My family is not very religious. My ex is Protestant (but basically agnostic), I am Jewish (but basically agnostic), and our son is part-Protestant, part-Jewish, basically agnostic, with a Jewish godmother and a Muslim godfather (me and my ex’s respective best friends). If you followed all of that, nicely done.

Anyway, I am generally highly intolerant of most incarnations of religion – mainly the theology and any form of proselytizing. Having been raised Jewish, I was taught to fully question all ideas put before me (even from my own religion) and always ask “why?” Above all, I was taught never to try and convince others to follow my own religious beliefs simply because *I* thought they were right. People needed to reach their own, informed decisions.

Knowing that background, you may find it interesting that my son attends daycare in a church. I thought long and hard before enrolling him, but in the end, decided that they had the best program with regard to structure, education, and nurturing environment. They have chapel twice a week, say grace before meals, and talk about Christian holidays and “god.” As he is only two, I don’t see much harm in this right now, but as he gets older, I will certainly want to be thoughtful about what religious information he is receiving and from whom.

I’ve been asked repeatedly to donate to the school, which is run by (and housed in) the church. I feel funny giving money to the school, because I know some of it is going to the church. I try to avoid this internal anxiety by purchasing toys / learning materials and donating them directly to the classrooms, so I can be assured where my money is going. Tonight, though, they are hosting a highly anticipated fundraiser – a Wild West-themed carnival – and have been recruiting volunteers all week.

I had successfully avoided the sign-up sheet (which was tactfully sent to each family with a list of which parents had / had not already volunteered, thus attempting to publicly shame us into participation) until yesterday. As I was leaving, the volunteer coordinator caught me in the hallway and inquired as to whether I had signed up yet. Feeling on the spot, I admitted no, I hadn’t and hesitantly penciled myself in to run the church carnival ring-toss booth.

So there you have it. This Jew’s Shabbat evening will be spent raising money for her local church. Wild.

It is Day 3 of The Visit from my mother and grandmother and somehow, my head hurts worse than it did yesterday. I’m three coffees and four Advil in right now, and my ex has a bottle of vino on hand for later this evening (though I think I may still be averse to alcohol after last weekend’s escapades). Somebody help me.

This morning, my grandmother decided not take a taxi the five blocks to my apartment like she did yesterday. It would have been silly to waste money on such a short distance. Instead, my grandmother went to the coffee shop on the corner of the street and asked if anyone happened to be headed this direction. Some young, unsuspecting poor soul admitted he was going to be driving the tenth of a mile by my place and so my grandmother *hitched a ride* with him.

I arrived home from work early, as I felt bad being in the office when they had flown all this way to visit me. What thanks did I receive? Why, my mother announcing (in front of my ex, no less) that she had not packed enough underwear for the three day trip and needed to “borrow” a pair of mine. I put borrow in quotations because she is taking it, not borrowing - there is no way in hell those underwear are going back on my body. “Just give me whatever you don’t wear anymore,” she said. “I don’t care what they look like.”

So I did.

Four pairs of my underwear later, my mother finally decided on one she liked enough.

My ex, sensing my not-so-subtle exasperation and whispers of “I want to kill myself” kindly offered to cook dinner for us, so that I could get some work done in peace while Thing One and Thing Two play with Gavin. Out of gratitude to him, I’m providing the link to a new site he’s been working on, called United for One Cause. It’s the new widget in my right-hand sidebar and it’s actually a pretty cool concept. Check it out, if you’re so inclined.

So it’s Tuesday afternoon and here I sit with a massive headache. Today is Day 2 of The Visit (from my mother and grandmother). Here is a brief recap of some of the things that have occurred in the past 24 hours:

1. The first thing my mother said upon seeing me was, “You’re too skinny.”
2. On Day 1, they locked themselves out of the apartment they were staying in.
3. They arrived at my place on Day 1 without the keys I had given them.
4. I was at work when they arrived (and without my keys, anyway, as I had given them my set. Thankfully, my ex let them in).
5. They “accidentally” taught Gavin the phrase “You’re stupid!”
6. Gavin has repeated said phrase approximately once per hour.
7. My grandmother decided she was unable to walk the five blocks from the apartment she is staying in to get to my place, so she ordered a taxi.
8. While shopping this afternoon in a store just minutes from my office, my grandmother loudly initiated a discussion about her bodily functions.
9. I have heard the same three stories ten times. Each.
10. The entire Visit has been peppered with melodious bickering between them.

Right now, they are at a coffee shop. I am enjoying the respite.