I Know You Are, But What Am I?

My son received a text message form a friend who is bisexual, "I said 'hey' to someone and they told me 'F*** you fag.'  Being friendly=gay."   

I asked my son if he ever gets treated like this and he laughed and said no.  But, then back stepped a bit and said, "Well, you hear people say stuff, but I just blow it off."  He reassured me most people don't give him any problems; I think his thick skin filters most of the ugliness out, but he wasn't born with that armor.  When he was younger, I always reassured him there was nothing he could ever say or do that would change my love for him and he would always have my support.  This was my way of saying, "When you're ready to tell me you're gay, I promise to still love and support you."  He was only 5, so a little finesse was required.  He finally came out when he was in 8th grade and even after years of preparation, it knocked the wind out of me.  When asked today, my son will tell you I made a BIG DEAL out of it and in retrospect I guess I did.  I had bottled up years of saved speeches, so when he finally told me I slowly and methodically began to suffocate him with each of those speeches.  Unconditional love speech.  Personal safety speech.  Identity speech.  Safe sex speech.  I wish I would have hugged him and let the moment sustain in love and security.  The (s)mothering speeches should have waited.  I reacted with the force of an emergency response team, when really it was just my kid coming to me with something that took a lot of courage to discuss.  Damn it, I wish I could do that moment over again.

In the years leading to his coming out, my son dealt with frequent ridicule from peers.  His name was Gay, Faggot and Homo, as if this was the main identifying trait of his existence and his love for baking, music, art and computers bared no relevance.  After he finally did make the big announcement, "Yes, I'm gay!" he felt relief.  His peers quit with the names and he had more girlfriends than Tiger Woods.  His friend base changes often, since my husband's job requires us to move frequently and every few years he has to reintroduce himself as, 'the gay kid'.  Even this doesn't seem to bother him; the years of trying to hide, conform and figure out 'why in the hell am I so different' were more difficult.

Attempting to fit the social mold of perfection sucks and will eventually break a child.  I bought him GI Joe action figures and forced him to play soccer and basketball, none of which he enjoyed.  After he told me sports weren't his thing, I stopped pushing my desire for all star child bragging rights.  My child's life cannot represent my identity, it must be his own.  So, if he would rather bake, play on the computer and listen to music, so be it!  He doesn't have to be a jock to be healthy and if he's not emotionally strong, ambition becomes lost.  My all star child bragging rights can remain intact, because he's comfortable in his own skin and feels no need to fit the obnoxious mold of social perfection.  Perfection does not exist.  Control, also does not exist.  Chasing the two is a waste of energy and time (I'm only just learning this).  This race has been a relay, he now runs with the baton and it's his turn to round the corner and finish.  We are a team hoping to land a place in health and happiness and have our sights on the greatest prize: equality.  The fabulous irony is all parents want these very basic things for their children, whether they be gay or straight.  Sexuality should never play a role in these inherent rights.  Happiness.  Health.  Equality.  Being friendly=being humane.

Giddyup!

 

 

  One of my best friends recently had a baby and I've been struck with temporary baby fever.  I know it's temporary, because my husband had a date with the frozen pea vendor several years ago.  Still, the smell of lavender oatmeal baby wash and the sound of sweet cries for comfort pull at my heart and leave me daydreaming about the grandchildren I will have, many, many, many years from now.  My children have strict orders to finish college, find a stable job, save some money and THEN consider marriage.  Naturally, their partner selection will need to be pre-approved by me and chances are, I'm not going to like them.  There's a little leeway in this mindset with my son who is gay, since I won't be competing with another woman, but I anticipate a few kinks.  I've already begun sabotaging my youngest with helpful hints like, "If she asks you if she looks fat and she does: just tell her the truth.  She'll love you for it."  My husband usually swoops in saying, "Mommy's just joking, you DO NOT want to say that to a girl."  I give my youngest a smile to let him know I'm just being silly, but my inner Wicked Witch of the West mother in law persona is strategically grinding away.  Alright, I don't plan on being quite so extreme, but I do worry about them finding someone to cherish them as I do.

