Broomsticks and Smegma

        Like so many other parts of motherhood, my first ritual with the Fox was not what I expected. I call myself a witch, sometimes say "pagan." Mostly because I am looking for a tag with fewer syllables than “earth-based spirituality.”

Also because it pisses me off that the Roman empire did such a good job of branding pagans as bad guys.

So it is appropriate that the first ritual we did was a broom ritual. We were sweeping the kitchen. This is one my mommy proudnesses, when I succeed at turning a chore into a game that we enjoy together. The Fox pushes the chairs into the hall and then I use my big plastic broom to sweep up all the dog hair and mud and cracker crumbs and general smegma. The Fox uses his little broom to sort of spread it towards the dustbin. We were in the midst of this yesterday morning when I   suddenly felt it, that opening inside that says “ritualize.” If you don’t know exactly what I mean by this, let me just say that my favorite definition of a ritual is a physical act with an invisible meaning. It could be lighting a candle to remember a loved one, it could be cleaning out your desk when you are ready for a new challenge at work. And it could be sweeping out the old feelings along with the old dirt.

(BTW: This would be a good reason for brooms to be associated with witches. But really, it’s all about beer. Back in the day, ladies who made enough homebrew that they had extra for sale would hang a broom over their door in the universal “belly up to the bar” symbol of medieval villages. Throw in a wort kettle and their entrepreneurial invention of a tall pointy hat, which allowed the ladies to be spot-able when they sold beer at fairs. Abracadabra! You’ve got your archetypal witch.)

(But I digress)

So there we were, the mom who wants to teach her son what I consider to be some basic life skills: How to sweep a floor. And how to let things go. Old feelings, old ways that don’t work anymore. Since I got back from the FAFAWOF, I’m ready and brooms are great for both of these things.  Using a broom can be a pushing around of dirt or it can be a Sweep. This time, we did a little of both. I think. I said “Honey, when we sweep out the dirt, we can sweep out the old feelings too.” He looked at me for a sec. “Like sad,” I said. “Sad.” He said. Then I worried that I was telling him that sweeping made me sad, but I think he got it. Sweep it out. Sweep it out. Then I got all excited. I can do ritual with the Fox! We should make him a broom out of sticks and string! That will be so fun! Then we can light candles and talk about god and trees and ­– rrt. I realized that in this vision we have a toddler with a bundle of kindling and an open flame in my house.

Not so much.

So we just swept and talked about feelings and dirt. This lasted about three minutes and we used the same old plastic brooms we always use. I was sort of envisioning that my first ritual with him would be a little more magical, a little less everyday stuff. But maybe that’s part of the lesson. It’s so easy to make creating sacred moments into such a big deal that I never do it. I mean, whoever it is that you pray to, wouldn’t it be better to incorporate lots of little prayers throughout the day, little moments of being present and connected?

Wouldn’t that be a ritual worth passing on?

M and I are not on exactly the same page on things godly, but we have a good common ground and this book has a lovely, non-denominational, kid-friendly way to celebrate the seasons: