Rub a-Dub Dub

As the old cliché goes, opposites do attract. I should know. I married mine.

He is covered in tattoos, while I have only one modestly concealed tat. He rides motorcycles, while I continue to insist on never learning how to drive stick shift, let alone ride on two wheels. He thinks it is acceptable to talk on the phone while on the can, while I find it appalling... which leads me to wonder, has he ever called me from the bathroom?

Another of our differences is our shopping habits. Jon is impulsive, while I hit the shops with the mantra: "Do I need it or do I want it?" Don't get me wrong: he doesn't renew his wardrobe every month. However, he often gets things--BIG things--knowing that, worst case scenario, he can return/resell/exchange them if he changes his mind. It's not so much a spending issue, since he usually gets these items at a good price. Rather, it's our lack of space that gets me scratching my head when he comes home with his new finds. And where, do you suggest, will we store this?

Case-in-point, about two years ago, he bought a small motocross bike for a song. We had no room to store my car in the garage, let alone another bike! And when did he have the time to ride around on an undersized motor bike? Experiencing a case of buyer's remorse, Jon posted an ad online and sold it a few days later--for a profit, mind, you.

Jon's latest impulsive acquisition happened last week. As he was driving out of the drive-through, burger in hand, and past the hardware store, he slowed down when a couple of employees walked out the main door hauling a bathtub. Let me clarify. This was not any old tub. It was a massive, heart-shaped tub that neither of our bathrooms can contain within their current dimensions. Câline de bine.

"Hey, where are you going with that?" he asked the employees.
"This is a demo. It's going in the trash," one of them replied.
"Is there anything wrong with it?" he inquired.
"No," they said.
"Well, it's going in my truck!" concluded my husband.

This transaction was soon followed by a giddy phone call from Jon. "I got a tub!" he said.
"You got a what?" I asked, untangling the baby's fingers from my hair.
"A bathtub. I got a heart-shaped tub!"

And was it ever heart-shaped. My mom and I peeked out the window when he rolled up to the driveway that evening with the big shiny tub in the bed of the pickup truck. "Geez, he wasn't kidding. That tub is shaped like a heart," I muttered. "Where the hell are we going to put that?"

"Maybe you can put it in the backyard. You can put some fish in it," my mom replied. Thanks, Mom.

So, we found a place for the tub for now. It is standing on its side and leaning up against stuff. Unless we win the lottery, I'm afraid we won't be bathing in it any time soon. We do intend on renovating our bathrooms in the future, but that will mean replacing the old furnace with a leaner, greener one, installing new plumbing, knocking down our bedroom wall, and designing a walk-in shower. And until then, we have bills to pay. And the damn baby just keeps growing out of his clothes.

I promise to announce the day I take my first soak in the tub. In the meantime, if any of you are shopping for a classy heart-shaped bathtub, give my husband a shout. It could be yours if the price is right.

Oh, I should mention that while Jon loves his bath time, I admit I'm more of a shower person. Opposites do attract.

To Baptize or Not To Baptize?

The idea of little unbaptized babies floating aimlessly in purgatory hurts my heart. Is that enough reason to have our boy baptized?

I have a dilemma.

Marshall is nearing the four-month mark, meaning that he is within the ideal age range to be baptized. The issue is: do we baptize him or not?

Jon and I are both Christian. He is Catholic and I am Protestant. We decided on a civil marriage because we found it hypocritical to organize a church ceremony in a building that we rarely go to, led by a minister who doesn't know us at all. Our good friend Marc-Etienne married us in the garden of a lovely restaurant one August morning in a simple, spiritual, yet non-religious ceremony. And we were thrilled with the way things panned out.

"Can't you have a civil baptism?" my dad asked the other day. While that idea seemed interesting for a split second, it got me thinking, What would he baptized into? The Church of Non-Belief? Is there a Church of Fence-Sitters? Sign me up.

I can't describe myself as a very religious person. Lately, I've only stepped foot inside a church for weddings and funerals. I, like many people, only tend to pray when things are going badly. And the only times I say grace are at Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. Funny: these are the three times of the year that my mother serves us turkey. So, essentially, our family says grace whenever we eat a large bird. But I do believe that there is something beyond life on Earth. I guess I am covering my bases in case I do end up at Saint Pete's gates after I die. I have to have something on my CV.

Saint Peter: Did you go to church when you were alive?
Me: Occasionally. And when I did, I always put at least a fiver in the donation basket.
Saint Peter: Did you pray to God when you were alive?
Me: I did when I needed Him most. And I apologize for anything blasphemous He may have heard me say.

With the birth of my son, I have found myself giving a little shout out to God when things are going well. Jon and I are thankful for having a healthy, happy little boy. We are thankful for having the opportunity to raise him in a loving home in a terrific neighbourhood. Meanwhile, the idea of little unbaptized babies floating aimlessly in purgatory hurts my heart. Is that enough reason to have our boy baptized?

Here's the hitch: what will the Church say when I call up the minister asking for our baby to be baptized? Will he think we are hypocrites for conveniently turning to religion and expecting the Church to comply? Will he turn us away?

Marshall will know about different religions and beliefs, regardless of whether he will be baptized. Stripped down, all religions--even the Church of Non-Belief--abide by The Golden Rule. What a wonderful lesson to teach a child!

Who knows? I may choose to send Marshall to Sunday School, like my mother did when we were little. Recently, I have been reflecting on those early years, when Mom dressed us in our Sunday best and we piled into her car, listening to the CJAD trivia show on our way to church. Mom loves to sing, and what better place to belt out happy songs than in the United Church? Mom also had her hands full with three children very close in age. She got a breather when we wandered over to Sunday School half-way through the service. Eventually, Sunday mornings got a little too chaotic with school projects to finish and household chores to tend to.

While I may not visit God's house anymore, knowing that there is an ear to hear my concerns and my appreciation reassures me. Whether that ear exists is anyone's guess. We all find out eventually, only it's too late to tell our friends about it. And if I intend to cover my own bases for that day, it is only fair that I cover them for my boy, too.

Now, let's hope the Church allows us to do it.

Crafty Monday!

I am a pretty crafty gal. My closets are stuffed with crafting materials past and present, from stained glass grinders to calligraphy pens to crochet hooks. Unfortunately, caring for baby leaves me with little time to satisfy my bricolage needs.

So, this morning I rolled up my sleeves and got down to crafting business. My photo collection of Mr. Man is getting pretty massive. So, I decided to go Photoshopping and make Marshall his personalized baby book with the Baby Einstein plastic book he got from Santa for Christmas and my nifty printer.

The end result looks pretty darn good. However, Marshall was not too keen on reading. Poor kid. I guess I'll have to get his opinion on a better day.