Jesus, take the wheel.

I am out of my depth with this upcoming christening. I was raised in a resolutely atheist family and when I was younger, I was obnoxiously dogmatic (irony, heh) about faith and how stupid it was because COME ON. The earth is only 5000 years old and humans were hunting dinosaurs? Pull the other one.
 
Now though, I have a more gentle view on people who believe in God. I understand the desire to feel that something is presiding over life, and that in times of strife it gives people a lot of comfort to feel that it's all part of some master plan. Then, there's the sense if community that comes with organised religion - though it must be said that in rural Ireland, this can be a double-edged sword. GOSSIP IS THE DEVIL'S RADIO.

But truthfully (and here's where I alienate my non-existent readership for good), I can't shake the notion that it's some sort of cosmic crutch. There doesn't need to be a reason for why we're here. Just being here is amazing enough when one considers that astonishingly complex conditions that have had to align themselves for us to exist. This is usually where my religious friends pipe up that, exactly, impossible coincidence don'tyouthink?! And they raise their eyebrows like "Bet God is making a lot more sense NOW, eh heathen? BOOM!"

Well, no. Nature is pretty fucking complicated you guys. I used to go out with a physicist who explained some of the finer points of the universe and seriously, the symmetry and beauty of our solar system alone is pretty stunning. My point is that there are more plausible and equally beautiful explanations for our existence that don't involve someone using ribs to create women and zombie messiahs.

(Like my new "gentle view"? Look, I'm a lot better than I used to be. It's a process).

So when J and I had our daughter, I casually asked him if he'd want to get her christened, knowing as I do that he is a lapsed Catholic and fully expecting him to snort in derision and the idea. You know what's coming - he said yes. And so it began.
 
Let me track back some years here and touch on my last marriage. I hated his parents and they hated me in equal measure, so any opportunity to stick the boot in was seized by both parties. Childish yeah, but whatever. And the end result was obviously misery on all sides.
 
This time, though, I have a Good Thing going here. I love J's family. His parents are awesome. His brothers and sister are the best aunt and uncles a kid could ask for. And I'm shocked to see that I don't want to rock the boat by deriding their faith and refusing to christen their first grandchild.

And really, if they want to pour a little water over my baby's head at the baptismal font, what do I care? Maybe while they're at it, they can get in her chubby little neck folds where all her milk ends up, festering away. (Flippancy is how I deal with discomfort as you can see). So it's not the ceremony itself that bothers me (though the part where they make us promise to raise her in the Catholic faith skeeves me out; I can't shake the notion that I'll end up shouting "THE HELL I WILL!" and legging it out of the country church).

It's more the far reaching ramifications of all this. A christening today, a confirmation tomorrow, a Catholic school, a NUNNERY?! Where will it end?

When I was back in Ireland in December, J's mother and I paid a visit to the priest to arrange this whole debacle. I have never sat in the kitchen of an Irish country village priest's house, but it was everything you'd expect. One thing that surprised me is he didn't ask why J and I aren't married. Phew. Times, they are a-changing I guess.

After the thing had been arranged for February, we headed into the small town to shop for her christening gown. Apparently, her Rolling Stones logo'd onsie will not do. And so the bizarre world of baby Jesus bride wedding dresses was laid out before my sarcastic eye. These ...THINGS. Highly flammable sateen that feels like the tags sewn into the back of t-shirts, all ruffles and voile and bonnets. One was selected for a handsome sum and I cooed politely. See what I mean? When will this railroad stop?

So here's a question for everyone: have you ever been in a similar situation? At what point does being polite morph into being a pussy and not putting your own views forward as equally important?

I told you I could go on about this one.