The president wishes me a Happy Mother's day

 I know it's election season, but this guy gets me every time

Groundhog Day

There are so many things that I never really thought much about until I had kids.
It's important to note, I'm one of those people that thought a lot about having kids...
I thought about how I would teach them, how I would treat them, what I would need in a co-parent to supplement my particular hangups, talents, shortcomings, and anxieties. I considered how I would handle raising different personalities and how I would balance the different needs of boys vs girls or boys AND girls. I even thought a bit about what I would do if I had a kid that had ambiguous genitalia or one that looked like a boy but felt like a girl (Thank you, Middlesex).

I thought about how I would teach them to pee standing up (having never done that myself) and how I would teach them to stand up for their beliefs without disrespecting others. I thought about how I would handle the rage inside myself the first time they were bullied or teased.

I mean, you get my point, right?

The "parenting" as a verb catches me so off guard sometimes. Watching and letting them struggle for their own good- even if right now it is only with language and putting on socks and shoes- requires attentive restraint. (Jake's particular nemesis right now: Button-fly jeans. Who at gap thought that was a good idea?!?) But sometimes, I am completely disarmed by how they flip the world around on me, they completely scramble the compass.

Can we talk about Santa?!?
An uncomplicated concept to get behind in theory. He's jolly, he's fun, he's generous, he's magical - "Kid-less Tracy" didn't give it much thought. What was there to protest?

I just didn't anticipate how hard it would be to make up the little white lies required to make that myth work. It's not that I have a problem lying to my kids, per se... I mean our relationship is based on honesty (of course)... but a lot of the stuff I say to them is not so much TRUTHFUL as it is AGE APPROPRIATE: "Soda is an 'adult beverage'," "Everyone loves vegetables!", "Mufasa's brother, Scar, is so silly". Still, the pseudo-creepy, heavy-set man in the Santa suit in the mall?!? Not that interested in plopping my toddler on his lap.

When my kids have the uncontrollable urge and desire to run up and hug Santa, I'll stand 2 feet away and allow it. But trying to convince them to partake in the pre-kids-it-didn't-seem-so-bizarre ritual ("Stop crying, there's nothing to be afraid of... Go sit on that strange man's lap so we can take a picture")?!? Sorry, I'm not playing.

I'm okay lying about the reindeer flying and speaking of magic like it's a real thing (that's called imagination). Leaving the notes to and from the big guy and the treats and cookie crumbs... I start to have some ethical dilemmas, but I see the value.

Then I have to partake in the back-story, and I start to loose interest: Mrs. Clause sitting home doing nothing but keeping his suit clean? The army of enslaved elves making millions of toys? Landing on the roof? Breaking and entering- a man sneaks into our house on the promise to leave us some goods? Wait.. WHAT?!? So this guy just wanders around our home while we sleep? How is that congruent with everything else we are trying to teach about normal social behavior?

Why can't we just update the tale? Example: Kids and parents correspond with Santa's family by email to coordinate requests from the children and advice on good behavior from Santa. The elves have been set free except the ones that were hired (union bennies and wages) by the Clauses to help coordinate money exchanges and purchases from corporate entities (toy making and product packaging has obviously been outsourced from the north pole due to increased transportation costs and an effort to be more Green.) This is such a corporate holiday, but as a parent tied to the increasingly outmoded and ridiculous Santa myth, I can't even bring in a tame lesson on the dangers of commercialization or find easy ways to explain how much harder a lot of our neighbors have to work around the holidays, b/c Santa is the only one getting street cred for upping personal productivity...

All kidding aside, it was a creative struggle in December to find pieces of the holiday story that are not complicated by half-truths and increasingly inane postulations (a deer-drawn winter sleigh when we haven't had snow since that one storm in October???). So we tried to minimize it and focus on the story of the nativity, and teach them to notice the smell of the tree and the enjoy the beauty of Christmas lights.

And then, not all of our friends celebrate and believe in Christmas or Santa. And the ones that do? Their not-so-little white lies to their kids are slightly different than ours. Our kids are like, "that's not what so-and-so said about Christmas..."

Holidays with kids can get complicated.

Last night, Jake and I are sitting on the couch:

J: Tomorrow's Ground Hog day.
Me: (not having thought about this at all) yes.
J: what is that?
Me: (stretching my mind) Um... that is a holiday where the ground hog comes out of his hole to determine if the winter will end soon or not.
J: What?
Me: um... the ground hog comes out and if he sees his shadow, he goes back in and if he doesn't, he will stay out of his hole?
J: Why?
Me: I guess he will get scared if he sees his shadow
J: no. why does he do it?
Me: um... (remembering) it's like 6 more weeks of winter if he goes back in his hole but... (I trail off knowing this is absurd)
J: why
Me: I'm not sure, baby
J: why?
Me: (i knowing I'm beat) yeah... I don't know, really... it's a very silly holiday

Parenting (more often than I would have previously believed) involves mini existential crises, sometimes 2 and 3 times a day.

As I try to explain the world to our kids, I'm forced to decide- often in a moments notice: Am I going to pass on some bullshit that no one believes but everyone repeats over and over again? Am I going to overwhelm them with a depressing amount of realism?

But cutting even deeper, once a previously unnoticed absurdity comes to my attention, how will I handle if from there??? Inside MYSELF???

