When I say Non-Catholic, you say Meat . . . Go Meat!

(Warning: Yes I'm still going on and on about my vacation with the in-laws that happened almost 2 weeks ago. Give me a break, it offered me a wealth of subject matter and I've either been in bed, at the Pediatrician's office or on the toilet for the last week and a half and trust me - you don't want more details about that!)

I’m not Catholic. I’m not anything – at least religion wise and quite frankly I’d like it to stay that way. When Matt tells me he would like to get the kids baptized someday I just tell him that I can quote some scripture or something the next time I rinse the shampoo out of their hair. I’m not really one for rituals and rules or organized religion at all really and while I someday might concede for my husband's sake, I currently have no problem with living a very happy, secular life.

However, the majority of my husband’s family is Catholic and the reason for our trip to visit them was to be in attendance at my beloved nephew’s baptism/confirmation/first communion. Don’t ask me what all of those mean. All it meant to me was 3 hours in a church trying to keep one kid from screaming and the other from using his “outside voice” when he repeatedly asked, “Momma, why is that man wearing a dress?” “It’s a robe dear, let’s use our quiet voice now, OK?”

I was happy to do it for my nephew though because I love him and he's a great kid and although I’m not religious myself, I’m not one to stifle anyone else’s religious practices or beliefs. That being the case I don’t like my own non-religious beliefs to be stifled either and so I was very happy to stir the pot on the Friday before Easter “THE HOLIEST DAY OF THE YEAR” by eating meat.

My brother-in-law being the fair and democratic gentleman, went against his strict Catholic grandparent’s suggestion and ordered one pepperoni pizza amongst the cheese pizzas for the consumption of the non-Catholics. And I must confess that sensing the grandparent’s discontent with the mere presence of meat on that holiest of days, I might have gone a little overboard and made sure to repeatedly ask my children if they’d like a slice of pizza with MEAT on it, or if they’d like the plain old soggy cheese one.

When one of the Catholic nephews reached for the pepperoni and was scolded, I loudly announced, “Your Aunt Amy isn’t Catholic so she doesn’t have to worry about such things.” And seeing the look of disgust on Grandpa’s face I really had to fight the urge to stand up, pump my fist in the air and yell out a hearty “GO MEAT” like they do in those Hillshire Farms commercials.

Does that make me a bad person? Probably, but I’m okay with that. What do you expect from the non-baptized?