Curiosity

I've been going the rounds over on Evan's blog about gay parenting. It's taken up all my blogging time and so I'll just link to it as my mid-week post :-).

here

The post that spawned all that commenting kind of reminds me of the time Brian came home from school the first day and started running around the kitchen yelling "mommy, mommy", an event I related, here.

In Evan's post an account of one of Rosie O'Donnell's sons is related. In it he is said to ask why he doesn't have a father and that is used by Bill Maier to argue against same-sex parenting. Of course, a child's wondering about the way his family is should not be a big deal and no one would judge heterosexual families by celebrity parents (I hope); anyway, I went over all that in those comments.

Still, I'm kind of left wondering, if that truly is the case for the O'Donnells, why it hasn't been for us or really all the children of same-sex parents we know here I can think of (and you bet we nervously ask each other about such things at our monthly get-togethers). The topic only comes up with our kids if we bring it up, aside from that nothing of an event I mentioned above. Our kids simply show no idea there is a "thing" about our family's difference, and, frankly, while I'm happy for that, it's kind of surprising. I've been bracing for at least a tough question here or there. I remember even a jewish friend telling me how different she felt her family was early on here in Utah, but our kids just don't seem to notice and their classmates don't seem to care.

Maybe the fact that they aren't even curious about our difference is a bit more evidence that things are changing quickly, even in Utah. If only it happened a decade before we got here.

How is Babby Formed?

Ah, the value of learning from Yahoo! Answers. Take this question and answer for example:


This came to mind as Alan and I just got into a half hour long conversation about were babies come from, on our way up the canyon.

It's surprising how easy it was. That's the sort of thing they teach you to fear as a parent, but by the end of it I'd answered all his questions comfortably and honestly. We even got into pretty involved topics of genetics, identical vs fraternal twins, and the influence of genes on both a person's body and mind.

Okay, so there were some lies of omission, but it worked and led to a good discussion and some wonderful realizations about cells and genes on his part. Someday they'll ask how people physically bring the two "cells, containing half your plans" together to build another cell that uses those plans to divide and make more cells until you have a baby... I'll deal with that then :-). I'm just glad to get this far without leaving him with what I had gleamed from cartoons at his age and beyond: the vague idea that it has something to do with cabbage and big awkward birds.

Disconnecting the Buttons

A couple days ago at our kid's soccer practice I saw one of their friends run up to his dad screaming and kicking at him. The kid was yelling "I hate you! I hate you!" I'm not sure what the dad did in the child's mind--something about soccer practice--but the father just calmly subdued his son until the kid was ready to talk.

We've never heard those words from our sons, but I've seen enough kids yell in a moment of frustration "I hate you" or "You hate me" or so on to their parent. I have to expect our boys may try the tactic out some day between here and when they wake up from their teens. Kids, they are great scientists at times and will test many hypotheses in order to learn how their parents work, how socialization works (and doesn't).

The odd thing to me is I don't imagine it bothering me much today, and yet I think 7 years ago I'd have said hearing my child say such things would bring me to my knees. Maybe they will at some point feel even that seething rage for us, the sort I saw on the soccer field the other day. But just as that parent seemingly felt, so what? You can't let it get to you, let their experiment work, right?

I know where we stand as parents, and know, at times, they won't like us. Cliche, but it really is not my job to be liked; it's my job to create a healthy happy and ethical adult out of a diaper-wearing, spit-up-spewing, babbling helpless baby. That's a lot of road to work through on its own. We can hope to be loved in return as a side effect, but it's not what a parent should aim for, and so far that's working out great, occasional complaint aside because "we never got any new toys in a long time" (said with a straight face in the midst of their toy-packed room).

Simply, we all know kids sometimes look to push their parent's buttons in hopes of getting what they shouldn't. With us in particular though--and I think this is the reason seeing one of their peers act in such a way stuck in my mind--I also know we, as gay parents, have more potential buttons for them to test than some other couples.

I wonder if the day will come when my sweet little boys will test out such potential verbal nuclear options. Like the stereotype of adoptive families, we may be hit with a "You're not my real father". Or, maybe they'll pull out a "I wish we were a normal family" as you'll hear recounted from some Jewish parents in these parts. Maybe they'll even shoot off a "I wish I had a mother" or a "I never asked to be born" or a "I hate my family". Maybe they'll rebel in their teens and shave a mohawk on top of their tattooed skulls, or, worse, rebel and go to BYU ;-).

Or maybe we'll never hear such words. I never used them as a kid myself and of all the same-sex headed families we know here, we've not got wind of such and we do talk a lot about our particular issues. I don't know--no parent does--but these are the sort of things some kids might try to use to manipulate their parents.

I guess the point I'm winding myself to with this rambling is that we, as parents and gay parents, should expect this possibility. We should be prepared for it, and be certain those buttons are disconnected from the explosives before they're ever tested, even if they'll never be tested.

It may be easy to say, never having faced it, but, as I imagine how I'd feel if I were that father being kicked and told my son hated me on the soccer field, I'm unexpectedly comfortable with our kids testing those buttons. I know I love them; I know what a real father does; I know who they are better than most anyone they'll ever know. When they fall, I know and they know who'll be there for them.

That's not to say I'm comfortable without qualification. They could hurt me like no other person in all existence, but that's what you pay for parenthood, and it really is one hell of a bargain.

Falling Coconuts Kill More People than Sharks

We’re about to begin construction on a fort. Anyone who remembers the design for our sandbox, which rocks, will know the fort will be very cool as well: room enough to stand in, weather proof, matches the home siding and colors, power (Ethernet?), with a trap door/secret entrance in the floor that leads to the sand box. While dreaming of fort features, Rob suggested putting in fold out bunks on the wall, so the boys could sleep outside…

Now, when I was a kid, I slept outside with friends on our tramp almost every summer weekend. We’d bounce around, joke, and play games. Once we got tired, we’d lay there expressing our small minds while staring into the stars, well past our regular bed time and well out of the earshot of any adult. You could still see then the swath of the Milky Way in the sky of our suburb.

Those nights contain some of my fondest memories from childhood, even those nights we forgot to turn the sprinkler system off :-).

But at Rob’s suggestion of bunks in the fort, my first thought was no way. No way would I let our kids sleep outside. Times are different here in Utah, aren’t they? Right now Utah is mourning the death of Hser Ner Moo, kidnapped and murdered by her neighbor. Elizabeth Smart was taken right out of her home and out the backyard. Why make such easier by putting the kids one step closer to that unimaginable wilderness, where I can’t hear a thing, right?

I’ll admit that I’ve gone overboard at times. We’ve been threatened and it has made me cautious; I know there are people out there who’d think it right that our family was split up, if not worse. So when we built out home, I personally installed our security system. Now I can track any motion in the home and know when even the neighbor’s dog has been through the yard :-). I connected it all to the home automation system, and even installed cameras.

I know all that is ridiculous. But I did it so that I wouldn’t have to think about it and now I don’t, much. But let the kids sleep outside?

We’ve got some years before they’re old enough by most people’s measure, but what to do when that day comes?

Fact probably is that such caution is irrational caution. How many people, children, now live in our valley? Of them, how many are kidnapped and killed? I’m pretty sure it’s no more a percentage than it was when I was a kid, when there were no Amber Alerts or 24 hr news channels. And even if it is higher, the odds must be miniscule.

In fact, the leading cause of death for children is accidents, mainly automobile accidents, and yet I strap them into the car everyday.

So am I being ridiculous to be hesitant? Do/would you let your children sleep outside without you in a city or suburb? Am I being one of those over-protective parents? I don’t want them to even know such a worry exists; I want them to talk with their buddies late into the night where they know we can’t hear them; I want them to sleep on the tramp, under the stars, even if the Milky Way has been drown out; I want them to be awoke at 3 AM by the sprinklers they forgot to turn off... It’s just that, while the odds may be low of any harm coming of it, the consequences mean the world.

Sheesh, parenting is complicated. Maybe I’ll put motion detectors and intercom in the fort ;-)…

The Road Ahead

On the cruise from which we just returned, one of my favorite events is the teen panel. I worry quite a bit about the teen years for our boys and want to be as prepared as possible; in four years I’ve never missed it.

This year the kids were from all over the country: Kentucky, Texas, San Francisco, LA, Las Vegas and more. They were in families with two moms, two dads, and some that began in a heterosexual marriage. The panel was made up of ten teens, and they took questions from the audience.

I took some (incomplete) notes, and thought other gay parents around here might also be interest in what they had to say, so:

1. What’s one thing you’d tell the parents on this ship (gay and lesbian parents)?

a. Don’t do things differently because our families are different. The example of special, sheltered or uniquely liberal schools was given. The teens felt it best to just go and do whatever you would without the worry of backlash. They felt the obstacles, if even encountered, weren’t worth being protected against and that doing so underestimated them, limited them, and got in the way of positive change that could happen otherwise.

I know this one is something Rob and I both do and don’t. The twine go to a school they may not have otherwise, but it’s not liberal in philosophy or families. We picked it for the scholastics and the control and involvement they let parents have, so that, if anything did happen, we’d be able to better intervene. On the other hand we’ve pretty much stayed away from shelter; we’re just about to head out to their soccer game, and we're all about the play dates :-).

b. Be honest. Some of these kids were born in heterosexual marriages that later dissolved for their parent’s orientation. Their other advice was to never try to hide the fact of why. As an example one kid told the lesbians to not call their wife their “roommate.” Your children know more than you think, and they want you to be clear.

Kind of on this topic, after listening to these teens talk and say the words repeatedly, Brian, for the first time ever, asked us what ‘gay’ means. We never would have tried to hide anything from them in this area, but it did feel nice to begin explaining this difference at their speed. Even if they haven’t much noticed and it was as momentous to Brian as explaining what, say, beverage means, as I did this morning, it felt good to have that definition out of the way.

2. Is it important to you to have friends in gay or lesbian-headed families?

I was kind of surprised at the answers to this one. We've tried to be sure our boys have friends in similar families. But these teens basically said no. They think it is good to know other kids who are in such families and to be able to talk to them, but that that was not how they made their friendships or cared to. They said they mainly want to know people raised in similar families, facing similar issues are there, but that they made friends by common interests, as any high school student does, I suppose.

3. Have you faced bullying at school?

My ears perked up at this one, but I was pleasantly surprised. Out of 10 teens only 2 said they’d faced bullying. One problem was within a wrestling team and it was put to an abrupt end by the coach (in Kentucky!) and now the kids are fine, and the other was with a girl’s soccer team which wasn’t handled as well. Still, even the siblings from Texas reported no bullying, being happy with their peers, and fitting in well at school.

The only thing that was reported by the majority was some annoyance at peers using ‘gay’ as a pejorative, but they felt it was unintentional, a bad cultural habit, and their friends all changed their ways at the explanation of why that was demeaning to their family. In fact, most agreed that it kind of helped in their high school socialization, with the new generation thinking it somewhat “cool” to have gay parents, and those friends that were taken aback by their family were fine in time.

4. Do people sometimes assume you’re gay because your parents are?

Yes, sometimes. About half the kids said they’d been mistaken as gay (none of them identified as gay or lesbian, though). Still, none seemed phased by it, of course, as they see it as offensive as being assumed to be left-handed.

Anyway, that’s all I have. I’m left still wanting to keep a healthy degree of nervousness, but encouraged. I’d simply be honored to raise our boys into teens as articulate, thoughtful, confident and charismatic as those on this panel. While I know we’ve hurdles to leap ahead of us, I can’t help but think those hurdles are getting smaller with each year, and to see such fine examples of those who have made it through already does put the mind at ease… somewhat :-).

My Mother Said to Pick the Very Best One...

After the first day of elementary school Brian got home and a while later I heard him saying “Mommy mommy,” for the first time. He was playing in the kitchen and I went in and casually asked why he was saying that. I wondered if a teacher confronted him about not having a mom? A child, or a parent?

No, nothing like that. Turns out one traumatized classmate was crying for his mother after being left for the first day and Brian was just mimicking him. As any parent knows, unless you keep them locked home, kids will sponge up whatever their classmates bring to school. We’ve gained everything from Alan’s threat of “Why I otta,” to Brian's asking us last week what sticking up the middle finger means.

None of this should be surprising, and it isn’t to the gay parents I know. No gay or lesbian parent I know wants to keep their child from the concept of different families. On the contrary, we spend probably more time than most talking to our children about the different family types in which their friends are growing up. They have everything from friends with two moms to those adopted by a single dad, though most in mom-dad households.

In the face of differences, we try to teach our boys to be considerate and respectful. When they’ve expressed sadness for friends that have a dad but not a papa, we’ve told them that while their friend may not have a papa, by name, they do have other people from mothers to grandparents doing the parenting they’ve come to associate with “papas.” From personal experience I know if there’s anything more insulting than an insult, it’s biased pity and I don’t want our boys to harbor it. Just as our boys don't need different parents, neither do their friends. And they seem to understand now, that their friends are not lacking and the parenting they receive isn’t really different; it’s just the labels and surface appearances.

We also tell them that most men likely fall in love with women, and most people they’ll meet have a mom and a dad. Civility aside, we want them to be fully cognizant of families different from ours because they’ll likely create one themselves. My parents were not a gay couple, but they did show me that being a father and husband was an option for me with a man or a woman. They also gave me a great model on which any healthy family could be structured. I’m eternally grateful and hope to do at least as much for our boys.

This brings me to the issue of what has happened in California. A bill was passed and signed which forbade discrimination against gay children and the children of gays and lesbians in schools. Clearly, with this anti-gay bigotry-fuled murder of an 8th grader in California such a law aimed at changing anti-gay atmosphere in some schools is needed. Nevertheless, the bill upset many people, and they seemingly weren't slowed by that murder. They created a movement to repeal the law, and urged parents to take their children out of public school lest they become “indoctrinated” by the great communist plot to treat gay people and their children with civility and equality.

I’ve been following it for a while, but there was an editorial on the topic in today’s tribune, here, which brought it back to mind.

So what’s their big rallying cry? It’s that the gays are trying to take the words "mom" and "dad" out of the classroom. These people have so twisted it in their mind that to merely use those words is somehow to discriminate against gays or our children. How queerly hysterical is that? How deceptive? There is not a household headed by a gay or lesbian couple that doesn’t have a mom or dad in it, and they think we want to ban the words?

What we want is for our children to be as included in their school as other children, for them to be as protected from classmates as any other child is protected. We have nothing against talking about mothers or celebrating a mother’s day at school; we just expect to be allowed to have a family member there too. If each kid gets a day to talk about their family, we expect our kids to have the same time. If someone harasses our children, we certainly want action.

What we don’t want is to fall into the same trap that apparently has our opponents ensnared, that idea that it has to be hysterical, that we have to make a big deal of it if a different family is discussed and treated civilly in the classroom. We know we’re a minority and right now our boys think nothing more than “so what?” about it, and use the notion casually, almost too casually. We don’t want to be the ones to make a big deal of labels for them. And I hope we are not.

It’s funny, on this topic, one of our favorite books is The Runaway Bunny. When our boys are snuggled in my lap, they know that book is about a mother and her son. They can read. I've explained that I substitute Papa in there for Mother, and they love the book all the same (if not more for the idea of me in a girl’s circus outfit). But they don’t ultimately care about any of that. They care that I’ll search for them when they are hidden, that I’ll walk a tight rope or climb a mountain for them. They care that I’ll be the tree to which they may always come home, that I’ll be the wind to take them there, and that there I’ll be waiting for them with arms wide and welcoming, no matter where they go or what they do or who they are, or even if I’m not physically present anymore.

Why? Sometimes they ask why; I tell them “because you are my little bunny, and I am your papa and that’s what I do, that’s what I’m here for.”

Best stop. I’m getting weepy :-).

In short, if this bill really meant taking books such as the Runaway Bunny out of the schools, I’d be fighting it along side my opposition. We know the warmth of the ideas in such books easily eclipse the m or f on a birth certificate. But we also think another of our boy’s favorite books, And Tango Makes Three, should be shelved at their school too.

Cigar.s Root

Nothing makes the world seem more simultaneously threatening and hopeful, both broken and perfect than welcoming a child into it.

Is There Another Shoe?

We’ve known some of the kids in our boys’ class for about two years and know their parents as well. In turn they know our family. But, as the twins are in different classes this year, there are now some kids and parents we don’t know so well, and I’ve been worried how they’d react to our family.

We got another hint the other day when Rob and I decided to surprise the boys and meet them for lunch. This was the first time we’d both been there for lunch at the same time. I was sitting with Alan and Rob with Brian at first, as they eat with their classes at separate tables.

While Rob was eating he overheard a kid lean over to another boy and ask him who Rob was. The boy told him Rob was Brian’s dad. Confused, the first kid pointed across the room to me and said he thought I was Brian and Alan’s dad, as he’d sat next to me at lunch a week before.

Our boy’s friend just said as casually as anything, “He’s their papa. They have two dads.” And that was it. With an “oh” they were talking about something else.

If I’m to trust the word of their wonderful teachers during our recent conference, our boys are doing great, academically and socially. They are popular and loved. One’s picking up reading amazingly quick and the other is on schedule. The same goes with mathematics. (Man, kids learn a lot more and sooner nowadays; I can’t wait for the day they stump me :-).) I wonder if the teachers inadvertently try to tell us what we want to hear, but I know, in discussions with other parents, they can and do give warnings when other kids are in trouble. We’ve even been told “I only wish I had 1o others doing as well as he is,” at which I swelled :-).

I do, though, get worried, too worried apparently, that there will be some issue, some fight, some struggle for our boys when they meet up with the teachings of this conservative culture in their peers. However, that point is not here now, and seems to be retreating more quickly into the older generation than the speed at which our boys are growing into their own (and that seems so very fast!).

The culture really has changed dramatically for the better. With twins, it seems we go to a birthday party about every week. I know Bouncing off the Walls like the back of my hand. While at all these parties, everyone is quite nice, no cold shoulders. Heck, most of the time the birthday boy or girl’s family has their gay friend there helping out, or their lesbian sister, or what have you. Someone has already been there in their life, building those relationships between the gay and the conservative community that make the lives of our children that much easier here. It seems such involvement and openness has produced a real sea change here. I mean, think how things were in the suburbs of Utah only a decade ago.

But is it over? Can my children's generation just go on with an “oh” and get back to their lunch, as it were?

I know some parents who might have a problem with us are still trying to figure out how to discuss our family with their children and who knows where they’ll end up. There is the one boy in Brian’s class, from a conservative LDS family who keeps talking about heaven in school (which has led to some pretty funny conversations in our home, as Brian has confused the idea of Heaven being a fun place above us with his astronomy books and a bit of Super Mario Galaxy mixed in). This kid also told Brian the other day that two men could get legally married in Hawaii. Clearly his parents weren’t up on the actual law and only remember the controversy, but the important thing to me is that, even one of the most conservative family there, is trying. They are talking about it and apparently distinguishing between being married and legally married, which is fine by me. Everything has been respectful, and nothing has hurt our boy’s feelings, yet...

So, am I wasting time and energy waiting for the other shoe to drop, or best to be prepared anyway? I don’t know.

Dividing Labor

In an attempt to smear my perfectly tolerable name, Mr. Fob has suggested that I don’t do enough around the house (no doubt in order to improve the chances that a fruit, one that’s like 50% pit, will be elected president).

It may be kind of different how labor becomes divided in a home with two men or two women. So, to explain (and defend myself!), this is how it’s done. We split it up by who’s good at what. I have the lamb skins and so I’m the one with the out of the home career, and he’s a stay at home dad because that’s where most his talents are, but it’s more complicated than that.

Honors Given to Scot:

Bringer of Bacon
Bather of Wild Children
Hanger of Pictures
Slayer of Spiders
Vanquisher of Trash
Taskmaster of Homework
Preparer of Children for School and Bed
Assembler of Breakfast
Scary Monster, Sith Lord, or Hide and Seek Ninja between the hours of 5 and 8 PM.
Main Cleaner of all Things Unmentionable
Handy Man, a title on which my ego demands elaboration.
Builder and Designer of Sand Boxes
Designer of Playhouses (Est. Completion Date: June 2008)
Installer and Designer of our Home Automation, Security, Network, and Sound Systems
Novice Electrician (Yes, it’s as imprudent as it sounds.)
And just yesterday I built a nicely framed, 2 ft by 6 ft cork board for each of the boy’s rooms, for art display :-). I don’t know that that deserves a title. Still, they are cool, if I do say so myself, custom made, and I can’t wait for the paint to dry so that I can get that art up.
BBQ’er
Computer Tamer
Sole Operator of Home Entertainment Systems (See, the trick is to make it so complicated that you become indispensible.)

Honors Given to Rob:

Creator of Dinner. (But somehow and unlike the situation in other families, this doesn’t mean he’s the one who continually gets up to get the kids all the extra stuff they ask for, until dinner has gone cold. Generally, he’s the cook and I’m the waiter)
Cleaner of Homes
Launderer of Laundry
Baker of Cookies
Blower of Snow
Planter of Flowers and Gardens
Hunter and Gatherer of Food and Clothing
Payer of Bills

Of course, we do cross over into each other’s realm at times and there are some job titles we share pretty much 50/50, like the Doer of Dishes.

I also suppose I’ve numerous easy jobs and a couple larger responsibilities, while Rob has more quality than quantity, but I think it balances out :-).

(Did I make myself sound useful enough?)

Making Home

Rob has been out of commission for a couple days and so I’m the substitute homemaker here. I swear I’ve done about a dozen loads of laundry already. I've not had time for even one soap opera or episode of Divorce Court. I thought Rob sat home all day and watched TV while eating bonbons, or something, maybe intermixed with the occasional reading of Rosie's Blog ;-). Instead it turns out there’s a lot to do here, and after a couple days I find myself thankful for other things, beyond people lending a hand.

--The Roomba, my little robot helper. I conveniently got one for Rob for Christmas, and instead my gift has saved me from vacuuming. It’s also fun to watch it feel its way through the home while the dog runs from the thing in terror.

--Kraft Macaroni & Cheese—It’s the cheesiest. It’s also one thing I can make that Alan will eat. That, PB&H, and canned salmon from CostCo. He’s a particular eater, and so it’s that and take-out for him until Rob is back to normal.

--Now, I’ve had much multidisciplinary training in the sciences—I’m a PhD for goodness sake—but I can’t figure out how Tide’s bleach knows to bleach the ketchup stain on a white shirt but not the purposeful pigment on a red shirt. Regardless, I’m thankful for magic bleach.

--On the same topic, Downey. Rob’s mom never used it and so when we met he associated the smell with me. Keep your fancy colognes, the smell of Downey makes me feel attractive now, and I like using it.

--Sheeting action.

--And finally, the ipod. How did people do housework before podcasts?

Things for which I’m not thankful:

--Molten sugar. My blistered index finger could do a PSA on the dangers of grabbing a smoking pop tart from the toaster.

(Hmm… Maybe this back thing was all a ruse just to make me more thankful for Rob...)

The Sins of This Father

After that last post I kind of worry I talked myself up too much as a parent :-). I think I’ll take a bit of Mr. Fob’s example and give a couple parental confessions a shot.

1. More than once but not more than five times I’ve answered “Because I told you to.” In response to “Why?” I promised myself I’d never use such a non-answer with our boys, and it used to grate on me when I heard other parents use it… but, beyond the tenth level of why’s after I ask them to do something, promises to self get broken. It will never happen again, I promise.

2. Twice I’ve brushed one of my son’s teeth with the other’s toothbrush. Yes, my heart sunk too when I realized it. Of course, I’ve no good defense for this one. There are simply those occasional nights when bed time can be what one might imagine it’d be like to go into the jungle, chase down and restrain a wild chimp, cajole it into Sponge Bob pajamas, and hope for it to calm down while you read it a story. Add to that the dim light of bedtime and I hope, boys, if you’re reading this in horror as an adult, you’ll give a modicum of forgiveness to your pop.

3. I ate some, only some of their candy after they went to bed last Halloween, and never got caught.

4. I taught them what the speed limit is and how to read the digital speedometer on our car. This may not sound bad; I know I didn’t anticipate any problems. Now, though, every time I go even a mile per hour over what’s posted, I make them think their father is turning to a life of crime. How to explain “But everybody does it, everybody goes about 5 over!” to your kids? You think about the teen years and you don’t. That’s how. Now I’m stuck by fear of guilt at exactly the speed limit, as I probably should be; parents be warned.

5. There have been times I’ve hurt my children by assuming they understood something on my level when I should have known they only heard it on their level. For example, our boys did pre-school three days a week, half-day. Kindergarten, though, is all day, and that’s how I phrased it, “all day.” First day of kindergarten, I found Brian crying, and he wouldn’t tell me why. After some talking he let out that he was sad because, in his mind, he’d not be home until bed time. When he understood that “all day” just meant he’d be at school for lunch and two more hours, he was fine, but my heart broke to think he imagined that’s what we wanted or were asking.

6. In one of our home videos I reversed the frames so that it looks like they’re sliding up a slide. When last at that same playground, Brian was trying to remember how he did that, slide up a slide. I thought it was so cute that I didn’t relieve him of his confusion. My excuse was that I want him to figure such out for himself, but to see him experiment at the bottom of that slide… well, I admit I was more motivated by the cuteness than imparting any lesson about magic or physics, contrary to my parenting policy on such. .

7. I have accused one son for something the other did. Okay, yes, sometime’s I’m not a great detective when I find a crime scene in the home, and face two suspects refusing to fess up. I have been fooled by circumstantial evidence. I feel horrible to have put one kid in the position of defending himself from false accusations, not to mention letting the other feel they can get off scot-free that way. Once, they even got heat for a mess I made; I did, though, confess. I’m grateful they seem to have begun to take responsibility more readily, but I am very sorry for those couple instances.

I’m sure there are others ways in which I’ve fallen short. I hate to think on some of the more serious of those above (though, sure, I don’t have much penitence for, say, eating their candy). Every parent is probably bothered that they’re not the perfect parent. Nevertheless, no one is, and I’d hate to have a parent who thought they were.

Simply, in defending my family’s right to be and have equal treatment, I hope to never give the impression that I think we do everything right as parents. Like most any parents, we may do an overall good job for our children, but we fail at times too, and still have much to learn with each new phase of their lives. I wish we could do so without the added scrutiny, without feeling like we have to be twice as good as average to be considered equal, but it is what it is.

Children Need a Mom and a Dad

To be plain about it, our children do not have a mother. For that, many argue our family shouldn’t be.

As our boys well understand, there is, of course, a woman who carried them, and took care of them for the months before their birth. I love her like a sister, the children know her, and know our deep gratitude. We have a special name for her, but a ‘mother,’ to us, is a woman who parents you, who is emotionally tied to you, and, while many will want to say that, of course, our children have a mother, focusing on the biology, we reserve that word for those women who do the work of parenting. The reason should be more than evident to any adopted child, or any child, really, who takes the time to wonder what’s important in their relationship with their parents.

The detractors of our families are not stupid, though. Most people are raised by heterosexual couples and feel strongly for their parents. Our opponents apply a slight trick of vocabulary and emotion and this argument becomes one of the most effective they have. I’d bet even a lot of folks reading this, when they read that first sentence, cringed somewhere inside, and some even became morally incensed, for their reflexive extrapolation of their familial feelings into our home. I’ve got no problem with such reflex, as long as it doesn't end there. Heck, I love my mom too, and am sure my life’s quality would have been greatly diminished without her.

But it’s not just a mom, a woman I love, right? I love my mom. I love my particular parents. When you think on it beyond the superficial, it’s clear what we love about our parents is not their anatomy, or genes, not the ‘M’ or ‘F’ on their birth certificates. We love the people they are, their parenting. We’ve a whole tomb of loving history to back up our strong feelings about ‘mom’ and ‘dad,’ beginning even before our memory, in places where baby books can only testify. We love every patched scrape, every late night they worked for us or paced in an emergency room. We love every encouragement to go beyond ourselves, every hug, smile, and lesson imparted. Though no child cares from what anatomical shape all those experiences come, the words ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ still become infused with wonderful feelings by the association.

Our detractors, as low as it strikes me, try to turn those emotions into a weapon, to imply something that is false about our family. The implication being that only moms mother and only dads father, and so our children are only half parented, missing half all those many experiences. The implication is, for example, that when our boys fall down and scrape a knee that we both, both being their 1950’s stereotype of a father, turn to their teary faces and tell them to stop bawling; be a man.

I think, though, most modern humans would admit they parent for their child’s needs, aiming to make them moral, healthy, and happy individuals. Most fathers mother, at times, and most mothers father, when needed. Being a parent of twins, a necessity to parent in a way unique to each child is even more striking. I know my one son responds best to a gentle touch; the other is more rough and tumble. If treated with the same parenting stereotype of mothering or fathering I’d be doing both a disservice. So when they’re hurt, we comfort them, and when they’re crying in forced drama, we encourage them to get back on the horse. Our parenting, just as it is in any other home, is a balance of the notions behind mothering and fathering, though never perfect (but if you think you do a perfect job as a parent, you're doing it wrong ;-)).

I’m reminded here of my Aunt Beanie, a very old woman who’s lost that part of the mind that would censor her younger self. After about 6 months of our children’s lives, she complained to my mom that, if anything, we “mother them too much.” She felt we kept them too close, and didn’t insist enough they “soothe themselves.” That was how they mothered in her generation. By today’s standards she’d be a very masculine parent. Heck, many of the kids back then, in the golden age of “the family,” were raised by their siblings, particularly here in Utah. I just find it funny that the only criticism of our parenting we’ve received from those who actually know us is that we mother too much :-).

It’s also bit comical that the folks who’ll deride gay men as unfit to be parents for their inability to do the traditional jobs of mothers are the same people who’ll complain about gay men being too feminine. One of the best things about being gay is being let go from those artificial gender rules. You can more easily do what you're innately best at, regardless of what's traditionally in your gender, and this carries over into our homes. Some lesbian moms can teach their kids how to through a curve ball better than any man, and some gay men make better cookies than the most domestic matriarch. We are lucky to have this freedom to more easily do what we're best at for our family, even if at the price of some alienation.

Personally, we have one of the best homemakers I’ve known, my Rob. In all, I have to conclude that it’s not really our actions of parenting, or our children's happiness about which our opponents are concerned; it’s about maintaining their stereotypes and superstitions about what it means to be gay, or a man, or a woman.

