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• Things I have learned and believe as a result of being the parent of two children
• Things I have learned and believe as a result of my own experience as a human being

Turns out that I didn’t cover all of the things that I’ve learned about gender in that post so here is another installment…

A is just about to finish up his first year in school. This can’t possibly be. It seems like the first day was just last week.

Not long after the school year started, we started to notice the influence that school had on him when it came to gender. Now before I go on, let me just say that he goes to a very open and accepting school. A school where he is not the only child of two lesbian parents. A school where kids can dye their hair whatever color pleases them. A school that doesn’t box kids in based on anything, let alone gender. But, inevitably he started to make comments about gender that seemed to be influenced by an outside source. Things like only boys can do certain things. Only boys are allowed in his room (being the only boy in the house, that didn’t got over too well for him). You get the idea.

We didn’t freak out. We knew it was coming. The influence of gender roles in our society is strong. So, we took this opportunity to talk about gender more with the goal being to help him frame the things that he heard at school. We gave examples of boys that he knows with long hair and girls with short hair. We talked about our family structure and other families that we know. We asked him questions about his own gender and preferences. He is clear (for now) that he is male. He wants people to know he is a boy and he makes choices that are consistent with that. For example, he prefers short hair (at least on the sides and back, his new thing is “long in the middle” which he now clips or wears in a unicorn style ponytail or multiple Mohawk style spikes).

When asked about his sister (who currently identifies as “princess”), he says that she is a girl. When asked about Mama-that-stays-home (a.k.a. my wife), he says that she is a girl. When asked about Mama-that-goes-to-work, he says, “something in between.”

Something in between! Can we just stop all the fuss around the world about gender identity and let kids solve the labels problem for us? Kids are great because they don’t take offense to gender or see why someone should be offended by being misgendered (take for example a conversation I had with a little girl at Disney World many years ago: Walt Disney World Gay Days 2010). People are what they are. Some people are this or that and some are something in between. Okay, fine. Who cares?

I remember the first time we posed the question to A. Both mamas were reading him a bedtime story (most likely as a way to have some discussion around the new found gender stereotypes that he was expressing). This is where the conversation went:

A: I like Mama [M] better.

Mama[A]: Why?

A: Because she’s in between a mom and a dad.

Obviously, this was just about the best answer possible. I was not at all offended by this statement. Both because it was an innocent statement and because it is entirely accurate. I carried him (and his sister) in my belly. I gave birth to them. I breastfed them both beyond two years. But, I also am the Mama that goes to work. I wear ties and bow-ties. I play video games and read comic books with him. Something in between pretty much covers it.

Self care is about feeling better and this is a story about getting better at feeling better. Let’s just get this out there. I am terrible at self care. I could say that I don’t have enough time between work and kids and everything else. I could say it’s because I was never taught the importance of self care. Regardless, the fact that I am writing this means that I am about 100 times better that where I started (nowhere).

I don’t at all know all there is to know. But here’s what I’ve learned so far…

• There are some prerequisites. First of all. you have to want to feel better and be well. If you don’t, it won’t work. Also, you need to have some self-awareness. You just do. You need to be able to recognize that you aren’t well or that you are feeling stressed or whatever else you may feel…
• Self care is different for everyone. What regulates or recharges one person may be completely different than another. I am the kind of person that has a hard time sitting still, relaxing, being chill. I also have a lot of anxiety surrounding my environment. There is no way that I can recharge in a messy room. It just won’t happen. Just knowing there are things that need to be done even will prevent me from relaxing. So, for me a huge self care activity is making a list of to-dos (i.e. straightening the house, cleaning the kitchen, taking out the trash) and then identifying an activity I want to do (i.e. writing, reading, etc.) and completing my to-do list so I can enjoy the activity.
• You have to put yourself above everything else. In the world of family, kids, work, and more, it is easy put yourself aside due to (lack of) time, others’ needs, or whatever else. For me, I have to remind myself that without (the well version of) myself, those other things will start to fall apart, I won’t do my best work, I’ll get snippy with the kids, my relationships will suffer.
• Self care takes time and practice. At least for me, you don’t just decide in your head one day that you are going to practice good self care and poof, it happens. It can take time to figure out what activities will help. For me, it depends on the moment, the mood, the level of stress, anxiety, depression.
• People don’t talk about self care. Well, too bad. I’m talking about it.

