If God was a Carrot.

‘Mummy, did you make me out of spare parts?’

I’ve had a few questions like this recently.

He is becoming more inquisitive about where he was made, how he got out of my belly and exactly what God’s role is in everything.

‘Mummy, if taxi drivers think they own the road, but they don’t, is it God who owns it?’

We never spoke about God before he started school.

Not intentionally, I didn’t intentionally not introduce him to the lord almighty, I guess it was just that religion or the greater universe and it’s meaning didn’t play a huge part in our day to day lives, so the subject never came up.

Addison was baptised as a catholic. The Irish one is a catholic and I am, well, I don’t know what I am.

I was brought up a protestant, so on paper it would probably show that is what I am.

But what category I officially sit in?

I just don’t know.

I am a wife, a mother, a shopaholic, a depressive, a frazzled stodge gobbler, a girl, a customer service manager, a dog lover, a sarcastic bitch, a chocoholic, a ginaholic, a good friend, a little sister, a wannabe writer, a flake and a dreamer, to name but a few.

I also know I am not a racist, I can’t abide homelessness, it is the cause that breaks my heart each and every time I see somebody on the street, I know I would give my last pound to somebody in need and I know I would never question other people’s religious beliefs, everyone has the right (god given?) to believe in whatever provides them comfort, in my opinion.

But when it comes to actually believing in God?

I just don’t know.

I would like to believe, but I just don’t know.

(Is he going to strike me down now?)

But Whatever I believe or don’t believe, I am not particularly religious.

I have never read the bible and I don’t know what Moses was doing in the bulrushes.

Addison now attends a catholic school and so now, very much so, God plays a part in our everyday lives.

‘Mummy I don’t want to go to school, assembly is so boring. It’s all about god this and god that and we have to sit really still, and my bum itches.’

He makes me laugh daily.

Do I need to thank God for that? Perhaps I do.

‘Mummy, if I don’t eat my carrots, is it God watching or Father Christmas?’

‘Mummy, do you believe in God?’

Some of the questions I am not ready to answer.

‘Yes Addison I made you out of spare parts.’

‘From a dead guy?’

‘No Addison, brand new parts, would you like a biscuit?’

And between the laughter and the love, some of the questions I answer, I answer not with what I truly believe, but with what he needs to hear.

He needs to know that what he is being taught at school as verbatim, I trust in, and I guess as his mum, I want to give him the comfort I felt as a child, that someone was looking out for me from above, even if it isn’t what I might believe now. What I don’t want him to feel is confusion.

‘God is always watching us Addison, looking out for us, keeping us safe (because wouldn’t that be nice?) but it is Father Christmas who is watching you not eating those carrots right now Addison, God is much more high level.’

‘Mummy?’

‘Yes Addison?’

‘Why did God Kill Meanie Fishy, Bex, Great Grandad and Uncle Jakey?’

And some questions don’t make me laugh, some questions test me.

Maybe I shouldn’t have spoken about my brother quite so often, quite so soon, but as much as I wanted to protect my son from death, I also didn’t want to ignore the fact his uncle had existed and was loved.

‘God wanted them back with him in heaven Addison. God needed uncle Jakey and great granddad to be angels and look after other angels, Uncle Jakey and Great Grandad had a very special job to do in heaven.’

‘Mummy?’

‘Yes Addison?’

‘Will god take you?’

How would you answer that question?

I don’t want to say no never, because what if I get flattened by a bus in the morning? (Which reminds me I need to put an underwear wash on) but neither do I want to say maybe, and fill his head with worry. I want to be honest and real, protect him and yet provide him comfort. But if I believe in evolution, or aliens, or the matrix, is any of this honest and relevant to us anyway?

This parenting lark is hard.

‘One day Addison, but hopefully not until I am very old and very wrinkly.’

‘But you are very old and very wrinkly.’

And I am back to the laughter.

‘I am going nowhere Addison. Now eat your carrots.’

Maybe it is because I have faced my own mortality before, or maybe it is because I suffer with clinical depression and am just a horribly morbid idiot, but after that round of questioning I decided to sit down and write Addison a letter, in case I die.

It is in his scrapbook.

Is that horribly morbid?

I wrote about how much I love him, how he could never disappoint me and how if I am ever not here I want him to follow the path that brings him the most happiness. I wrote mostly about how much I love him and will do until the end of time.

‘Mummy?’

‘Yes Addison?’

‘Did your willy fall off? Cos girls don’t have willy’s anymore do they? Did God take all the girls willy’s to heaven to be angels too?’

God give me strength.

And Thank you for the laughter.

Anyone have any ideas on how I can get him to eat his carrots?

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6 Comments on “If God was a Carrot.

  1. I’m not a believer/beleeber (but I am a stodge gobbler) … but having being a parent for 20 years I know that all you can do is answer with whatever you feel is the right answer at that precise moment. Your answers will change as he gets older, but then his questions will. Fuck me, it’s never-ending. Good luck with that!

  2. Cara was about 2 or 3 when she asked where my dad was. She had a Grandma and a Grandad and a Grandma. We were in the car off to see my mum. Dad having died in 1998. Wasn’t a question I was expecting….trying to drive and come up with a suitable reason without doing the “he’s dead” thing was a hard one – especially as I was on my own and couldn’t do the, “ask mummy”.

    So, as she’d been in hospital to have operations on her hip…I used that.

    I said that grandad had been ill, went to hospital but unlike you, where they were able to make things better, they couldn’t with grandad and he’s had to go to a special hospital – but we can’t see him as he’s too ill to be seen.

    “Ok” comes from the car seat and we continue on our journey.

    3 days later, she’s talking to her other grandma on the phone and she repeats the conversation word for word….

    The “willy” conversations have been somewhat squirmy for me – I have two daughters…whilst watching my wife double up in laughter at my embarrassment at being asked things, I try to give an honest answer…without laughing…

    Having kids is hard enough – worse as there is no manual…but let’s face it how many men would read the manual in the first place!!

  3. Religion is shit. One day I’ll tell you the story about my Great Aunt and how she thought my daughter deserved to get Cancer. Yes, really…

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