Sometimes I feel like I'm just noticing things for the first time and when Jake or Milo ask "Why?" I have to shake my head like a visitor to this country or planet and say with true helpless confusion, "I really have no idea, guys... I'm sorry. I have no idea..."

"It's totally fucked up." I want to admit to them, "And I'm sorry to report I never noticed how totally fucked up it is until right this moment..."

(Head in hands) When they are older, we can just watch the Bill Murray movie together, right?

Check your list twice...

While discussing gift-giving, and gift-receiving etiquette, something goes awry...

Jake: I hope Santa keeps a list... Because if I, like, ask for a Batman gift and he brings me, say, a Dora thing, I'll be like, "dude, I didn't ask for Dora..."

Halloween

There was a big snow storm 2 days before Halloween, so it really screwed things up for that holiday. Somehow, we had our costumes all worked out- well in advance... a miracle for these two somewhat-behind-schedule moms. Then it started to snow about 11am on Saturday. Big, wet flakes that accumulated to about a foot of heavy snow and took out a lot of trees and branches. We were out of power for 5 days- no heat, no electricity, and trick or treating was officially cancelled in our town. But we did dress them up: First from my sister's box of "extra dress up" Jake found his cousin, Cam's witch costume from 2 years ago.

(Jake and Cam are the same age- so that's why he looks a little too sexy for his clothes)

Man, he is Purr-dee... isn't he?!? I think he's very handsome, but he also makes a beautiful princess boy when he wants to!!!

Then, not to be outdone, Milo wanted to wear a dress. So, I couldn't resist putting him into this tiny-dog costume I found. It seemed cruel to undress him for it- we're not raising strippers here, after-all! So I put it on him OVER his clothes!

Awwwwww!

Then the main event... we dressed our boys in their "real costumes" and my sister's girls in the play things of their choice and headed out to the THREE houses in the dark that had candles in their windows.

These were taken at school this week...

The cutest panda ever!!!

Sweet-smile, slouchin' Superman...

Jake as "Clark Kent"

Brothers:

BONUS PIC:

I borrowed my dad's leaf blower and it dangled over the back seat a little. When I looked into the back, Jake had grabbed onto the handle. At the next glance, Milo was imitating him. The image made me laugh- as if they were human bungee cords, keeping the thing from rolling out of the hatchback.

:)

Local Honey

We started this blog 6 years ago. Every year (for 6 years) I've been invited, encouraged, interested, eager- to take part in this. But whatever it is about June 1st? I could never make it work.

In some ways this is redundant. What is the GSO but a blog about our family. Every time Katy or I blog, it is for at least one LGBT family.

As I write, I mentally review the week we've had and the weeks coming up, and I don't freaking know how parents do this. And then I remember, we are doing it... We ARE parents.
This is not a dream but a "dream come true"... (shrug)

With a 1.5 year old boy and a 3.5 year old boy, every day is an adventure.
Every meal is a crap shoot.
Every bedtime is a cliff hanger. (Will we sleep through the night or won't we?!?)
Next week, Katy is away at a conference and I will keep the home fires burning, but looking at the week we've had, I miss her already.

First, a few tid bits:

1) I'd just like to say, that the two moms are suffering a little right now. After more than a week of this "cold" I'm willing to concede that I may have developed seasonal allergies late in the 4th decade of my life. But seriously, if this is what a little pollen can do to a woman, evolution may be working against us. I promise, I'm going on local honey as soon as I can locate some...

2) Pink eye is running rampant through the day care. ML got two scoops of clear goopey in his left eye, and we had to get drops called in prophylactically to keep him from being erroneously diagnosed and tossed out of work camp day care for two days. In a scheduling Cirque Du Soleil that amounted to nothing less than a Parenting Coup, we had him on 24 hours of drops before any ocular pink-en-ing could occur.

3) JB's first dance recital is Saturday. His dress rehearsal is tomorrow night. He has the prince costume, pink tights, make up (including foundation and purple lipstick- that he requested Katy buy for him), black ballet shoes, a new haircut, and he is poised to steal the show. Most importantly, he is very excited and proud. And it is the most normal thing in the world to him. I pray that we get to keep him like this for several more years- where he gets to enjoy the things he enjoys in blissful ignorance that some of them (baseball, football, watching garbage trucks) are "boy things", and some of them (cooking, dancing, wearing lipstick) are "girl things".

Back to the post...
What the heck does it mean to blog for LGBT families?

In some ways, our blog is all about the fragile capacity of memory. I need to chronicle these times because if I can't remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday, how will I remember how adorable my kids were in the first real winter of their lives? Or how will I accurately portray to them how insane they sometimes made me, as I grow older and romanticize our early years together?!?

But that's only part of it, really. I blog for more people than me and us.

I blog for our family and friends that totally support us. I blog for our acquaintances that might not understand us. I blog for Oprah- that she might somehow stumble upon this space and find someone to pay me to write for a living...

