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Tonight after work I was sitting on the porch swing rocking G while C played over by our fig tree (J and E are at their dad’s house this week). Jon was in the house. Just as I was about to pack it in and head inside, several missionaries from a local Baptist congregation wandered up our street and stopped at our house. They called out greetings, and I walked out into our yard to chat with them.

We exchanged pleasantries about the weather, and they told me their names. They admired C and G and asked if they were my only children. I replied that I am the mother of five children, but that I recently lost my oldest son.

That’s when they pounced.

First, one of the women said she understood just how I feel since she lost her sister last year (which is actually way better than the person who about a month ago told me that she understands my loss because her dog died recently and “he was just like a child to me.”) Then they asked me if I was sure that Henry had been “saved” before his death, and whether I knew where he is now. I took a deep breath and calmly answered “yes” and “yes.” I offered no details.

Then they asked me if I have a church. I said that I did. They asked me to elaborate, so I told them that we attend St. James Episcopal, right up the street.

They shook their heads sadly and explained in so many words that given where I go to church, it’s possible that Henry is actually burning in hell right now. They then went on to suggest that “now would be a good time” to ensure that my remaining children do not meet a similar, fiery fate by bringing the kids to THEIR church, which God and Jesus apparently favor over my own.

Then they handed me some church-produced literature about the dangers of gay marriage and abortion and whatnot, and went on to the next house on our street.

I stood there, watching them walk away, bemused by the unmitigated gall of these women.

Did two Baptist missionaries just come into my yard and tell me that my recently deceased child is likely FRYING IN HELL? Why yes, yes they did.

Henry would have found the entire episode wildly amusing. He certainly would have engaged them in an earnest debate in which he would have told them something ridiculous like that he worshipped tabby cats or pomegranates or something. Then he would have sat back and let them have at him in their attempts to save him.

As it happens, I don’t actually know WHERE Henry is, like they asked. I really struggle with that. But I do know HOW he is, and that’s loved and at peace and with God, who loves us, even if we aren’t “saved” to someone else’s specifications.

 

So last night, after C was asleep and I had bunked down with her for the night, I heard Jon yell out some choice obscenities, obviously very surprised by something. I hopped out of bed and went scurrying down the hall to see what in the world was going on. I found him and M, my kids’ stepmother who had stopped by to pick up some baby furniture she has very sweetly offered to paint for us, staring at our guinea pigs’ cage.

We have two MALE guinea pigs – Pablo and Piggie. They are very sweet, laid back critters and the kids love them (well, except for J, who objects on principle to the idea of rodents as pets). So I looked down at Pablo and Piggie and immediately noticed that there were now FIVE guinea pigs scampering about the large cage – the two adults and three impossibly cute miniature guinea pigs who looked like wee, adorable versions of their parents.

Parents? But we were ASSURED by the pet shop staff when Piggie and Pablo came home with us about 4 months ago that they were both males. Well, apparently these “experts” at PetWorld were about as competent as the experts who advised BP on safety planning for deep water drilling. In other words, they didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.

So now we have three teensy little guinea pigs, along with Pablo and Piggie.

surprise baby pigs!

We have determined that Piggie (light gray adult pig) is the mama and Pablo is the daddy. So on the advice of my friend Janet, who has had baby guinea pigs before, we’ve separated Pablo into a separate cage for now so he doesn’t hurt the babies. This gives Piggie and her little ones plenty of room to nurse and cuddle and run around and be adorable for the 3-6 weeks the babies need to stay with their mama. Then, of course, we will have to find homes for the babies. (Anyone? Anyone?)

As for Pablo, he is one seriously annoyed Papa Pig. He does NOT like being separated from his beloved Piggie, and he mostly just sits in his new, separate cage and sulks and makes angry pig noises. He will likely be even more irritated when he discovers that next week some time he will be making a little trip to the vet for minor surgery to ensure he never again fathers a litter of piglets…

So yea, anybody want an adorable baby guinea pig?

(Henry would have LOVED the baby guinea pigs. He loved animals – especially cute baby animals who are prankish enough to arrive with absolutely NO warning)

 

C to me this morning: “I need to find my shoes and put them on so I don’t lose my feet.”

lost shoes

 

From my inbox today (name of actual person who signed off on the email redacted because I don’t wanna be mean).

I especially love all the cheery exclamation points!

———————————–
Hi Katie,

I work for the company that is producing Mutual of Omaha’s “proud sponsor of life’s aha moments” campaign– visit www.ahamoment.com to see what an aha moment is and the great real stories we filmed during the campaign in 2009.

Associated to that, we have a 34-foot Airstream mobile film studio that is traveling the US on a 25-city tour to capture the country’s aha moments. We are headed to Knoxville this upcoming Monday, June 21st & Tuesday, June 22nd, and would love to invite you to share a defining life moment – large or small. I came across your blog and think you would have a great story to share! You would just have to step into the Airstream studio for a few minutes and tell your story on film, which would be posted to www.ahamoment.com .

We would love to have you if you are interested! We will be parked at Market Square (at approximately 398 Union Ave.), Monday, June 21st (11am to 7pm) and Tuesday, June 22nd (11am to 7pm).

Let me know as soon as possible and I can reserve some time for you, thanks!

Blog Link: http://blog.ahamoment.com/
Follow the tour on Twitter: @myahamoment
Follow the tour on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/myahamoment?ref=ts
Check into your tour stop on foursquare: http://foursquare.com/user/myahamoment

Name of Person
Email Person’s email address

———————————————————

So I’m wondering what she thinks my “aha” moment would be? Maybe, “Aha! My child just died!” or “Aha! I haven’t stopped crying for two weeks!”

(This is a good reminder to PR folks to READ BLOGS BEFORE YOU PITCH THEM. Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it?)

 

Two year old C to me this morning: “My favorite things are reading books and washing my hands.”

eatsre1

 

C to Jon: “Daddy, your tummy is getting as big as mama’s!”

(As Jon’s belly is flat as a washboard and mine is as large as a small Latvian village, this is obviously not the case, but I can’t say I didn’t chortle when she said it…;-)

 

My very kind sister in law has loaned me a fetal doppler monitor that I can use at home for the last half of my pregnancy to listen in on G’s little heartbeat whenever I get anxious. And between my previous pregnancy losses and the fact that I feel a lot less movement in this pregnancy due to the position of my placenta, I get anxious a lot.

IMG00323-20100401-0727.jpg

It’s a nifty little machine, and this morning I tried it out for the first time. After a little trial and error, I was able to pick up the swoosh, swoosh, swoosh of G’s heartbeat. Very reassuring.

Of course C wanted to “help” by holding the boxy part of the machine while I moved the doppler wand around my belly. As she held it, she offered this rather bizarre observation, apropos of nothing: “If you push the emergency button, a cowboy will come.”

She repeated this several times.

I didn’t know she even knew what a cowboy is. Or an emergency button. But maybe I’ll try it sometime. You know, if I ever find myself in emergency need of a cowboy.

 

….MSNBC, for this winner today:

“Is Nature Out of Control?”

(ANSWER: why yes, MSNBC, yes she is…)

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