On this topic, it’s typically also stated that our children suffer from merely having little influence or example from adult females, and thus they won’t know how to build a family. In a way, with Rob as a stay at home parent and with our great involvement of extended family, it seems to me we’ve a better example of a traditional family than most around here. Furthermore, it's not like our family is a no-estrogen zone. Our kids spend much of their day with their female teachers and friends, almost every day they see their grandparents, and there’s an aunt or niece at our home almost as often . In short I’d say they’ve more access to examples of diversity in human sex, race, and family types than most kids in Utah. We’ve been sure of that

It’s not like they’ll hit puberty and have no idea how to treat or court a woman, or have no close female they could, if they felt it necessary for any reason, turn to for personal advice. Nevertheless, as a guy who’s been chaste and kept a strong union for well over a decade, I don’t feel abnormally unqualified to teach my children about what it means to court, love, cherish, and respect either a man or a woman, towards whichever their orientation may point. I know I learned much from my parents that’s been applied to our home (I also know most of those who use this argument offer their gay children far worse than no example, without a moral flinch).

And hey, as a bonus, the woman who marries one of our boys will get a man who knows work, at home and in the office, can be shared. Unlike some of the men in our family, they’ll know it is actually possible for a man to do his fair part with the cooking and laundry :-).

Finally here, a typical gay marriage opponent will resort to a variant of something like: “So you’re saying that mothers are disposable then?!!” Yes, that’s what I’m saying… Let’s get rid of mothers. My kids don’t have a sister either; so I advocate getting rid of them too, right? Sheesh! Does this mean the Catholics I’ve encountered using this argument by logical extension believe non-catholic parents are disposable as well?

To be clear, no one is saying that mothers or fathers are disposable; quite the contrary. I’ve never met a gay man or woman who’s had anything bad to say about mothers or fathers in general, or the institute of traditional marriage. It is simply politically effective for our opponents to use such hysterics, again playing on the emotions behind ‘mom’ and ‘dad.’ Ironic, though, that it is these same people who are arguing that either Rob or I should have been replaced to make their idea of ideal. It’s as though, to protect “the children,” they’re willing to ignore the reality of their attachments and needs of our children. No, the same strong emotions that make this argument effective for some are present in our home too, and deserve respect as well. Parents are vital, indispensable, and it’s tragic when they’re lost. But every child needs their particular family, the people bound to them emotionally and obligated to them as parents. No one else will do for my children; no one else will do for your children.

Twice As Good Is Equal

My sons, both are wonderful little souls but very very different, each requiring different sorts of parenting altogether. They both act up every now and then, but Alan is very easy to understand when that happens. There’s clear cause and a path, A to B, to a solution. Brian, on the other hand, sometimes he makes me feel like I’m working a rubix cube to figure out what exactly is going on in that little head that makes him do some things.

As my boys began pushing our boundaries, it worried me; acting up and sassing back worried me. Looking back I feel silly, but it did. As a minority family in such a culture, I’m always on the lookout for the fabled signs of how our family makeup affects them. And let’s face it. Almost everyone goes into parenting hopeful, and excited, but also scared to be in control of something more important than you can wrap your head around. Are you up to the job? That job?! Will you inadvertently hurt them? Are you hurting them?

And this is why I love Soccer.

While the kids are out there approximating a competitive sport in the most adorable way, the parents get to talk. At the last game, I was talking to a mother of a classmate; her son comes over for play dates and such more than any other. I opened up about the sort of things I was worried about. She just laughed, and with a “that’s nothing” she listed off what goes on in her home with her boys. A father overheard and started in with his stories, even saying it got to the point where he had spanked his son a couple times, a point we’ve never neared. These are great kids from which I’d never have expected such behavior even in their private home. In short it is, of course, not abnormal.

Finally another mother stepped in and told us she what was becoming clear; I was overly concerned. She retold a conversation with our kids’ preschool teacher on the way to a school field trip. They got to talking about our family (I guess we’re a novelty :-)), and the teacher told her how sweet and well behaved our children were and that, of the parents, we were the most involved in their schooling “as a couple” (this woman was divorced, of course :-)). This teacher, who was a part of the majority culture here and knew our kids well, was giving our family unsolicited praise to other parents. This was, in fact, an account the mother had shared with us before but it was so easy to forget it, that we seem to be doing just fine, better than fine. Sassing back and acting up is more than normal for 4-year-olds, and I knew and know that. In fact, one should probably worry if their kid never tested the boundaries. But I still worried that such was abnormal or could have something to do with us.

Why? Why do I get inordinately worried, and get pleasure from hearing other’s 4-year-olds are more than a little defiant? :-)

Well, this is why I like my volunteer work. I get to interact with all sorts of people, cultures, and minority groups, even in Utah ;-). I’ve often heard my Hispanic and black colleagues express something that rings true for my family. Something like “To be treated as equals we have to be twice as good.” A friend even tells her children this.

In short, I know what people expect from my family. I read the horrible things they predict about my kids, from high drug use to mental problems, in opinion columns and online. I fear for how such expectations will harm my boys; I fear people will treat them like victims or worse. There’s also a part of me that can’t be unaffected by even a baseless warning about my kids. I know our family is both native and strange here; I know we are relatively new and old to our culture. I think I understand how we can live and live well even here… But what if there is something I didn’t factor in to my agonizing and study on becoming parents in such a world? What if the intricate plans I’ve made for us are ruined, by, say, a new law or even a new family in my kid’s school? I’ve got our minority status under control now; everyone is wonderful to us now, but what about then? I’ve come to learn from my friends these are typical fears of a minority parent.

These fears, of course, don’t seem to stop families, and they most often shouldn’t. Even in times when having a child for a minority group meant a clearly horrible future for that child with accurate predictions, people still pushed on. But not without this fear, and fear for your child is like no other. I remember the day I first held them and everything was beautiful, except one speck of a moment. I remember looking down at them sleeping in their twin bassinets, laying there more real than myself, and feeling that fear for them and feeling how motivated I was for them and what I’d do to protect them; it scared me.

I wish such worries weren’t there, but they are and will be for decades, until our families are comfortably folded into the society. I’m also pretty sure all parents feel something similar, regardless of their place in their culture. It goes with the territory.

Regardless of it all though, we’re doing good, by all I can see and by the unsolicited measurement of those who know us. But there’s always that knowledge, that whatever weakness we show as a family it will not be treated the same way as the weaknesses of our neighbors. Any problem in our home will be treated as an inevitable consequence of our family makeup, never simply a random tragedy of human behavior. A temper tantrum for a heterosexual couple is just a temper tantrum; for us, many will tend to look at it in terms of inferior and superior families. I know this; I know my children will be expected to have a deficiency by most, from the average guy on the street to our next president (particularly if it’s Romney ;-)), and that is a threat to them, a worry, one that’s hard to simply let go.

Lastly, I must admit it’s also a worry I’ll fall into that trap too and make them feel they’ll have to be twice as good to be treated as equal. I disagree with my Hispanic friend above; I can’t tell my child that. Right now, they know we’re different from most but they don’t know there’s any political or social fight surrounding our family, and I want to keep it that way as long as I can. I want them to be twice above the average only because they are the most amazing children to ever walk the earth, of course :-).

If You Can’t Stand Cute…

...click away.


We got the boys a puppy last Thursday. No, unfortunately, we’ve not had much canine luck lately, but I’ve a good feeling about this one. And who wouldn’t? He’s cute enough to thwart any coyote or story I don’t want to get into.