When i first came out, one of the strangest things to me was the censorship that suddenly surrounded various aspects of my life. Prior to realizing I was gay, I was an open book. There was nothing to hide, nothing to dance around, no question that couldn't be posed. "What's new? Who are you dating?" And endless follow up questions about any man that might come close to fitting that description. But after "word got around" about me, conversations temporarily got quieter, more one sided... There were obvious school and work questions, questions about where I was living, but then things slowed down. Only a few would venture to the "who are you living with?" And even fewer would jump right out and ask about "dating" or a "girlfriend". My coping strategy was to just put it out there. I felt, the sooner I came out to people, the sooner I could convey this was not something that I needed to hide to feel secure. If it was public knowledge that I was OUT, then innocent discomfort based on a fear of being too personal or inadvertently OUTING me would prove to be unnecessary. I spoke quietly, but as clearly as I could about all aspects of my life.

This was not necessarily natural to me. But like when you teach yourself to be comfortable speaking in public, I just decided it was the way I would try to take care of not only myself, but others that I loved and worked with and played with.

When I met Katy, she reinforced this model of behavior. People don't know that she quivers a little on the inside and silently worries so much about what other people think, because when you talk to her, it seems like she's all carefree. She seems to say what's on her mind without pause. She tries not to couch the truth unless there's a really good reason. Once I fell in love with Katy, our relationship demanded an entirely higher standard for living out and proud. I mean, she's not someone I'd ever consider hiding, even for a moment. (As Lissa would say, "What's the point of having a trophy wife, if you can't..." Lissa uses that preamble in all sorts of scenarios.)

So we are a gay family, but we are certainly not separate or isolated from other families. And we are open and clear on what puts us into this very distinct category of families, but often, we are so busy living our lives, that we feel a little removed from vitriol aimed particularly at us.
Consider this:
- 31 states in the country have CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENTS that forbid marriage between two men or two women (the acknowledgement that we are a family)
- 39 states in the country have STATE LAWS that forbid acknowledgement that we are a family
- There is a federal law (DOMA) that disallows the federal acknowledgment of our state-sanctioned marriage. That includes not counting us as a family in the census; not counting us as a family in the tax code; not counting us as a family in terms of disability, social security, medicare, military benefits; that includes not counting us as a family in terms of immigration, international travel and protections, and federal employment.
- Federal law is still unclear on the status of gay men and women in the military- Don't Ask, Don't Tell (DADT) is supposedly on it's way out, but until that transition is completed, gay men and women are prohibited from serving in the military; which as far as I'm concerned means an out gay man or gay woman (even if s/he could win the general election and earn the votes of the electoral college) would not be eligible to serve as Commander in Chief or President of the United States.
- In at least 41 countries, it is AGAINST THE LAW to be gay or in a gay relationship
- Many of the worlds religions claim without any hesitation that God either hates gay people, wants them to live in denial of their natural inclinations, or will definitively punish same sex attraction with eternal damnation.

In a world with these types of headlines, with so many powerful, famous, and vocal people that are lining up to condemn us for being gay, when I consider our family, and our lives...
The sad truth is I don't feel all that gay.

We don't live in a gay house, in a gay town, have gay jobs, go to a gay church-
(Well, actually, our church is a little gay...)
But what I mean is, we are just living. We are conventional and mainstream and we are comfortable that way.
We dabble in activism and keeping this blog is one tendril of that activity.
We are surrounded by good people of all stripes, and we feel boring and not "different" at all...

This year we went to PRIDE in North Hampton, MA. North Hampton, if you don't know, is the lesbian "San Fransisco" of the east coast. It is the "New England, town-green, raise your chickens under the worn out kayak in your yard, 7 sister all-women's college surrounded, hemp-wearing, local honey and maple syrup-making, artist collective, non-profit supporting, justice seeking, female indie-rock band launching, queer women raising children, challenging each other to cook-offs, reading contests, inter-mural soccer, and 1/2 marathons;" it is the year-round answer to p-town. (deep breath)

When you go visit friends in NoHo, there are always 2-3 husbands in a group of 10-15 women, but they're the type of guys that are more liberal, intellectual, feminist, or bohemian than any of your female relatives back home, so (in the most innocent, respectful, and non-emasculating way) when you are with them, you forget there are men in the room.

So we are in the car, heading up there (for PRIDE) I started to get a little insecure.
I started thinking, "We are going to J and J's house and they are so, well... cool and they've got the right shoes and kayaks and schedule that's healthy for their kid... And their son isn't in day care for 40 hours a week, and they probably don't even let him have chicken nuggets or PLASTIC toys (let alone Ball Park Franks) and we are so STRAIGHT compared to them..."

And then I thought:
"STOP!!!!!!!!!"
"THEY ARE STRAIGHT! Tracy, they can not be gayer than you... YOU are married to a woman!!! That IS the very DEFINITION of GAY!!!"

But, isn't it true that nowadays, GAY FAMILIES include so much more than two people of the same gender who are in love and/or sleeping with each other.

J and J who are practically gayer than us- even though one of them is a MAN and one of them is a WOMAN (Because they do live in a "cool gay house" in a "cool gay town" with our very best gay friends) J and J are part of this gay family.
Our parents and sisters and brothers are all part of this gay family.
Our cousins, aunts, and uncles by birth and our cousins, aunts, and uncles by choice are all a part of this gay family.
Our softball team and coworkers are all a part of this gay family.
Our college friends, Our Facebook friends, and readers of this blog, and the people that take care of our children every day at their school are all a part of this gay family.
My mom's hair dresser, and my father-in-law's tennis buddies and my grandmother's sister, brother, and church friends that are always asking about our boys... are all part of this gay family.
Anyone that has ever stopped a homophobic joke or tirade because they've thought of us and said, "That's just not true and just not nice."
Anyone that has ever decided not to vote for an anti-gay politician because of how that effects our family or the future that our children will grow up in.
Anyone that has ever turned to their small child and said, "There's nothing wrong with dancing if you are a boy or driving a truck if you are a girl, and I love you no matter what you grow up to be" is part of this gay family.