So, here’s what it really looks like for me. I’m chugging along in life. Slowly, almost unnoticed, I start to develop a tiny bit of worry. It’s not even there really. But, it is. My every interaction is framed by it. Maybe a petty argument occurs. My mood is affected by these little negative things that are happening. I start to get preoccupied. It doesn’t matter what the tiny bit of worry was that started this whole thing. It’s now a different and much bigger bit of worry. It may even be full on anxiety. Maybe my wife asks me, “What’s wrong?” I say, “Nothing.” A couple of days pass and this is usually where I start to realize that I need to do something for myself (I aspire to realize this about eight sentences back). So, I make time. I tell my wife I need it (she’s painfully supportive every time, mostly because she knew two days ago). Alas, I take a walk. I read a book or paint a picture. Sometimes I put together puzzles or read comic books. I do whatever it is that I need to do to feel better.

What do you do to help yourself? Do you experience a similar cycle? How do you take care of your mental health?

Spoiler alert, Wonder Woman is a strong, powerful, thoughtful woman and the message of the movie is one of the power of love, good vs. evil, and women kick ass. As the movie starts out, you see a lush island, Themyscira, full of partially (scantily, shall I say) clothed women sparring with weapons. If you’re like me, you’ll swoon, and that is before you realize that Claire, I mean Robin Wright, is among them…

And that is just the beginning. Sure, the heroine falls in love with the male co-star, and there is lots of fighting, exploding, and several male ‘helpers’ in her journey to save the world (there is a message about teamwork and everyone having value somewhere in there). But, ultimately, she is a woman in a world surrounded by men, men in power, men telling her what to do and what not to do, and she gives zero fucks. At one point, there is outrage as she slips into a room filled with men discussing uber important things and the simple point is made, “what do you mean women cannot go into the Parliament?” Unacceptable. Then she’s walking through the front line bunkers and encounters a woman and baby that no one is helping, she stops, shrugs off the men around her telling her to focus, climbs out of the bunker, walks across the field, and takes the other side. Seriously, no fucks.

There are elements of feminism throughout and moments where even now I’m left replaying the scenes and connecting the feminist dots. There are moments where she questions herself and her abilities (I guess it’s not just me, female superheros are not immune to impostor syndrome either). Moments where she folds to her emotions, and moments where she outwits, outfights, and out-everythings the men around her.

No, this movie does not fix all of our problems. It does not make women equal in the workplace, narrow the pay gap, or change the attitudes of the many people that perpetuate gender stereotypes and notions that women are somehow less valuable or capable than men. Nothing will fix these problems overnight, certainly not one motion picture. However, Wonder Woman, a big budget film directed by an actual woman, provides an image and a story line of a strong female lead saving the world. And more than that, she sets off to save the world without sacrificing her femininity, emotions, morals or her sense of self. This is the message that we all need to hear. Now and always.

Did you see the movie yet? What did you think?

I consider my own coming out to have been a long, drawn out, and exhausting process. Living as a straight, cis female was not just draining but incredibly detrimental to my mental health. But, to live in a closet… I cannot even imagine a life now, where that is an option. Coming out is exhausting. It is sometimes gruesome. Sometimes you get kicked out of your home. Relationships end. I am not saying it is easy, but once you make it to the other side. The side where you know who your friends are, the side where you can build relationships and family beyond blood (#chosenfamily, please go here: Chosen Family: Stories of Queer Resilience), the side where you can be who you are. That side is worth the struggle.

