When Momma's Happy....

My parents gave me the best gift in the world.

Free time.

For the past two days, I've had 6 glorious hours each day to go to the UU General Assembly by myself. I got to ride the train downtown and instead of wrangling children, I was able to just sit and observe the world around me. I watched the long stretch of businesses and industrial sites that line the train track whir by - many covered in murals and graffiti. (My favorite was a Diego Rivera-esque mural of iron workers that someone had spraypainted with the phrase "When you burn down paradise, you can blame it on progress.")

I noticed the glittering squares of compacted scrap metal at the recycling center, the thick patches of thistle weeds blooming misty purple, the woman in the seat next to me trying to hide three squirming kittens down the front of her shirt.

I was able to get ready by myself...no sunscreening or pinning down squirmy bodies to put pants on. I walked from place to place without 50lbs of children to haul around with me. I got to eat lunch with my classmates and feel like a seminarian again - an intelligent adult who can carry on a conversation and finish a meal without being interrupted.

In short, it was heaven.

When I got home the first night, I told my mom, "I really need to find a way to get more alone time. I'm such a better mom when I come back."


Then I proceeded to put my child in the bathtub with his diaper on.

It took me several minutes before I noticed the giant swelling mass barely clinging to his body. He looked up at me with an expression that clearly said, "What the hell, mom?"




So maybe I'm not a more alert mother....but a happier one.

This Dedication Goes Out to My Chubby Baby

Fionn had a wonderful dedication ceremony yesterday at our church - it was a perfect day weather-wise and we were very grateful for the friends and family that made the drive to see it. Of course, seeing it would be more exciting than reading about it, so I planned on filming the whole occasion for those who couldn't make it. But in the rush to get the boys ready in time to pick up the cake for the reception and get to the church, we left the camera at home. (Insert image of me kicking myself - HARD).

Emerson's dedication ceremony was equally beautiful (we had just learned about his diagnosis, so when the minister blessed him with water and wished that his life may "take the easy way," my mother and I and Emerson's Guidemother all burst into tears that lasted the rest of the ceremony). But I was able to compile this ceremony and write parts of it myself, so that added something different.

Fionn was his fat and happy self the whole way through, only grimacing when the ceremonial water was dabbed onto his head. Emerson was less than enthusiastic, however, and squirmed, insisted on sitting down on the floor, tried to crawl away, demanded a drink, etc. until I finally put him back into the pew to sit with his cousin. I wish I had a photo of the look on his face when the Director of Education got to his portion of the ceremony and addressed him directly - through a microphone. He froze in place and his eyes got so wide I swear if his hair wasn't already white it would've turned white then!

For those who are interested, I will copy the ceremony below. Thank you again to everyone who made it such a perfect day!

Fionn’s Ceremony


Introduction: In presenting your child in this service of religion that he may be named and recognized by this church family, you are thereby taking a step as parents in the assumption of moral responsibility. Let your child learn from your lips and your life how lovely is the path of virtue, how noble it is to become an apostle of truth, how holy it is to sacrifice oneself, if need be, for the good of others.

The great end of parental care, as William Ellery Channing observed, “is not to stamp your minds upon the young but to stir up their own; not to make them see with your eyes but to look inquiringly and steadily with their own; not to form an outward regularity but to touch inward springs; not to burden memory but to quicken the power of thought, so that they may learn and approve for themselves what is everlastingly right and good.” (Lon Ray Call)

Presentation of the Name:

Today we dedicate Kepler Fionn. Fionn is a Gaelic word meaning “white” or “bright.” It’s also the name of the famous warrior in Irish mythology, Fionn Macool, whose hair turned prematurely white as a child. Just as the mythological hero was brave in defending his homeland, Fionn’s parents wish him courage and strength as he faces the challenges ahead.

By recognizing Fionn’s name publicly, we declare that he is an individual – a unique and separate person with a dignity and life of his own. We will respect his individuality and in turn teach him to respect the interdependent web of life.

Presentation of Flower: Robbie and Cassi, you come with Fionn out of reverence for the mystery of life that you have seen in the birth of your child. In this dedication ceremony we give Fionn a flower. The flower symbolizes the beauty of Fionn’s young life. The flower also symbolizes the meaning of this dedication, for whether a flower is beautiful or not, whether it comes into full bloom or not, whether it fulfills itself or not depends on the nurture it receives. No flower grows alone, apart from the sun and rain and soil in which it grows. So too, no child grows alone.