So when I blog on June 1st (into the early morning hours of June 2nd) for LGBT families, I'm blogging for all of us. I'm blogging for the visibility and viabilty of progressive lifestyles and families (gay and straight) that fight a political machine and a standard of living that tries to make fact out of the myth that gay people are somehow a threat to our society. And the way that we fight (because we are so tired out by working our jobs and raising our kids, and keeping our houses in order) is by mostly just living. Living with and near each other and taking care of each other and raising our kids together.

I am so proud and feel so lucky to be living the life I am living with all of you as part of my family. It numbs the mind. It strengthens the heart. And emboldens the spirit.

It somehow makes the breathing easier. (Like an elixir for seasonal allergies)

Grammar jokes

Every day is Mothers' Day

It's been a rough couple of weeks for me.

By "rough" I mean nothing-really-that-bad, but flat out exhausting...

You know that saying, you can have something "fast", you can have it "good", you can have it "cheap" or... you can have any combination of TWO of those, but you cannot have all three?

That little riddle has been popping into my mind in the last few weeks as I have considered my lot in life... And this started scrambling around in my head...

The housework has fallen behind a bit. The house is just- well- not.clean. (I guess that is really the best way to put it.)
I've been trying to keep up with exercise, and I have a huge project underway at work that will span about six weeks (we are 3 weeks in).

I've been doing my best to be a good mom and wife and not knowing the "laws" of this particular species of Venn diagram, I am not sure if more than 3 areas can be sufficiently covered at one time. All I know is I can see the teetering- I feel wobbly. On the days/weeks I feel I am keeping up with my duties at work, exercise habits are hard to maintain... the blog (as you know) is long suffering. The highest priority is of course the family, and you'll have to poll my wife, but I'm not sure how well I'm holding up my end. The madness of parenting a rounding-the-corner-towards-2 year old and a rounding-the-corner-toward-4 year old is as pervasive as mold.

Katy and I marvel every day at the paradoxes inherent the chemical reactions that occur in our brains: The degree to which I adore these ruggies and the simultaneous tension I feel as my time with them stretches the seams of the fibers of my being... At some point in every day, i want to melt from the awesomeness that pours out of their minds and mouths. And invariably, at some point in every day, I want to run screaming from their nonsense...



JB, for example, does a lot of TALKING right now. When he has had the perfect amount of sleep (the formula that determines this magical amount of sleep has not been revealed to me) he is funny, sweet, and adorable. But a lot of the time, he thinks he knows what's what and, he doesn't. And he thinks he's in charge of stuff that he can't possibly control. The most amazing thing about a 3 1/2 year old is how they learn the "tone" that accompanies adult conversation, but the tone is usually empty. Knowing the lingo is only half the game... Kids have no understanding of snark, no comprehension of the multitude of ways that humans intentionally and unintentionally mess with each other. They have learned the words and they mimic the tone, but they have no knowledge of the rules of engagement.

Picture this: A cloudy day. I work 8 or 9 hours and race to the day care to get the ruggies. JB, who at times has difficulty with "transition" tells me he's not ready to leave and he stalls so much that he nearly gets a time out. ML bounds towards me, we walk out the door and before we get to the car he has splashed his way into a large puddle. Soaked, I buckle him in and then buckle in JB. The entire way home, there's a lot of loud yapping and screeching. I have not yet been with my beautiful children for 20 minutes, but I'm already not sure how I will make it through the next 3 hours.

We pull into the driveway and JB sighs loudly: "I hate our house."

Srsly?



I am white-knucking the steering wheel. I can't believe the potency of the feelings I am experiencing. I know logically that I can not take this joker at his word, that I need to have more patience, but pure disgust is like a warm, white fire slowly consuming me. If a fully formed human had said this, I would have been all like:
"WTF is wrong with you?!? WHO says that?!? That is rude and you have a lot of nerve!!! If you dont' like this house, you don't have to live in it!!! Do you have any idea how hard we work to provide you with a shelter this amazing?!?"

Mind you the entire time I am mentally speach-ifying, ML is screeching: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-OOOOOOOHHHHHHH-ooOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAA!

I take a deep breath and ask JB in the most neutral tone I can muster: "Honey, why would you say that?" (inhale, exhale, heart beat, heart beat)

JB: "I don't know, I guess I just wish we could paint the whole thing orange."

[sigh] I'm glad I didn't just go with my first reaction.



ML, on the other hand is an entirely different beast. He is all action for JB's pensiveness. He is determined where JB is unsure. He is reckless and goofy where JB is cautious and serious. ML, for example, understands every mother-humping word we say, he can identify 68 different varieties of truck from a mile away, but he can not will his lips or vocal chords to pronounce the word: TRUCK.