Perhaps on the very same day, I read this article: The Secret Life of Secrets and it struck me how invasive of a secret it is to live in a closet. It’s not something that comes up in conversation once in a while, or something you think about a couple times a month. We are talking about hiding who you truly are. When I think back to my own time in the closet, I’m not surprised by my emotional state or actions. I am in awe that I made it through. And mostly, I’m in awe at how amazing life can be when you come out.

I was pacing around the pool deck at my future in-laws house. I held my cell phone to my ear. I was in shock. On the other end of the phone was my mother. This was one in a series of conversations we’d had over the several months after I had come out to her. I knew that telling her I was gay would not be easy (which is one of the reasons I waited so long), but I was entirely unprepared for the statements I would hear during those months.

“This is not who you are.”

“I won’t condone this behavior under my roof.”

“You’ll always have a place here when you realize your mistake.”

“You’ll understand when you have kids of your own.”

This time it was, “If you ever have kids, you’d be ruining their lives.” I was speechless. I don’t actually remember what I said after that. Probably nothing. I may have even hung up the phone. If I didn’t, I should have. In retrospect, that was a very telling moment. It was not just me that had been rejected, it was my past, current, and future life. Wife and kids included.

Fast forward to the present and here we are, two moms raising two kids. Gender/orientation aside, we live a very traditional life. We are married. We have one working parent and one “stay-at-home” parent. We have a five-year-old (WHAT? When did that happen?!) boy (self-proclaimed) who is finishing his first year of school and a three-year-old princess (also self-proclaimed) who is finishing her first year of preschool. Our kids play together, plot together, and scream at each other. They are best buddies. We eat together, play games, laugh, cry, goof-off, build things, dance, get frustrated, and miss each other when we are apart. We are a family. We just happen to be a family with two Mamas (currently differentiated as “Mama that stays home” and “Mama that goes to work”).

If I could, I would rewind to that day on the pool deck and tell the young, dejected version of myself what the future would hold. I would show her my camera roll and tell her what it would be like to be Mama. And not just any Mama, but the bow-tie wearing, lego-building, comic book reading, Mama-that-goes-to-work. The Mama that got pregnant at home (times two), gave birth in water (times two), breastfed beyond two (times two). My 10+ year younger self could have used that imagery, even if she may not have believed it possible at the time.

This is my seventh year blogging in support of LGBTQ families! You can read my previous Blogging for LGBTQ Families Day posts here:

Blogging for LGBT Families Day 2010: A Baby in the Works

Reflections and a Little Ranting

One Happy Family

Blogging for LBGT Families Day 2013: Another Big Year

Family of Four: Blogging for LGBTQ Families Day 2014

Six years, the Difference

• Things I have learned and believe as a result of being the parent of two children
• Things I have learned and believe as a result of my own experience as a human being

Growing up, I never questioned my gender. I was a “tomboy” as they say. But, it never occurred to me that gender was is something different than sex. It never occurred to me, in part, because being anything other than what was expected (whether it be gender, orientation, career, family, etc.) was not an option. This was both a result of my religious upbringing but also family dynamics. In case anyone was wondering, I was destined to be a Southern Christian woman married to a man, blessed with two children, and a stay-at-home mom and housekeeper. Sometimes things don’t work out the way they were intended. And sometimes that is a good thing.

When I was pregnant the first time, my wife and I had many discussions about what we wanted for our children. Gender often came up. Our ideals surrounding gender were that our baby would be adorned in gender neutral clothing and be given gender neutral toys. They would pick what they liked and what they wanted when they got old enough to decide for themselves. The sex of our child did not matter. No one knew the sex purposefully so that we wouldn’t be smothered in pink or blue.

Then our baby was born. And it was announced to our friends and family, which is all fairness, did a pretty good job of maintaining our gender neutral preferences. Our little A was free to explore the world and determine likes, dislikes, etc.