Now, I wish I felt comfortable enough to post photos of our boys. Those around here who’ve seen them may freely testify to their record breaking adorableness :-). And, of those families I’ve seen from these parts, I’d certainly return the favor. Either it’s gay men or those with Mormon culture in their background, but it seems we raise some abnormally cute kids :-).

But I’ll show our dog; he’s safely outside that circle of internet worries.

That’s him right there sleeping on my desk [forgive me as I trail off into indecipherable baby talk].

He’s part shit tzu and the other part is in dispute (I just hope it’s not something like poodle for fear of the not-so-cute hyphenation). The boys were so excited and can’t get enough of him… Us, well, I’m reminded a bit of those vague first couple months of our boy’s life. We’ve been up twice every night to let him out and I’m sleepy, but the look in their eyes when he’s clumsily chasing them around the kitchen makes it worth puppy care… If only they were old enough that he could sleep in their room and they could be responcible for him (they're too young still; yesterday I was asked if it's okay to eat toilet papper).

Lastly, in looking at the photos I took yesterday I see one where he bears a remarkable resemblance to one of our fellow bloggers. See:



Anyway, this post is kind of light; may as well bring up what may seem to be the obvious for our family. Mothers Day. Answers to the typical questions:

No, neither of us gets a card today; we both take father’s day :-).

Of course we celebrate it.

Yes, we make a big deal of Mother’s Day. In fact Rob is preparing a huge dinner right now, as a large chunk of family will be coming over. We see this day as a great opportunity to thank and honor the many wonderful women and mothers in our family's life. And we’ve been sure to and are fortunate to have many to thank today.

No, it’s never brought up a tough or even uncomfortable question from our boys. Even I'm a bit surprised at that.

It’s funny how things I’ve noticed a lot of outsiders imagine to be big complicated issues for our home are only big and complicated from the outside. From in here, it seems pretty simple to the lot of us. I bet if most anyone really imagined their family, the particular people and relationships, in a similar situation they would understand why.

Anyway, Happy Mother’s day to all you moms, and, again, isn’t our puppy the cutest?

Parenting for Base Pairs

After going over the tests we had to pass to become parents, a study came to mind, of course :-) (1). It looked at only heterosexual couples. 41 procreated by ivf (in vitro fertilization), 45 by AI (artificial insemination), 55 by adoption, and 43 by normal procreation.

Not only did they find that non-biological parents parented up to the standards of biological parents, they found that the quality of parenting in such families was higher than average. When observed and questioned with standardized tests, the parents were found to be more affectionate and more involved in their children’s lives. They concluded: "Findings suggest that genetic ties are less important for family functioning than a strong desire for parenthood", and "the quality of parenting in families where mother and father had gone through great lengths to become parents was superior to that shown by mothers and fathers who had achieved parenthood in the usual way".

Now, this may strike many as common sense. But, once, when I mentioned this study, I was told, in a hysterical font ;-), “So what are you saying? We should take children from their biological parents and give them to more motivated parents?!” This was a person promoting the “Ideal Family” argument against gay unions (as gone over in too much detail here, here, and here). His argument was that parents parent best for biological children and that’s why he believed a man and woman with their biological children is the ideal family. By showing him evidence that biology wasn’t the key to parenting, he wrongly assumed I meant to do to others what he meant to do to us. Fortunately, I'm not as keen on legally harming other's families as “non-ideal” as he was ;-).

This study absolutely does not show a biological connection to a child somehow makes a parent a worse parent. That would be a highly ridiculous conclusion. What this does show though is that there is not a detectable deficiency in the parenting of non-biological parents. Furthermore, it shows there are positive effects in all the trials a couple must go through if they need help becoming parents.

The reason for these results should be clear. With each additional test, more and more high risk couples are weeded out in the process that otherwise would do so if in fertile unions. Taking out those with a criminal record alone helps a lot, I’m sure, but add on everything else. The teenager who has a one night stand and ends up surprised to be a daddy, for example, has far worse odds of doing it well.

Now, of course, most fertile couples have the capacity to past all these tests, and they are every bit as ideal ;-). Even those who could not pass may be among the most skilled parents, and children who were not planned may be among the most fortunate in family. I’d simply not want government involved in family through something like a procreation license; that would not only be unethical by my measure but it would be government self destruction. Nevertheless, when you need help, and/or there’s a child in another’s custody, already there and looking for a home, you will and should be judged. Those individuals who come to your aid have rights too and they will reasonably have requirements, an effect of which is shown in the above mentioned research.

Simply, the nature of human parenting is not that focused on genetics, and thank goodness we’re not all slaves to Darwin. If you’re a biological parent, think about it. If you discovered tomorrow you’re child was somehow not genetically “yours”, would it lessen your love one bit? If I can extrapolate from our experience, for near all parents--adoptive, traditional, gay, straight, whatever--when you see the person who you know will be your child for the very first time, none of that is on your mind. You, in fact, feel you became their parent even before they took in their first breath, before you ever knew they existed. That was your purpose all along and it was tied to that particular person; genetics or no.

What is on your mind is your future with that individual, your responsibility to them, the pure joy of being a parent, and the choice you’re making to be bound to that particular child. Even if a child is your biological offspring, you’ll not be forced into being dad, papa, mom, or mama by the most important meanings of those words. You only get such titles if you earn them, work for them, and you must choose to either take on that enormous task, or to simply be a stranger who may have donated genetic material and maybe a monthly check of support.

It’s the person who deeply wants a particular child, and has invested their life into having and raising that child with their health and happiness above his own, it’s that person who will be more likely to parent them best; that person is the ideal parent for that child. There are no other parents who can be brought to tears in gratitude by the wonderings of their little minds. No one else remotely knows them in the same detail. No one else comforted, cajoled, taught, fed, dressed, rocked, and ran them to the emergency room (as I did yesterday! No worries; just a trip resulting in a split chin and, eventually, as I assured Alan, a cool scar he can show his friends).

Plainly, while there is biology needed to form and gestate a fetus, there is no substitute for the personal choice to become a child’s parent. And there is no privilege greater in our lives than having that ability to make that choice, regardless of biology, regardless of orientation.

Reference:
1. S. Golombok, R. Cook, A. Bish, C. Murray, Child Development, Families Created by the New Reproductive Technologies: Quality of Parenting and Social and Emotional Development of the Children, 66, 285-298 (1995).

Proud of You

In many stories of coming out, I’ve noticed a continuing thread: the fear of parent’s loss of pride. Coincidentally, L’s post today seems to be on a similar topic. It got me to thinking of an incident last summer with A.

My kids started soccer last year with their school friends. Unfortunately, we never got B on the field; fine, I want him to be a swimmer like his Pop anyway :-). My little A went up right away, though, but soon got chided by the coach for picking up the ball. He ran back, upset, and didn’t want to try again. I encouraged, and (maybe) pushed, along with R and the grandparents. “It’ll be fun,” “Look at all your friends out there”, “just try it again” and so on…

Eventually A got out there but wouldn’t chase the ball. The coach had me come out to encourage some more. Eventually the ball came near him and he kicked it hard. I was very happy he finally got past that barrier. But that emotion must have been on my face, and I fear it was too big of a change. He looked up and went to one of his biggest smiles, but I could see then his eyes had been welling up. He asked, first time ever, “Are you proud of me Papa?”

Those cloaking up muscles in the throat reacted immediately. Proud?! At 4, what does he know about proud, care about proud? Was he about to cry because he thought I was disappointed in him? I felt knocked down by his question and I picked him up, hugged him, and told him yes, I’m very proud of him, that he’s a wonderful little boy. He laughed and went on, happily playing the rest of the season from there.

At that moment I was keenly reminded again of the danger in being a parent. You always know it’s there; you know you have a lot of power, but when you let it spill out inadvertently it really hits you. I mean, was I making him cry over kicking a ball?