I mean even though I know it is developmental, it really seem like stubbornness.
It's always:
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA!"
or
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
or, inexplicably:
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

His insistence and persistence is mind-boggling.
"Yes!" I shout back, "I know!!! a TRUCK!!! It IS AWESOME!!! Just like it was 5 seconds ago!!! LOok there!!! Another one!!! AMAZING. THANK YOU FOR POINTING THAT NEW ONE OUT!!!"

ML is the type of kid that the first time he plunged his entire arm into the toilet bowl, it was all about the science of discovery, but now it is a Marks Brothers skit: He knows the specific "toilet bowl look" that he has to produce before he gives chase to the bathroom. And even though he has a healthy head start, he will wait for us- perched, contemplative, like a diver on a block- his arm readied at his ear, until i get within 2 lunges of him. We lock eyes. He waits for me to plead, "NO...." and then submerges to the clavicle, smiling... never breaking eye contact...

That kid tries to climb in the oven, sits in the refrigerator, turns on the dishwasher, surfs down the stairs into the garage, tries to feed peanut butter to the iMac. He smear blueberries in his hair to signal the completion of the meal and if you don't dive to remove the plate from his tray, he flips it like a flapjack at the world's fair. He has a power over me. I forget myself. I have thrown food BACK at him- in a desperate attempt to instill some manners, I act like a sociopath.

Still the boy will look at you and tilt his curly-haired head with a smile that says, "You know you're my girl" and at that point it's a wash.

This year, Mother's day was spent with friends and family and no gifts were exchanged in our house. We just enjoyed the air and the craziness.

Two minute update

I have two minutes to post b/c we are hosting Easter tomorrow and the kids are out of the house for 2 hours so that we can "clean" without having to reprimand ML for sticking his arm straight into the toilet every 3 minutes or so (the hook and eye lock I installed on the door is completely useless, because he has calculated the exact rhythm-pressure-code of wiggle, pulsing, banging, and pausing required to get the hook to magically "jump" out of the eye... the only way it even slowed him down is the one time I left it UNLocked and he spent 90 seconds reaching above the knob toward the lock to try to reach and fiddle with it.)

Life is good. It is cold and rainy today, but tomorrow is supposed to be nicer. We went to a Seder last night- my first... familiar with the stories and some of the words, not familiar at all with the food - so strange that I could be so unfamiliar with an entire meal of "traditional" food. It was yummy, though.

The boys are very sweet and smart and very whiny and needy and actually starting to fight a little - want the same toys, vie for affection. Not too much, but definitely both of them playing various things up for attention and starting to show signs of, "Whatever he has I want"... I'm not sure if it is the Irish/Italian/Catholic genes/ socialization in me that I find myself believing the corrective action for this issue is to add another sibling to the mix... It's as if I want to say, you think you don't get enough attention now, wait until the new baby comes shooting into town; I'll give you something to whine about!!!" Horror at the thought of adding more chaos to this dirty home! But there's so much love in these walls, something inside of me thinks we should divide it up and share it more.

(Katy is somewhere whimpering that I have put this out into the universe- she's just not interested in that "solution".)

Katy and I have been working hard at trying to be healthier. We joined the Y and have a work out strategy that includes going there a few times a week and using the treadmill in our basement more and playing along with a Jillian Michaels tape now and then. It is working. I feel better. I've lost 13 lbs. I can do 20 (full) push-ups. She's been run/walking 4-5 miles at a clip and I've been doing 3-4 (a larger and larger percentage of the time has been running over walking) I have another 25-35lbs that I'd like to lose. I've never been fixated on my weight, but I'm 2 years and 2 months away from my 40th birthday, and I think I'd like to start that decade super fit...

I feel torn about doing all the things I want to do- excel at work, work out, eat right, write more, have fun with these kids- doing them all well... It seems so POSSIBLE every morning and when we are "falling-apart-tired" at night, it seems so implausible. But mostly, I feel lucky and grateful (that's redundant, right?) for my wife and friends and family.

Okay, that was 12 minutes... time to go clean the house!!!

Come out, come out, wherever you are... Part 2

On St. Patrick's day this year, I was in Texas.

I've talked about how the political climate struck me as a tad bit suffocating in Part 1.

I was having a good time and it is quite lovely on the San Antonio river.

Missing my boys and my sweetie, I still wasn't going to ignore the fact that it was ST. PATRICK'S DAY. And on most years that goes by fairly UN-celebrated by me (due to familial and work obligations, not because I don't want to get all sloppy on green beer and Irish car bombs.)

There was that one time when my sister and I took the day off to spend it in a bar in South-ie...

and we drank all day until everyone in that place seemed like a pal...

But usually it's a toss up: "sleep... Green beer? Sleep... drunk girls in a too crowded bar, spilling green beer everywhere?? Sleep... spending too much money on bad Irish food and over priced car bombs???"

I know... I'm lame. I usually chose the sleep. Especially since the kids were born and wrecked my ability to sleep off green beer.

Anyway, this year, I was away from home, getting plenty of sleep, only responsible for myself. I had intended to round up some nurses or others from the conference to go rouse a little rabble.

It didn't work out. The 2nd day of the conference ended weird with some opting to go visit a site and others rushing away early and I was somewhere in between, ending for the day far too early for dinner. I went back to my room. Had an ichat with my family and then decided to head out on my own.