Our baby, male, was a boy. It did not take long for that to be apparent. As he grew and started to show preferences for hair length, toys, clothes, etc. he chose for himself. He is now old enough to talk about gender and he identifies as male (Disclaimer here recognizing fluidity and we will obviously continue to respect his choices and preferences moving forward if they change). The point is, regardless of sex at birth and regardless of how gender neutral you approach parenting, you get what you get.

In case we weren’t sure of this, along came our second child. Born female, raised by two moms, exposed to a full range of toys, clothes, etc., J is a girl. And not just a girl, a princess dress wearing, baby doll loving, pink and purple covered G-I-R-L. (But, she is also tough, self-assured, sportsy, and proud.)

A is now at the age where kids see black and white, they put people into boxes. You are boy or girl. We are continually talking to him and helping him to understand gender roles and how our society plays into them. We are affirming choice regardless of how others expect you to behave. We are lucky that he attends a school that is incredibly supportive of LGBTQ families and children. And yet, we still have moments when we are frustrated by the limitations of society and gender expectations.

On a recent trip to Georgia we visited Babyland General Hospital (where Cabbage Patch kids are born and adopted). The kids knew going in, and were super excited, that they were each allowed to adopt a doll. J was in heaven. We stood around as Mother Cabbage delivered a new (girl) cabbage baby and suddenly A was having a meltdown. After several minutes of coaxing, he finally told me the problem. He was worried that Babyland General was for girls, adopting a doll was a girl thing to do, and that he shouldn’t do it. We worked through it in the end, but fuck you society for this challenge.

Through this process as a parent (and my own personal experiences, featured in a future Part II), I have come to few conclusions:

• Gender is a spectrum that is influenced by an infinite number of factors.
• Gender can be fluid.
• While gender should be irrelevant, we live in a society where that is not the case.
• The only way to change gender stereotypes is to raise a generation that is not confined by the idea that gender is this or that. Gender is not binary.

Disclaimer: These are my personal beliefs and thoughts on gender and are not intended to be offensive in any way. I would welcome any comments and/or criticisms as I’m perpetually learning… No really, what are you thoughts?

After we moved to Vermont, my grandmother, who the kids affectionately called “Gran Gran,” came to visit us twice a year. At 80 years old, she got herself to the airport, on a plane, changed planes somewhere, and after a full day of travel she would finally arrive excited and energetic as ever.

The last time that she came, just three months before she died, she told me that she had been having some “spells” of dizziness and weakness. With her usual stubbornness, she also said that she hadn’t told anyone about it. A couple months later, after some questionably unnecessary medical intervention and assessment, we found out the cause. She was diagnosed with very advanced stage lung cancer which had spread to her liver. Just four days after we booked our trip, she died from an infection that she had gotten during her hospital stay. She was was septic and it happened very fast, just as she would have wanted.

She didn’t want a funeral and made me promise long ago that I wouldn’t spend money to send flowers or fly down for a service. Instead she wanted us to take the money we would have spent and go on a trip. So, that is exactly what we did. We already had one booked so it wasn’t difficult to decide where to go.

We saw family, took the kids on a tour of the town that I grew up in, and visited the sites including the Ocmulgee National Monument, Stone Mountain, and Babyland General. It was a trip for fun and family. It was a trip for Gran Gran. A trip to remember.

Why, then, is there such stigma around this topic?

We must be able to talk openly and honestly about our mental health.

I say this with such confidence, but here is some back story… Like many baby gays (and I use that term to mean any LGBTQ+ individuals), I struggled with figuring out and accepting myself. This struggle was a lonely and sad place to be for a long time. But, I didn’t talk about it. It was (and still is) customary in my family to not talk about our problems. Some delusional assumption that if we don’t say it out loud, it isn’t really happening or true. Unfortunately, the only thing that creates in my experience is shame and fear (and depression and a load of other problems).