Kids seem to come disposed to caring deeply about what their parents think. It makes perfect sense, pragmatically; it’s a large part of how children survive to become the next generation. It’s useful.

But any person or group given such respect can too easily misuse it. You can cause everything from subtle neurosis to outright psychological abuse. Children easily become experts on what their parents think, and sometimes they hang on even vague interpretations of every odd twitch of their parent’s face, to a debilitating degree. I do hope that will not be our children; it’s something to fear.

It seems to be a tricky borderland between trying to raise happy, healthy, and moral children and abuse of the power you have to do so. But I do believe most all parents never mean to cross that line (sure, some miserable humans do). In the area of gay youth, I have seen this power cause many problems for kids, and I once would come down very angry at the parents. But I’m more inclined today to advocate for slack to be cut, and time to be given. As a first time parent of two, I know I’d hope for the same understanding to be given to me. Being a parent can tricky, and scary, along with wonderful beyond words, but I do believe near every parent means the absolute best for their children.

Letting the Kids Wonder West of Enoch

Paul asked after this post, here:

“So how are you exposing the boys to religion? ”

I’m taking it as an opportunity to suss things out :-). I did skip the difficult question.

At this age, it’s very basic. What they see everyday is still a bit miraculous and mysterious for them (for me too :-)) and they haven’t shown interest when the topic of the supernatural comes up. We, for example, have talked about the flood story because of a toy ark they have. We’ve talked about grandma’s idea of heaven and God in simple terms. We’ve explained why we are quiet when family prays, and we’ve talked about a couple now-mythical characters, creatures, and Gods. But that’s the extent for now.

When they gain more interest and sophistication, though, I do plan on exposing them in depth to the various religious notions to which I’ve been exposed (well, edited for age, as some of those religious texts can be a bit PG-13 in parts). One of the largest sections of our family library is actually religious texts and modern books on such faiths. I still enjoy reading them and will actively encourage our boys to as well.

But I want to approach this area the way my parents did. My dad is now an atheist, and my mom a deist, but I’ve never felt they’d be disappointed in me for my inquiry or any of my beliefs. Looking back, they must have been bighting their tongues in some places, but from my LDS days to the new agey stuff I felt nothing but support.

I want to let our boys feel they have that; that they can wonder and don’t need to have our views on the supernatural, absolutely not for our love. I also want them to work for it. This is one area where they should not have us hand it to them; they should struggle, succeed, and fail. I’ll certainly answer any question the way I see it, but with the disclaimer and encouragement for them to question.

Advocating freedom and inquiry as much as is safe here seems to me the best way for them to create a strong sense of self and of an earned place in their metaphysics. I think it also fosters greater responsibility for their views and a better ability to free themselves from the psychological snares the camps of human belief tend to build, even those we may unknowingly set. Most importantly, I think such can give them the best odds of approaching the right answer I’m presuming is out there ;-).

It may sound too hands off, but, when I think of my parents, it’s something for which I’m thankful. If I didn’t feel it was okay to try my hand, I fear I may be in a bad place today, not knowing "what if I tried…" I also look at the families I know who’ve been forceful here, and can see some negative results, seemingly as a consiquence.

Often here, though, the question of ethics comes up (Not that you’re bringing it up, Paul, but I’m in motion here :-)). I’ve known many to imagine, if they didn’t have a faith, they’d do all sorts of horrible things. I certainly find that troubling (for those they interact with…) as I don’t think such is or should be necessary for ethics and ethics should survive a person’s loss of faith. Religion does help some, but I think the most valuable morals are those you keep for their sake. I trust a man who is good because he enjoys being good, not so much a man who’s good for fear of punishment or hope of reward aside from the act itself, and the former are the sort of ethical motivations I hope to teach our children, regardless of their religion.

But here is the complicated part, or more complicated. I’ve a serious responsibility here, to make sure my children are ethical, compassionate, fair and so on with the rest of you all, with your children, for everyone’s sake. But religions are in that business too, and some of them take a while to incorporate humanity’s modern moral discoveries and are consequently not always so fair or compassionate. Simply, we may clash, depending on the faiths our boys pick up.

I can certainly see this could be far more complicated for our family, in particular. Lines may have to be drawn (I suppose they were for me as well; I’m near sure I couldn’t have, say, sacrificed a chicken in my bedroom if I had taken up Santeria :-)). After all, the most predominant religion around us would, in a way, ask them to disrespect their home, think of their family as at least second class and doomed in some eternal way. They could harm some of their peers, and themselves, and everyone in our home by taking up such faith. I mean, teaching a child their parents, by being a couple, being affectionate with each other, and even creating their family and perhaps life (?), are conducting "perversion" and "grievous sins" "equal to or greater than that of fornication or adultery" (in the words of the leadership), is something I’d have to defend against.

In fact, it does keep me up sometimes, worrying such ideas could get between us, could dissolve their connection to their family, or undermine their morals, by putting their parent’s union and their family on the same level (or lower than) actions such as cheating. There will be abnormally strong pressure on them to enter the such faith from friends to neighbors to some extended family, and I fear where that could lead us.

Still, while it would worry me, I certainly couldn’t forbid them from making such a move. I'd go to their baptism (it would kill me that we’d not be allowed in to their wedding)... But don't ask me to pay for BYU tuition :-). In any faith they could still have more inclusive views than their leaders, as R’s parents do. But, if they did begin to attack their own family for it, or anyone else for that matter, there’d be a limit; I'd see that destructive action as where my responsibility to somehow get in the way comes in.

Ug, now I’m stressed… Thank goodness we’ve some year to prepare, and for hearts to soften a bit more. Still, I must say, in truth, I’m pretty confident if any faith does get between us it’ll be temporary; I feel I know them and us at least that well :-).

Lastly, Paul asked if we attend services today. Not regularly, to be sure. We were married by the Unitarians, and have gone there for a regular periods, irregularly. We’ve gone to some Episcopal events and sermons as well within the last coupe years. I like both of the churches and congregations. If it were necessary, we’d probably stick with the Unitarians.

But we’ve not really found much reason for it, for us. I’ve heard the reasons many others give, even atheists, as to why they attend a church, but they don’t much apply to us. I’ve explained my view on imparting ethics, but, in addition to that, we already have a large community of friends for social support. As far as family goes, to attend most services means taking that time away from family for us, as Sunday is spent near all day with extended family (the heathen side, mostly, but the others drop by too :-)). In addition, we have numerous volunteer activities to take care of that need. But, importantly, in the case of, say, the Episcopals, we don’t believe much of what’s being presented as fact, and, though we do appreciate the intent and the message often, being there feels like an endorsement of what we see as very likely false, even if they’d not care and are gracious enough to have us there anyway.

Besides, none of us could sing a hymn on key to save our lives.

Remember to Metaphor for Love

[Advisory: May contain sappy emotional content, and an overabundance of metaphors.]

Last night I went on a date with the most wonderful man; exactly my type, and I am fanatically particular about whom I date ;-).

I was heading home from work, thinking of him and all he does for our home, and realized how long it had been, at least a couple weeks since we’d been out on an adult night. With twins this age we’ve been forgetting to get out together, and can become perfectly content staying home in the evenings. But adult time has a purpose to it. It’s one of those things not urgently craved, but I can’t figure out why once we do it.

One call to the grandparents later and we were off to one of our favorite restaurants, one we’ve been going to for many years.

The place was empty through our evening (probably due to the fact that we’ve begun having dinner at 5:30 in our old age ;-)). The food was exceptional, and it was another perfect evening, wholly romantic. Not that there were grandiose words of love, or tears of joy, or jolts of sexual tension. Just R and me, now far from the excesses of young lovers, and yet worlds more intimate. Just us, talking and eating.

