I performed Molly’s little naming ceremony tonight. It was simple and sweet, and I’m overwhelmingly glad I did it. I started with a “Heidi’s mom ritual”: light every single candle in the house. We used to do this as a way of just grooving out with each other. When I was young, we’d pop on an album or CD and sing and talk. She’d braid my hair. When I was a young adult, we’d light the candles & then get high. Then we’d do the music thing, and once my hair grew back after my Sinead O’Connor phase, she’d braid my hair and we’d giggle, then get the munchies and raid the kitchen.
So. We lit all the candles as well as some nice incense, and I stripped us both down- skyclad’s the only way to fly. I read the prayers I’d prepared. The full text is here, if you’re curious. When I got to the part where I officially give her her name, I scooped her up into my arms, got emotional and reverent, and she peed all over me. At the exact instant I said her name. So I giggled and told her she’d baptized Mommy. We finished, with me tearing up reading her the Charge of the Goddess– I get weepy when it’s been a while since I read it, plus, reading it to my daughter the first time was beautiful. Then I got her diapered, got me dressed, and opened the door and noticed I had filled the room with tons of smoke from the incense & candles. I swooped her away to the porch, turning on fans as we went. She never got a cough or anything, but I feel like a dolt. Bad witchy mommy.
So now she’s had her name officially spoken in circle, to a suitably female deity(-ies) and I’m all ready to priss her up in a pink dress tomorrow and take her to the Church of Men, Manliness, and All Things Masculine , also known as Prophets with Penises*, for her secondary, for-Papaw naming/blessing/thing.
*I sincerely don’t mean to be a bitch to members of the LDS church, or any other Christians for that matter-but you gotta know it’s a weirdo experience for a feminist pagan. Likewise, I’m sure you think I’m a nutjob and possibly wish I’d shave my legs.