Going out to a bar on your own is strange, especially when you don't have any sexual favors to barter with or center banter around. It's not my game, but I think I understand why there are those people that travel a lot for work who make up an alias... It can only get you into trouble, but it's just so that you can go out and "hunt" for a dining companion, right? Anyway... I found a bar Durty Nelly's

This place was all set for the night; the piano-man was in the center of it all, singing ditties and limericks and keeping everyone entertained:

I found a seat about 12 feet from the piano, up against one of those boxed-in support poles. There was a small (14") table to my right and one empty chair besides mine. I was there for about 30 minutes when I started to get restless and feel awkward about being alone. I wasn't really in the mood to be so outgoing as to make new friends, and I for sure wasn't interested in giving up my seat to go make screaming small-talk (over the sound of the music) with strangers.

I sat for about 10 more minutes, my blood feeling like mercury rising as it measured my increased discomfort. Then in walked two couples looking for seating. They seemed disoriented like when you step from the sunlight into a darkened room and can't quite find your bearings. After I watched them twirl around a few times scouting for unavailable seats, I motioned that they might want to pull some chairs around the small table next to me.

Shuffling.
Confusion...
I got up and quickly corralled 2 extra chairs, pointing to a 3rd in a far off corner. They were happy and silly and it calmed me. We introduced ourselves and ordered up a few more drinks. The "Hi"s and "Where are you from?"s and "What brings you to San Antonio?"s lasted 10-20 mins. They had a few stories of this long trip they had taken to the western edge of Texas, and being social with them was as easy as stirring up a pitcher of iced tea in the summer.

We weren't too far into it when Mary asked about my kids (I showed pictures) and if they were okay with their mom so far from home...

I paused. I admit it, it is not how I roll usually- hesitating to bring up my wife- but this Texas place is strange. People down there seem to have a special way of not expecting the obvious (or what might be obvious to me...)

I smiled. Giving her the most reassuring and genuinely friendly vibe I could muster:

"Well, they have two moms, so they are doing okay..."

"What's that?!?" Mary asked blinking.

"I'm married to a woman, and our boys have two moms, so they are in very good hands when I'm away."

Two blue eyes stop blinking and fly open - wide as saucers.
SRSLY.
She literally brings her hand to cover her mouth which is now gaping open.

I can't even formulate the mental "oops" because her reaction is so extreme, so cartoonish that I am actually giggling.

I wait. There's not much more for me to say, so I let her get a grip of herself and recover from the (apparent) shock.

The other members of her group are not really aware of what is going on... They are eating peanuts, looking around... the music is loud and they have missed the meat of our conversation. I don't think they have noticed her surprised expression.

She lets her hand fall to her lap and her mouth is still open when she forms the words, pausing dramatically between each one. Searching carefully for each syllable, it's as if she is inventing language from scratch. She leans towards me.

"Are..."

It is too loud in here for a whisper to be audible. Though she is shouting, her eyes focus and her posture grows conspiratory in nature.

"You..."

She glances left and then right.

"A..."

I can barely handle it. Is this for real? Is she going to have a stroke???

She squeals the final word: "Democrat?!?"

I about lose my shit. I expected LESBIAN not DEMOCRAT. I nod enthusiastically as I laugh and smile hard at her. (Unlike being gay, being a Democrat is NOT illegal in any state.) But I am wondering, will this be the thing that prompts her to overturn the tiny table between us??? I just can't figure out what is going on... What is about to happen?!?

"Yes," I tell her again as she continues to stare at me blankly.

Then it explodes:
"I AM A DEMOCRAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
(yes, that many exclamation points)

And a round of hoots and howls and giggles.
She is speaking wildly now- dozens of words a second- it is even more cartoonish than before- Now I freaking love her!!! And yet I'm struck with instant empathy. Here is a woman, deep in the heart of TEXAS, who is so isolated in her liberal politics that an Irish (1/4 Irish-mutt) lesbian from the North-East who shows up at a bar on St. Patrick's day is her best shot of MAYBE...

NOT DEFINITELY... BUT MAYBE...

Meeting a fellow Democrat.

You know what this means, right??? In Texas (And Mary has lived there all her life and presumably been out there looking for others) you more likely to run across an OUT homosexual than an OUT democrat...

I don't believe they aren't there, it's just that they have to hide in the closet!!!

Holy shit.

I about pee'd my pants at that bar... The night didn't end until we had shared a few too many drinks and Mary dialed up her 18 (? I forget his exact age) year old son for me to have a chat with via cell phone. (I have no idea what that was about either, but he was just as sweet as he could be and didn't seem the least bit surprised- It clearly happens to him all the time.)

Though none of her other companions indicated to me that they were also democrats, they seemed pleased as punch that Mary had located another one of us in this quaint section of the world.

I say again, "Holy shit." Can you imagine if I hadn't come out to this poor lady??? She would have spent the entire night assuming I voted for George W. Bush and sent money to Sarah Palin's PAC on a monthly basis?!?

You have no idea how profoundly this effected me. Let's just say, there are people all over the world, that need to know they are not in this alone!

;)

Valentine's Day pics

We bought our boys love-themed t-shirts for V-Day.
I barely remembered to take photos this AM, but it caused more chaos than one would think:


ML- 17 months old TODAY.
He is modeling his "All you need is love" T-shirt.
He's got his morning face on, hair is high, and he doesn't like it one bit that I am holding an iphone and he is not.



