The Reluctant Godmother

Truth: I did not hesitate for a moment to assume the mantle of Godmother when my dear friend asked. I already think of them all as family and have known and loved both boys since they were practically conceived.

But what does being a Godmother really mean? Looking for cultural icons or role models leaves you a little short. There’s the fairy godmother, popping up most famously perhaps in Cinderella to transform our princess-in-the-rough into belle of the ball. For a few hours at least. Not very good on the follow-through. And of course The Godfather. And there are a few dozen jokes you can twist out of the Cardone-Corleone matchup – trust me, I’ve heard them! At least Godparents are not uniformly evil like stepmothers, stepfathers and stepsisters. By the way, a Godmother is also a cocktail with Amaretto and vodka – yum. But I get the feeling introducing the GS to liquor is not high on the approved list of Godmother responsibilities!

According to tradition, the Godmother (or father) would become the guardian of the child in the event the parents died of the plague, or the Inquisition or some other malady. That’s why the traditional gift to a godchild was a silver spoon or cup: the idea being that if the parents died they could use the silver as a means of support. In practical terms I don’t know whether that would support a child, or just pay for your departure to a nunnery or an upgrade to 2 bowls of gruel at the orphanage. In modern days, the silver tradition carries on. The same meaning underlies that other classic godchild gift: the US Savings Bond. Would I take care of those boys if, God forbid, something should happen to my friends? Without a moment’s hesitation. But that’s not the point. Today of course, the role legal guardian is a separate and distinct honor.

So is it just about the religious support? The other traditional responsibility – which makes sense since you are named as part of the baptism or christening – is to guide the child and help save its soul from eternal damnation. Raised Catholic, I remember many a baptism where the parents affirmed that they reject Satan and all his works. But what would that mean for me, a non-practicing anything, lapsed Catholic being asked to stand up for the GS in a Presbyterian church?

As it turns out, my role in the actual ceremony turned out to be nothing more than witness, formally. I stood up there at the font with the whole family — in this church, it’s really a stage and not an altar — and watched as the squirmy guy in the silk suit had his forehead doused with water. I didn’t actually agree to DO anything. But then again…I did. As Godmother I know I have a special responsibility. But what? How is that different from being the Auntie Sara I already am?

First off, let’s make a distinction between the Aunt or Uncle by blood title and the Auntie or Uncle becomes an active and loving presence in a little one’s life. Being Auntie is the coolest job on earth. You get to teach them naughty, rebellious things that will annoy mom and dad and prepare them for surviving the playground. Great stuff like “The Song That Doesn’t End”. You serve as confidante in all matters and give solace and advice in a way that mom and dad cannot. With any luck, you can help keep them out of real horrible lifechoices when they inevitably hit their teens and rebel against mom and dad. You get to play and inspire – but avoid the harsh disciplining. You’re an adult who doesn’t have to be untouchable like a parent, and that is a fantastic honor to have. You get to buy them wildly age-inappropriate gifts, feed them tons of sugary-snacks on the sly, get the sugar-high good and running to hilarious heights – and then leave before the crash!

But Godmother? To me, it’s formally assuming a role as part of the family. It’s being assured invites to graduation, inclusion on the snapshot updates. I’ve made a promise to be there, and support him, and love him…and his brother. In this day and age, the families we create are sometimes closer than the ones we share a name with, and we tend to be closer in sharing values and lifestyles since we choose them. I happen to love my own wacky family like mad. But being Godmother – to me – is agreeing to be part of another one. Saying yes was the easiest thing in the world.

Remember: “you can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose”. Unless you’re hanging out with your little nephews, in which case you can gain serious street cred by attempting it.

Lately I’ve been on a baking binge. A muffin baking binge to be precise. To date, I’ve tinkered with banana-nut, carrot-nut, carrot-nut-with-Meyers-rum-soaked-Thompson-raisins, strawberry-oatmeal, strawberry-lemon, peanut-butter-banana, PB&J, and blueberry-lemon. I say tinker because I’ve tried to play with the balance and make them low fat (classic substitution of applesauce for part of the fat), using whole-wheat flour, flaxseed meal, cutting back on the sugar. So, why the obsession with muffins? I couldn’t get anyone to sign up to be the guinea-pig taster of cookies, brownies or cake. Everyone is watching their intake. But a muffin? Made with healthy ingredients and some fruit and veg and fiber? Well – that’s as guiltfree as anything that will ever come out of my oven! And not to toot my horn but they are dee-lish! No pics…I wasn’t that coordinated.

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!