Presentation of Water: In this dedication ceremony we bless you, Fionn, with water. Water symbolizes the meaning of your life to come. As water seeks the path of least resistance, may your life too, be filled with the easy way. May you rest in low, shaded valleys, and may you rush energetically through the many channels of life's experiences that await you. Like this water, may you be source of life giving energy to all whose lives you touch.

To The Parents: Robbie and Cassi, as parents of this child do you solemnly promise, that to the best of your abilities, you will instruct and train Fionn in the principles of right living?

Parents Respond: We do.


Do you promise that you will help Fionn to be a fearless, impartial, and reverent seeker after truth, beauty, and goodness?

Parents Respond: We do.

Will you affirm that Fionn is a sacred responsibility, as well as the embodiment of your love for one another? Will you dedicate yourselves anew to that way of life which will fill Fionn’s heart with memories of gladness and a sense of compassion for all others who travel life's wondrous journey?

Parents Answer: We will

To the Sibling: Emerson, as Fionn’s older brother, you will be the role model he looks up to. Although you are too young to understand now, your bond with your brother will be everlasting - continuing long after your parents are gone. May you always be united by respect, love and compassion for one another.

To The Guideparents: Jacob and Dung (pronounced YOUM), in consenting to become Guideparents to Fionn, you carry on an ancient custom. Will you continue to bear in mind your promise to befriend and guide and help Fionn as the need should arise?

Guideparents Respond: We will.

Charge to the Congregation: The minds and hearts of infants are as open to the wonders and worries of the universe as a vulnerable flower in bloom. As the essence of religion is to shape the person into someone whose heart and mind is aware of both but seeks wonder foremost, will you, as a congregation, commit yourselves to imbue in Fionn the values that shape our free, liberal, religious tradition? If so, say, "We will."

Congregation Responds: We will.

Charge to the Young People: As young people who have attended this church, you understand Unitarian Universalist religious values. Will you now pledge to Fionn that you will be an example for him, helping him to be a good Unitarian Universalist, and that you will do what you can to assure he receives the same love and friendship from this church as you do? If so, say, "We will."

Young People Respond: We will.

Closing: We close this service of dedication with thoughts of a future centered around Fionn and coming from a past that encompasses our own childhood. Let us aspire to keep from our past all that was good so that Fionn may grow from that starting place. And let us work at making the present an abundant source of excellence from which Fionn may develop a life rich and magnificent for all to behold.

In the words of Kenneth Patton:

Nothing is strange to the child for whom everything is new.
Where all things are new nothing is novel.
The child does not yet know what belongs and what does not;
therefore for him all things belong.
The ear of the child is open to all music.
His eyes are open to all arts.
His mind is open to all tongues.
His being is open to all manners.
In the child’s country there are no foreigners.

(From This World, My Home by Kenneth Patton)

Cheating Death, Cheating Life

Last night I got home from school at eleven and found a red-eyed, sniffling Emerson waiting for me at the front door. Apparently he had been crying for me for the last ten minutes, so I bent down to give him a kiss and listened to the string of babble that was the story of his evening. Then he wrapped his body around me in a koala hug and I carried him upstairs to bed.

After we giggled our way through a couple of books, I turned off the lights and snuggled in (we always stay in his bed until he falls asleep). As I lay there - listening to his breath get slower and feeling his cold feet poke around for a warm spot in the crook of my knees - I couldn't stop the stream of thoughts rolling through my head.

I thought about the NPR story I heard on a man who successfully predicted many of the major modern technological advances (such as the internet) before they happened. His prediction for our future now is that by 2045, humans will have merged with their technology and we will likely be able to overcome death itself. A lot of this prediction is based on computers so small they can go inside our brains and even blood streams, which - according to him - we are not far from right now.

I thought about the class on ending oppression I had just been in - especially the image of my teacher with his arms stretched out in a circle as he said, "This is the pie. When you get a raise at work, you praise God. But in order for you to have more of the pie, someone else has to have less. Your wealth is putting poor people in an early grave, do you think that's what God wants? How far are you willing to go to keep the poor from heading to early graves?"

(And keep in mind this is at the conservative ecumenical seminary in Detroit, not my liberal school in Chicago.)

I thought about the book I was reading on the environment. Even though it was written 10 years ago, it warns of the current ecological crisis and the disastrous results of waiting too long to make changes to save the ecosystem. I wonder if the author has keeled over from a coronary after witnessing what's unfolded in the 10 years since he published this book?

