'm sure removing myself from the sanctuary would have sufficed, but it wasn't mentioned as an option). At the very least, I was offended that my church would stifle the sounds of "infants and babes" but also that they would suggest separating a nursing child from her mother. It just seems rude.

The "C" Closet

When my father first moved to Turkey, he did so alone as my mom was completing an intensive mathematics courseload at the local university near their last duty station. As this was my father's first time relocating alone, he organized the home in what way seemed best to him, which included a couple of (what my mother and I would call) abnormalities. The most standout of these was the "C" closet in which my father put items he could not find other locations for and that began with the letter "C". When my mom reached Turkey, she would ask for the locations of some items and he would reply: "It's in the C closet". What makes this all the better, is this closet was located in the bathroom. Below are some of my favorites:

• cupcake holders
• cast iron skillet
• canned corn
• candles
• cookbooks
• cleaning products
• cordless phone
• cell phone charger
• coin change
• canker sore medication
• curry mix