I remembered being at that very same table the first time we left our boys, then 2 month-old babies, for a night out. We talked about them the whole time, skipped dessert, and hurried home to pry them out of their grandparent’s arms. Our love for them was absolute, adamant, and manifest long before their first breath.

But our connection, of course, had a different path; it’s something we’ve built together, over many years. To us, it’s a precious work, our work. It’s hard to believe when thinking of him, but at one point, 15 years ago, we were strangers. A delicate fate brought us together, close enough to find that crude slab of attraction between us. Over a decade later, with a good amount of purposeful work, care, time, and sacrifice, we sculpted that into something else altogether.

I was looking at him last night, his face more familiar than any other, more than my own, and in it so much of our history: my teenage love, my twenty something spouse, our children’s father.

Long-lived love is funny; it can be miraculous and routine at once. It becomes like breathing. It sustains a person. It becomes part of who you are, how you do anything. And, like breathing, such love is often done intuitively, reflexively, comfortably. When you focus on it, you can find great peace, and, when it’s healthy, it’s rhythms go on without conscious effort. You automatically think of them in your choices because that’s how you now function. That’s who you’ve become, not a distinct individual anymore but a piece of something larger. The joy and pain experienced in someone else become your joy and your pain, and, in that way, you are found in two places at once.

But, also like breathing, it can be taken for granted, and, if threatened, go from a wonderfully comfortable part of living to the sole focus of a panicked mind. I feel many of my ideas about relationships have been taught in my family’s example, and I’m very grateful for that. But even after decades of matrimony, I’ve seen some couples go through a time in which it appeared they could lose what they had built. And the reason was, apparently, becoming too complacent in their relationship. I'm happy to say, those I’m thinking of struggled to bring it back, though it hurt them tremendously, and they once again have model marriages.

I worry such love can sometimes get too comfortable. Maybe some forget they’re obligated to their children to actively love, not only them, but their parent too. Maybe it can become so much second nature that you forget you don’t have a direct line into the other person’s mind, and maintenance of the connections you do have is necessary. Whatever it is, I never want to be in that position, and doubt we ever will, but I will always remember the time when that love wasn’t there, and be aware of the panic that would crush us at losing it, in suffocating, at it were.

Last night it was just very nice to give whole attention, and take in a deep, long, intended breath together. I’d recommend it for any occupied parents; it may even be part of your responsibility to get out and have a nice quiet evening, every now and then ;-).

A Little Bit of Knowledge

This bit of radio really got to me (link below). It first aired over a year ago, and our boys were still quite young and yet to enter any sort of school. I was bracing myself through the whole thing, becoming increasingly worried about what’s to come for our home. Yet, it left me quite hopeful.

It’s a piece I think all gay couples would appreciate and find informative, but I bet most everyone would enjoy it (if you get emotional easily, not safe for work, :-)). I just listened to it again and am still a bit choked up. Some day, maybe, I’ll go into our experiences. They’ve yet to not turn out similarly wonderful, but, for now, a family in a similar position to break that ice:

This American life, A Little Bit of Knowledge, Episode 293, Act 2 (18 minutes into it; sorry if you have to wait through it, but it’s worth it and Act 1 ain't bad either).

Listen

The New World

History, Part 8 of 8

Okay… We eventually decided we should look for an option other than a Utah adoption. While we could do it with only one of us as a legal parent, it seemed and seems we both should be bound to the children we’d be raising, and so we found an option where that would be possible…

From here, I must be discrete for a couple reasons. Yep, I’m chickening out, the local and popular “pro-family” politics meaning the opposite and all. If you want to know how it’s done exactly, there’s a lot of info on the different options on the web.

What can I say, though? I’ll say as much as I can, as I’d hope to do my bit to explain to childless gays what it’s like (not only for their interest in becoming parents, but for their understanding of the gay fathers they might advise to “just leave your wife”). Besides, it is what I like to go on and on about most :-).

From the time we figured out what we were doing, to the birth of our boys, it was just over 2 years. These were two very amazing and trying years. We had setbacks that mark this period near the top in stress and sadness; we leaned each other and they passed. But we also had joys that easily make all stress and sadness seem trivial.

It’s hard to explain, but, before our boys had life by anyone’s definition, we fell in love with them, whoever they would be (or how many :-)). As the process progressed, our lives became more and more about inevitable them. We turned a guest room into a nursery, way too soon. We painted their bookshelves five shades of blue until we thought it was right, and bought the rocking chair that would become our best semi-inanimate friend.

And we waited, and waited, our whole world suspended in anticipation.

Then, finally, one summer’s night came and went, and the next sun I saw might as well have been an entirely new sun, one that had an aspect I’d never known. The whole world, in fact, may as well have been replaced; everything, everyone was changed. We were the parents of two beautiful baby boys, twins.

My world was suddenly their world; what I once owned, I now rented. I had a career I respected, but it became just another thing I do for them, until I can go home to see them. My life was suddenly a cog in their life.

My parents? Now their grandparents. My marriage, our marriage, was suddenly their family, and all those promises we made became promises made to them as well. We named them and they named us. I became “Papa”, and to remember what it was to not be a father became akin to remembering another’s life.

Did I make the point? :-) Everything changed. Years had been building to that moment, meant for that moment, and then it was a quantum leap. I’ve never felt so amazed, surrendered and determined at once, than when I first saw them.

I thought I knew all about love; I thought I knew what my parents felt for me. But I didn’t know a parent’s love, and it knocked us silly.

Much has happened since then. There are about 4 months I don’t quite remember :-). If one of our boys wasn’t up at night, it seemed the other was. We’d walk what seemed to be miles each night through our home. That was the only time in my life I’ve accidentally fallen asleep (sitting in a chair, chatting with guests, no less).

Still, every infant I see even today can’t help but make me think of those sleepless months fondly. I remember watching them kick and babble, and being brought to tears with their beauty, with what they meant, with how powerless and strong they made me at once. I remember breathing in time with them, as I’d lay blissfully trapped, as they’d nap on my chest. It was a wonderful, if not dream-like period.

The years since have flown by too fast. Each phase of their childhood seems to pass before I can grasp it fully. But the joys are replaced with joys. Their first smile, their first words (I’m Pop or Papa, but it was “Dad” for both of them, Grrr). They learned to walk, talk, count, share, and so on. We learned right along with them.

Today, they are becoming my little kids. They aren’t babies anymore, and they’re leaving toddlerhood behind. I can now see hints of the men they’ll be on their innocent little faces; it’s wonderful and scary to think of how quickly they’re growing. They’re already planning their careers, “lumber jack” and “mailman or scientist” :-). It seems to me they couldn’t have more different personalities, but that too is a treat.

We’re teaching them how to read now, do simple math, and I’m answering innumerable “why” questions, some of which go far beyond my scientific knowledge and/or my philosophical expertise (I do my best, though :-)). They love swimming, and playing in our yard; they love their dog, their friends and family, and, now, their school. They very much love their grandparent, and they are very happy grandparents at that (I think they’d written us off as a source for grandkids :-)). I know I’ve gotten off on my favorite tangent here and a bit too emotional, but, simply, our boys are our two greatest joys, motivators, and responsibilities.

One last thing here. My R, Dad, stays home with them, and I couldn’t be more grateful for what he does for us all. In just this week I’ve come home to homemade peach pie, chili sauce, raspberry jam, “twinkies”, and I’m sure I’m forgetting something. He keeps our home cozy, clean, and welcoming, and takes our boys on all sorts of excursions (And my doctor wants to know how I know he’s faithful?! He hasn’t the time :-), let alone character). I take care of them in the mornings, letting him sleep in, and I’m the main play toy at night, but he’s there with them near all the time. I am eternally grateful (and jealous :-)).