When I think about all these things, I can't help but feel humanity is like a ball catapulted into the air. In the history of the world as we currently know it, our existence has been short and our rise fast. And like a ball, we seem to be gathering speed with time. But now we are nearing the end of the arc, we are about to reach impact. What I don't know is whether that impact will be in the form of a positive, peaceful revolution of sorts, or something...catastrophic.

I am no philosopher by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm struggling with these ideas and feelings because laying in the blue glow of a toddler's nightlight, watching his dinosaur pajamas softly rise and fall, I feel completely responsible for bringing him into this world. I feel completely responsible for ensuring I did everything I could to create a future worthy of him and his brother...and every other child in the world who has parents watching them sleep and worrying about their future.

And yet I don't know what to do. I do things in fits and starts...I get motivated, inspired, energized...then I get discouraged, lazy, complacent.

Right now I am struggling to stay somewhere around the energized part of this cycle, which means I am being extremely annoying and self-righteous to everyone around me. Hopefully they will be patient with me and try to see what I see:

A tiny hand wrapped around my one finger. Holding on tightly....expecting.

If you're wondering if I've heard of the Winter Brothers....

So here's a conversation that occurs nearly every time we go out in public as a family:

John Doe: Wow, they've got some really white hair!

Me: Yep. It makes them very easy to spot in a crowd.

PAUSE - they wait for me to explain more, but depending on my mood and energy level, I may or may not give in right away. If I don't,

John Doe: Where did they get that hair from?

At this point I give in and explain.

John Doe: Two brothers, huh? Have you ever heard of the Winter Brothers?

Me: Yep.

PAUSE. If they knew someone once with albinism, they insert that story here. If not, we sit in awkward silence for a few moments.

Me: Yep, we're going to teach our boys how to sing and get their act on the road soon.

I laugh at my own joke and then search for a quick exit.


A few weeks ago this situation played out with a microwave salesman in Sears. He started out saying he recognized us although we had no idea who he was. (Since we spend most of our time walking around our small city with two white-haired boys in tow, this is pretty common. I imagine it must be what celebrities feel like - slightly flattered and violated all at the same time.)

This salesman followed me around the store while talking and finally backed me into a corner so I had little hope of escape. After the Winter Brothers comment, he explained that he knew their music well because he frequently sang their songs as a professional karaoke singer.

Me: Is that like the person who sings a few songs and gets people participating at karaoke bars?

Salesman: No, it's just me singing. People pay me to come to their parties and sing karaoke for a few hours.

Me: So it's just you and a karaoke machine?

Salesman: Yes.

I smile and listen with interest as he recounts his latest gigs, but secretly I wonder how a "professional karaoke singer" is any different than a regular singer who doesn't bother to memorize the words? The whole concept of paying someone to sing karaoke boggles my mind - like eating deep fried Twinkies or buying a Snuggie (seriously, if you turn it around, it's called a robe)

The salesman eventually asked me what I do professionally, so I told him about mothering and ministry. Many a wise minister has told me to make up a fake profession because telling people you are going into/are in the ministry opens up a whole can of worms. Unfortunately, I have yet to come up with a good alias (any suggestions?) and so I told the truth.

Since I am not ordained yet, I'm usually spared from people asking for advice or unburdening their life story on me. But even as a student, people hear ministry and almost always assume you belong to the same religion as them. This man wasn't any different, so I listened to several minutes of his "being saved" story and his journey to finding a Pentecostal church in the area. While I loved hearing his story, I could tell he wanted me to divulge a similar tale - but Pentecostal is about the furthest thing there is from Unitarian Universalism. We have "saved" stories of our own, but not in any form he would recognize.

Instead, I made some general remarks about religion that made him happy, then was relieved when the lights started turning off and a man came over the intercom to say they were closing.


I chose to go into ministry because I want to interact with a wide variety of people and be there to help them during the most vulnerable moments of their lives. I suppose as frustrating and draining as it can be to have the constant attention albinism brings, I've also met some interesting people along the way.

In seminary, we have a habit of labeling even the most mundane things as "our ministry" to make it easier to swallow. Don't like scrubbing the toilet? Think of it as your "cleaning ministry." So I suppose I should work harder at setting aside the internal eye-rolling and make my experiences with albinism part of my daily ministry...an opportunity to gently teach others, set a good example for my sons, and practice patience.