JB- spelling out his "M-O-M" shirt for the camera...

Last week when he was wearing it, he told me,
"That says 'Mom'. It's not for you, it's for Mama."
"Thanks for the clarification," I replied dryly. And then, "You know, you don't have to pick. The 'Mom' on your shirt could stand for both of us... for Mama AND for Mommy."
(pause)
Allowing this concession: "Okay, it can be for both of you."
"Thanks." (eye roll)


JB, putting his arms out as his little brother runs to him.


Heart-bendingly adorable display of brotherly love.


ML (backed up by JB) allowing a pic to be taken because he can see himself in the frame. Note the upper lip wound he sustained in the driveway last week.



It seems like he's smiling here, but he's in the middle of a fit related to me holding an electronic device.


And this is how every photo session ends these days, with one or both of them screaming and crying because they want to control the camera!

But can you believe how big they are getting? And they are so (mostly) sweet, that I have to work every day not to EAT them up!!!

Today begins the reign of the 112th congress of the USA

And here are some other highlights.

It's taken me three full days to believe that I'm back at work after the wonderful couple of weeks we've had:

1. Week before Christmas = STAYcation. Katy and I were off from work together without traveling anywhere for the first time in at least 5 years. During that time, JB got his third set of ear tubes surgically implanted (3rd in 3 years). He did great. We were home by 10 AM. He watched more TV that day than any other day of his life and quite possibly more TV than any other WEEK in his life.

2. Christmas at TT's and Bill's house. We spent the better part of 14 hours there, eating, playing, opening gifts, and eating. Did I say that twice? I meant to...

3. The grannies came for a visit. They were able to avoid wintery weather during the long commute to and from Ohio, but got to enjoy a good ol'fashioned CT blizzard while they were here. JB and ML got to build their first huge snowman and go sledding around the yard with them. (JB's had a few winters, but none where he ever wanted to TOUCH the snow before.)

4. New years weekend was relatively quiet and Katy and I enjoyed some special times alone with our boys.

Today, Katy and I went to our first wake of the year.
Tomorrow, a funeral. Not someone we know, but the dad of someone we love.

-------------

Looking back, as I said above, we had some wonderful times over the holidays.
I feel so lucky and blessed, but I have to say, the holidays beat the shit out of me this year.
I spend a lot of time worrying. Anxiety-ridden might be a more honest analysis of the scene.

It was the first Christmas that "Santa" mattered to JB and the number of times I forgot that I didn't get something at "toys r'us" but "Santa brought it" was too many to count. He's easy to fool right now, but I've gotta get into this game, or the jig will be up by the time ML is 3...

So, I was worried about not being a good enough Santa.
I was worried about not being a good enough wife.
I was worried about money and time and family- not living up to the expectations of everyone. Or rather, not living up to my own expectations and not feeling like everyone judges me as harshly as I judge myself. I was worried about JB's impending surgery on the 21st of December. I was worried about getting the "right" gifts and not just getting gifts for the sake of getting gifts. I was worried about not being able to get done the "special gifts" like photo calendars and cookies that we planned to get done. I was worried about Katy and I not agreeing on all of these things related to gifts and how to celebrate the holidays (after all these years together, it is only now that that are kids are starting to understand a world that does not end at the tips of their fingers that Katy and I have to really start communicating about what we want the holidays to be for us and our boys). I was worried that the ways that Katy and I try to answer these questions and compromise for each other will not make sense to all of our parents - who we desperately want to be with and be respectful of but who we don't always agree with. I was worried about how I can possibly instill a sense of peace and joy and zen about Christmas (and life in general) into my children, if I am on the verge of panic all the time at this time of the year.

I was worried about work and projects that were very time sensitive and I had set a high expectation of success that would be a direct reflection of my work and require me to call in a lot of personal favors. I was worried about the weather and the house in the winter and getting the cars in the garage, and decorating, and keeping the house neat and clean, and warm! And spending enough time with the kids and trying to balance these two desires to 1) expose our kids to a lot of wonderful of people and things, get them out into the world to see lights and celebrations, and have them know family and friends that are family and 2) have quiet times alone at home with them, keep them grounded in a safe and reasonable schedule, and not drag them all over creation for things that they do not really need or understand right now.

It was a lot. And it started for me at the beginning of November. And I tried with some success to stay in the moment and did have some beautiful moments, and did (I think) manage to take care of my wife who was experiencing similar things herself... I think we did a good job with it all, but I feel like some of the (mostly self-imposed) pressure is off now. To be honest this week, I let out a big sigh of relief.

I'm going to work on this. I don't want every year to feel oxygen flushing back into my lungs with the prospect of the holidays ending. Yet, feeling a rush of Oxygen in your lungs is a good feeling, no matter how one comes by it.

So now back to the business of governing the nation...

Shout out to my Nightingale...

Last Friday was Nurse's Day.

"Nurse's week" started sometime either last Wednesday or last Monday.
If you google this holiday, you will see some discrepancies and inconsistencies about the dates... I digress...

For most of my life as a nurse, i really viewed this as a hallmark holiday:

Thanks for the shout-out, Hallmark, no matter how much money you make on cards this year, you can't possibly know about being a nurse and therefore, not really honor it.