I was born and raised in Macon, GA and I grew up attending a southern Baptist church. Some of the people that I was most nervous to come out to, were the most supportive, including my (at the time) 75-year-old grandmother who was also born and raised in Macon and an avid church going Christian. I remember being incredibly nervous. I worried about what might happen for weeks, probably months, before telling her. But I had decided that if I was going to continue to be close to her and share my life with her, I had to tell her. She called me when I was driving home from work one day and I remember her reaction very clearly. She told me that everyone had to live their own life and no one on this earth has a right to judge other people. It made no difference to her. She never blinked an eye at me, my wife, our family.

Coming out can be a truly exhausting process. One that I hope one day is not necessary. But what I gained when I came out to my close friends, and then family, and then co-workers is the realization that you don’t have to live in that place of secrecy and fear. In fact, I found through coming out that communication about things that were rarely discussed is very powerful. It is more powerful than the absence of communication.The way to end stigma, stigma of any kind, is to talk about it. So, let’s talk about it… This is something that I have done for many years as it relates to LGBTQ+ issues. I’ve taken the stance that if I am open and honest about who I am and that impacts just one person’s acceptance of the gay community in a positive way, then it was worth it. It’s time to take that stance for mental health issues also, which I personally find even more difficult.

Below are some fantastic resources for anyone who is looking for support, interested in providing support, or just looking to learn more about LGBTQ+ and mental health issues… I challenge us all to talk more about mental health. How is your mental health today?

Resources:

The Trevor Project

National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI)

Mental Health America

I know this book is a couple years old. I know there are articles out there, published when it was released, but it was news to me. A superhero that is pregnant!? I love the image. I love the idea. I love it. And here’s why:

• I am a woman (won’t go into the complicated asterisk here, but stay tuned, it could be a future topic).
• I have been pregnant, twice.
• I don’t believe that being pregnant and being active are mutually exclusive activities.

One of the things that bugged me the most about being pregnant was people contantly cautioning me about doing things. Don’t paint the bedroom, don’t climb the ladder, you’re going to have to quit running, stop moving the furniture, get someone else to mow the lawn, take it easy. STFU. People seem to think that women are particularly delicate when pregnant and cannot do things. A ridiculous notion. You can be pregnant and do things. Physical and mental things, all kinds of things.

Disclaimer: This is not to say that at a certain point during pregnancy there are no physical limitations, in my experience there are. Nor is this intended to offend anyone (really, truly, honestly, everyone has a different pregnancy and birth and postpartum experience and all of those experiences are valid and worth large amounts of respect). Also, this is entirely my own opinion and not to be construed as medical advice (please seek the advice of your medical provider when determining the appropriate level of activity during your pregnancy).

To illustrate my point… I have been pregnant twice. During my first pregnancy, I ran the Goofy Challenge at Walt Disney World. I even used a couple of photos of me during the race, sporting my “Running for Two” shirt to come out of the pregnancy closet. During my second pregnancy, we were rushing to finish a home improvement project before the baby was born and I was tiling the bathroom floor at 35 weeks, painting after that, and moving furniture, etc. During both pregnancies, I worked full time until either the baby came out or I was past my expected arrival date. All the while, I was literally making another human being.

Side note, the superpowers don’t stop at making the human because at some point you have to get that human out of your body and (if you choose to do so) feed it by turning the food you eat into baby human food… WOW. Let’s just think about that for a minute.

Zooming back out, the great thing about pregnant superheros is that being pregnant and becoming a mother is not their everything. It’s not their defining role.

Motherhood does not have to be your defining role.

That is the take home. No one part of yourself is your defining role, not even motherhood. I identify with many labels: wife, mother, leader, advocate, writer, artist. But none of these (or any other parts of myself) solely define who I am.

Looking back on my childhood experiences, this was likely a contributing factor in my tenuous relationship with my mother. Though I have spent many years processing and coming to terms with this part of my life (and this is certainly an ongoing process for me), I’ve learned to frame my experiences as lessons learned. That way regardless of how shitty things may have been or seem now, I’m getting something positive from it. Something I can translate to my own parenting. Something that will make my kids’ experience better.

What’s your superpower? If you are or have been pregnant, what’s your pregnancy claim to fame?