If nothing else, it's a great networking tool to meet people. Need entertainment for your next Bar Mitzvah or birthday party? Have I got a karaoke singer for you....

Scenes from Daily Life

Emerson handed me his bottle of water (the child is very well hydrated at all times) and indicated that he wanted more - even though it was half full. I knew he wanted me to add some juice for flavor, so I said, "Emerson, say 'juice.'" He gave out a guttural sound that resembled a German sneezing. I had to at least applaud his effort.

Robbie heard all this and started laughing.

"Emerson, your in-apptitude is so cute."

I burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

"Do you mean ineptitude? Gee, I wonder where he gets his difficulty with words from?"

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Before Fionn was born, I purchased as many new pj's as possible since I knew I'd be spending a lot of time in them after he was born. The other day I was wearing one pair that I scored at the Salvation Army. (They look like this except powder blue)

Robbie had seen them several times before, but with my mom as a captive audience, this time he announced that Blanche Devereux had called - she wanted her pajamas back.

My mom snorted her coffee and told me I should buy some fur-covered heels to complete the ensemble.

I'm not sure what concerns me more - that my husband doesn't appreciate my sense of style, or that he knows so much about the Golden Girls.

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Every Saturday I've been taking an intensive class at a local seminary entitled "Reformation History and Thought." I'm not a Christian Unitarian Universalist, but since my denomination is historically Christian, we have several history requirements that I need to fulfill. Needless to say, learning about 16th century theologians for 8 hours on a Saturday is enough to make anyone want to stab themselves in the head with a mechanical pencil (I've come close on a few occasions) Luckily my professor is a very enigmatic German woman who knows a lot of odd stories about Martin Luther and who makes humorous analogies every once in a while that help me stay awake.

For example, the other day she announced that "children are the perfect examples of the fact that we are born with original sin." For a split second I was horrified at this comparison...then I thought about my little caveman of a toddler throwing tantrums and I saw her point.

She also made an analogy that compared good people without sin to Jonathan or Granny Smith apples while people with sin are "crap-apples."

Her inapptitude is so cute.

Have Baby, Will Travel

Last week, Robbie had to travel to Boston on business, so Emerson and I got to tag along. We quickly realized this had come at the perfect time because our days of easy traveling are coming to an end. The week before, we spent a couple days “Up North” at the lake home of some relatives. I think all that time driving in the car and then being passed around from person to person finally motivated Emerson to move, because the moment we got home and set him on the floor, he was off. He’s known how to roll for some time now, but suddenly he decided to use this skill to explore. If we took our eyes off him for a minute, we’d find him playing with the houseplant or half stuck under the couch. And when he wasn’t busy rolling, he was using his voice to imitate cawing peacocks or incensed monkeys.

Yes, Emerson has reached a new stage I like to call “twist and shout.” My sweet, relatively quiet baby that we could take to fancy sushi restaurants or throw on a plane with little anxiety is rapidly disappearing. But overall, we are still fairly lucky considering what we put him through. Case in point - traveling in Boston during a heat wave.

Boston is an amazing town to visit no matter who you are, but it was especially exciting for me as a Unitarian Universalist ministry student. Not only is Boston the denomination’s headquarters and home to plenty of churches, it’s filled with UU history – from leaders of the Revolution like Thomas Jefferson to Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson himself. So after Robbie headed off to work and Emerson took a good nap at the hotel, I decided it would be fitting to start my sightseeing at the UU headquarters on historic Beacon Hill.

I strapped Emerson to me in a sling and began the long trek from hotel shuttle to commuter train to subway system and then through various lines to get Beacon Hill. As I emerged onto Boston Common, the 90-something degree heat and having a 16lb pound baby strapped to my body with several yards of fabric hit me immediately. Apparently it hit Emerson too because within seconds his little head bobbed forward and his body went limp with sleep.

I passed by a man on a bench who took one look at Emerson in the sling and called out “Ma’am, does that thing hurt the baby?” Several smart-ass comments came to mind, but instead I shook my head and pointed out that he was comfortable enough to be asleep. Apparently people make dumb comments about all sorts of things, not just albinism.

I proceeded to walk up and down the hill, looking at the signs and flags hanging from the beautiful brownstone buildings, but I didn’t see any sign of the UUA. Finally I called information for the address and discovered it was right where I had gotten off the subway. In fact, I had passed it about three times already! By the time I hoofed it back up there and realized it did in fact have a small golden plaque that read Unitarian Universalist Association, it was already closed for the day.