When I was a teen? pre-tween? I'm not sure when this show was on... I was addicted to China Beach. Looking back, I had a serious crush on Lt. Colleen McMurphy:
Yum: Mee:

There I go digressing again... Anyway... Sometimes I credited this show to making me want to be a nurse, I didn't want to go to war, but i could really relate to this character- Irish, catholic, who wanted to DO something that mattered, but then in the middle of it was like, "What the hell am I doing?!?"

I think i was surprised when I worked in the ICU (years later) how much it could feel like you were living through a war even though you were in a civilian hospital during "peace" time. The woman and men that I nursed with in the ICU were amazing: smart, sassy, with the quickest wit and the crass-est, sickest senses of humor you can imagine. You've got to have a strong stomach and a lot of patience for shit (of the literal and bull variety.) And they did. And they laughed and cried and picked people and pools of blood up off the floor. And we ordered Chinese take out in the middle of cardiac codes, and helped families accept the death of their loved ones, and talked and taught and fought the doctors to get them to HEAR what the patients were saying.

I wear that experience like a badge of honor on my soul. But even so, it never made me view nurses day outside of the scope of cynicism. (see made up sassy bark to Hallmark corp above...)

Then this year... when I'm so far removed from clinical care of patients that I've started to call myself a "fake" nurse, Katy wins a Nightingale Award. This is a statewide recognition of nursing excellence. And sitting next to her at the ceremony, something changes a little in me. A little of the cynicism melts away. It is more than being proud of her and thrilled that she was recognized for all the amazing work she does and has done. (Though I am and I was). It had a lot to do with what happened last October and Last January, and Last September...

A nurse was there kind of saving and protecting us when ML gushed into the world.
A nurse was there in my most terrified moments, when I wouldn't even let myself think my worst fear about his illness and fevers and seizures three weeks later.
A nurse was up all night with us when his fever wouldn't come down.
A nurse was there to help get him help when he was having seizures.
Nurses were there, talking to and teaching and sometimes fighting the doctors on our behalf.
A nurse was there during all the LPs, during the MRI, during the EEG.
... During the nights, the early mornings, and the long afternoons.
A nurse was there to help us get some rest and to help us ask the right questions.
To help us calm down a little at certain points and and to get us riled up a little at others.
Then a few months later for JB's surgery... more nurses.
Many of them nameless to me now.
Keeping us sane...

It's different when it's your kid, I guess- those cliches about angels seem somehow less "cliche-y"
There's not a greeting card out there that can convey what those nurses did for us, but now there IS a part of me that has the inclination to buy a few and TRY to convey it...

But then, here we are on Mother's day. And as I write this, my pretty Nightingale Award winner is sleeping upstairs in our bed. She's an amazing mother. Tonight, she got JB to turn off a "Terrible 2" tantrum by suggesting that he could take his "bad attitude" and decide (IF HE WANTED TO) to put that bad attitude in his hand and throw it away and choose to be in a better mood. (I swear this is true.) And what do you think that little fucker sonofa'gun did??? He decided to throw his bad mood away. He pantomimed putting something into his palm and chucking it in the garbage and then (WAIT FOR IT) he was suddenly in a pleasant mood.

blink.
blink.
blink.

Thank God I'm on this journey with such an insanely talented and smart woman. I just love her and hope she knows how much! Cause I didn't get to sign the card I bought for her today...

Happy nurses week and mother's day, baby.

As part of my gift to you, I am going to (be extremely quiet as I come) crawl into bed next to you to sleep this day off!
All my love, Me

xoxo

ML's church dedication

Today was not only Easter, but also ML's church dedication.



We belong to a UU that we love that I've written about here.

The dedication is a variation on "Baptism" but instead of washing away the sins of all humanity to make your baby pure, we really stick to focusing on welcoming the child into the church and a promise from the congregation to be there for the child and the family of the child...

We lit the chalice:


Well, JB would tell you that HE lit the chalice...


(Stop looking at my chest, ya'll!!!)

It is a really sweet ceremony and whenever we watch (from the pews) a family act out this ritual, we get kind of choked up. Today was no different from this side of the event.







It was a good excuse to dress these adorable kids up in their "Sunday best"... and man were they cute...











To be clear, there are more pics of JB b/c we were all dying about how cute his suit was, and ML had just woken up and wasn't really interested in getting his picture taken.









Cam and Mac = beautiful!


All four cousins!!!

We then hosted Easter dinner for 16 adults/Teens and 6 kids age four or younger. It turned out to be an amazing day. The weather was as close to heaven as you can get this time of year. It was sunny, about 70 degrees F with a cool breeze. There was an Easter egg hunt (which ML slept through).











chocolate:



and a chance to dress in more casual wear:



We had surf and turf (mom brought the baked stuffed shrimp, and I roasted a filet loin on the grill. I was worried about how it would come out, but it was DEE-lish-ous!!! Having the chance to use the indoors and the outdoors, made things very simple in terms of space and having plenty of seating and the ability to SPREAD OUT and enjoy the weather and the party.

Our guests were very complimentary and very helpful and in general it was just wonderful!

ML took 2 substantial naps- he was tuckered out from being the center of attention this AM. JB did NOT take ANY naps except the 20 minutes he slept on the way home from church. Somehow with him we averted disaster in term of a napless melt down.



You are super cute, little boy... Congratulations on your big day!!!

Oh, the PEEPS dessert is here!!!