  Back to the matter of babies.  My son and I were watching a giggling baby video on Youtube and he reminded me that he plans on having children one day.  His vision is to use surrogacy, an intricate and costly option, and I fully support the notion.  The mom in me wants to discuss the dynamics of surrogacy (pros and cons and cost!), but I don't want to impede his desire to parent.  The inclusion of children in a marriage is a normal desire, regardless of the parent's sexual orientation, so it's good for him to dream about.  One problem, however, seems fairly obvious and I asked him, "How do you choose whose sperm will be used?"  The decision on that one definitely goes outside of paper, rock, scissors.  He shook his head at my ignorance and smiled, "Mom (long pause for the 'duh' effect), we'll have two babies."  Well that settles it.  Once again, I've managed to over complicate matters.  I love how matter of fact he was about gay couples having children and hope he's able to achieve those dreams without restraint or prejudice.  I'm ready to give progress a good giddyup in the rear.   
 

Tangent Girl!

If I were to be a super hero, I would be Tangent Girl.  My super human ability to distract people’s thoughts and even actions with the use of clever tangents could one day save the world from complete annihilation.  I’ve decided to engage this strength and discuss a few matters completely unrelated to being lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender or questioning.  We’ve entered a new and perhaps final year: 2012, The Year Time Runs Out.  The need for super heroes will be greater than ever before, so before matters become too hectic I’d like to discuss a few minor things that really, really bother me.  Tangent away!

Here we go:

1) Water rings on countertops.  I understand water glasses are going to make rings, but when the sunlight enters in a horizontal position and skims across the countertops only to reveal what appears to be a year’s worth of failed wiping attempts, my heart starts to race.  It feels like a precursor to filth, which is probably why we were taught at my Catholic grade school that French kissing is a sin.  Using this same logic, water rings on countertops are also a sin.

2) People who leave one towel on the paper towel roll, to avoid the obligation of changing it.  This one bothers me in particular, because I am guilty of the behavior and feel like I’ve been out smarted when the action is reciprocated.  I don’t like cleaning water rings with a paper towel crusted with wide strips of glue, but I also hate having to unscrew the paper towel holder to change the roll.  The forces of Dark versus Light are constantly at battle and paper towel replacement is no exception.  Wait just one minute.  Clarity has revealed itself!  The water rings have been GLUED to my countertop from using the last paper towel on the paper towel roll!  Another conspiracy unraveled.  Moving on.

3) Toilet paper in the going under position. Toilet paper is not meant to be a page from the Kama Sutra.  In the going under scenario, I almost need a map as I paw at the unseen flap of 2-ply, just so I can wipe my ass.  More gruesome, I inadvertently wipe the wall as I feel around for the toilet paper flap, which renders it used.  It’s at this point I fling the roll off the dispenser and replace it in the going over position.  The last three squares of toilet paper are then disposed of since I’ve previously used it to wipe the wall’s ass instead of my own.  Be a good citizen and always place toilet paper rolls in the going over position.  Your friends will love you for it. 

4) On the fly, phone call friends.  This would be the friend that calls you only when driving, clearly as a time killer.  These conversations are typically lacking in quality, since the main subject focuses on the problematic driver in front of them and listening to their ‘have it your way’ drive-thru order.  I tend to avoid these calls and often screen friends for possible phone call on the fly infractions.  Should I realize I am being used as a time killer, chances are I will not be picking up your next phone call any time soon.  If more than 75% of our phone conversations take place on the fly and only last from point A to B, consider yourself an offender.      

     

I’ll wrap things up with just one more vent.

5) Adults who baby talk to other adults.  Cutesy baby voices and replacing the letter ‘l’ in love with a ‘w’, when talking to another adult, is downright nauseating and causes me to feel hostile.  I am instantly convinced the cavity of their skull is void of all brain matter and begin to wonder if they believe the same of me.  Why are you talking to me like a baby?  I have 3 children and droopy boobs.  At what point did I mislead you to believe otherwise?  I am not wearing a diaper (yet)…leave the baby talk for babies.    

This was just a sample of things that bother me, but my desire to tangent has been satisfied so I’ll end it there.  I know greater conflicts compromise our society (some one please gag Rick Santorum), but I still encourage you to sweat the small stuff.  You might find yourself laughing, or at a minimum, helping a friend to understand the importance of toilet paper going over versus under.  Together we can make a difference.