I spent the rest of the afternoon playing with Emerson in the Frog Pond in Boston Common, wandering around the Public Gardens, and visiting the various historic points. Robbie met up with us for dinner at a Thai restaurant, where the baby showed off his new busy-body skills by continuously grabbing at everything in sight. After eating, we decided that the commuter train station looked close enough to the hotel to walk back – at least that’s the way it appeared on the map. So we blew off trying to get back to the station in time for the last hotel shuttle and instead wandered around Beacon Hill some more.

Later, we arrived at the commuter station mere minutes after the last shuttle. We both felt confident as we walked across the enormous empty parking lot and onto the main street. But as we walked, we quickly realized we were in an industrial area that didn’t seem so familiar. With no signs of commercial “civilization” in sight, we were forced to keep walking….and walking….and walking. The road was pitch black except the neon signs of scattered industrial buildings, semi trucks rolled past every few minutes, and in between the buildings were long stretches of overgrown fields.

Luckily Emerson was blissfully unaware of our rising panic since he has passed out on Robbie’s shoulder long before. It was an eerie place – too remote for wandering criminals but I imagined a good place to run into a crazy hobo. This thought was incredibly amusing and yet just scary enough that when a small animal rustled in the field that we were walking by, I actually shrieked in terror.

Finally, we walked into a commercial area and Robbie recognized one of the restaurants as the one he had eaten lunch at earlier that day with his coworkers. Instead of following our gut instinct to head left, he decided he had driven to the restaurant from the other direction, so we turned right. However, within a few minutes, we were back into the industrial zone. Before getting ourselves into worse trouble, we decided to stop at a hotel and call for a cab.

Right before the cab arrived, Robbie bought a bottle of water with what little cash we had left. The woman at the front desk had assured him that if the cab didn’t take credit cards, there was an ATM we could stop at on the way.

When we got in and explained to the driver what had happened, we quickly learned two things: 1) We had actually walked the right direction up until we turned right instead of left and 2) We were not all that far from our hotel. Later, we also learned that the station on the map that we had been referencing was in fact very close – it was just a different station that had been closed down for several years.

Anyway, of course this cab didn’t take credit cards, so the driver pulled into an ATM in the strip mall and Robbie jumped out. As we waited, he told me stories about his long work hours, his horrible case of sciatica, and the piece of gray, frostbitten meat he found in the station freezer and was currently using as an ice pack. I sympathized the best I could while simultaneously wondering what health codes applied to unthawing meat in taxi cabs and why Robbie was taking so long getting the money.

My worst fears were realized when Robbie returned empty-handed and explained that the card had an error. There was another machine in the hotel lobby, so we drove the rest of the way and I waited in the cab as Robbie ran in again. Another long wait and another bizarre conversation passed before he returned empty-handed. The money was in the bank, but for some reason none of our cards would work.

We desperately scrapped together all the small bills and loose change we could find and miraculously found the exact amount of the fare, no more no less. We apologized profusely to the driver for not having enough for a tip and he was very good-natured about it. I sent lots of best wishes his way to fix his sciatica. Or at least for him to find a real ice pack.

We finally stumbled into our hotel room, exhausted, embarrassed and shaken up by the card problem. But our little Emerson was wide awake again and as energetic and happy as we were beat. I flopped down on the bed and played airplane with him above my head, grateful for his squeals of laughter after our bizarre night. Then, as if perfectly timed, he smiled down at me and let loose a stream of spit-up right into my face and hair – and wide-open mouth.

The next day, we did find out the bank cards had been fixed, so we weren’t forced to beg on the streets as stranded travelers. And we did eventually get to see the UUA headquarters - lingering as long as possible in the air-conditioned book store. We also played in the fountains and lay out in the grass of Harvard Yard, ate Italian food in the North End, ordered fresh seafood in America’s oldest restaurant, and of course spent an entire day dragging Emerson through the heat so we could see the historic sites on the "Freedom Trail."

But my favorite highlights of the trip were listening to little kids talking with heavy Boston accents (on par with a kid who looked like a mini Tony Soprano speaking Italian in the North End) and taking a water taxi through the harbor to the airport. Through it all, Emerson remained mostly patient and good-natured, and we spent a lot of time and kisses thanking him for it.