Sunday evening

It's finally quiet on Sunday evening. I have not maimed Rowan today. Wanted to, but didn't. I used to think that it was my job as a parent to be there for my children, give them every opportunity for growth, teach them to learn and all that other jazz. I now know that this is not possible. I don't know if I'm trying as hard as I can, but I know I don't have anything left. I'll aim for better, but I think I'll have just enough gas to help them survive to adulthood with a fair amount of functionality built in. I've decided that I will participate in a "matching funds" program for my children. For every dollar they feel they need to use on therapy I will contribute a dollar of my own up to a limit that will be based on whatever hyperinflation is occurring at the time. With any luck, the therapist will accept payment in chickens. Or cats. Or children.

Church was excruciating today. There was a guy talking about his dog. He started out with the things he trains his dog to do, but then he proceeded to tell us that "we need to "sit and stay" in Sunday school". Wait, what? I thought he was done with the awkward comparison, but he then talked about how we need to "fetch" things for the Lord. I'm very religious, but this is not only nutty, it's demeaning to the whole idea of following Christ. I don't follow Jesus because I won't get a doggie treat if I don't, I do it because it's the right thing to do and I know that Jesus is as real of a thing as I can count on. Mascara will eventually fail me. So will ice cream, the car battery, my gym membership and my spanks higher power(TM). However, when the spanks(TM) fail, someone will be maimed. Maybe I'll feel them start to go and point myself at Rowan.

I don't know how this post swerved into a religious testimony; I guess it's a Sunday thing.