On several different occasions, Paisley and I have talked about what it means to be gay. We took her to the Pride parade last year and she’s overheard us having conversations about different things. I told her that it means a man loves a man, or a woman loves a woman in the same way that Mommy and Daddy love each other. She has accepted the idea without judgement or confusion. She’s only five but without the social or cultural context she just sort of embraced it and moved on. I realize that as she gets older there will be more conversations, but I also think (hope) that by the time she is a teenager, it won’t be a big del. Already in my own lifetime, I have seen incredible steps taken towards equality and I can only assume that will continue.
The other day I was reading the newspaper and Paisley peered over my shoulder, “What is that picture of Mom?” It was a picture of a protest. Angry people were holding up posters printed with homophobic slurs. They were protesting gay marriage. I tried to explain to Paisley that some people don’t want gays to get married. She didn’t understand, “Why not?” I didn’t really have a good answer. So I tried to explain that for a long time, gay people had to hide away. That they couldn’t tell people who they really were or love who they loved. She found the entire idea hard to grasp and very sad, “But you should just be who you are, right Mom?”
I found it very interesting that homosexuality was a concept both easily explained and understood,but that we both struggled with understanding the hatred that so often accompanies it.
I guess it’s not really that complicated at all.
I’ve been spending a lot of time lately trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. It’s a tough choice. It’s even tougher when you’re 35 years old and a mother of two. Those realities don’t necessarily limit your option, but they sure do define them. I feel tired these days. Not of life (never of life) but of trying to become what and who I want.
Paisley turned five in January. Five seemed like a big one to me. She starts kindergarten next fall and is turning into a big kid right before my eyes. Parenting is bittersweet – you want them to grow up. I mean, that is the objective. You want them to be healthy and eventually, a fully-functioning adult. And yet, there are days where you just want them to stop. This age, and every age before it, has been a study in wonder and innocence. Paisley is creative without knowing it. She is sweet and gentle without feeling vulnerable. She is joyous without the anchoring regard for what others around her might think. She will dance naked in the living room and feel nothing but sheer jubilation. She goes to sleep each night with peace and a sense of security. She looks at the world with awe and a sense of wonder and reverence. She loves with abandon and tells you “Don’t do that!” when she doesn’t like something. She has a lot to teach me.
It has been a long fall. We had a miscarriage (that’s 7 pregnancies in total now) in October that has left my life a little topsy-turvy. I had a d&c that, as it turns out, wasn’t succesful so my hormones have been crazy. The doctor put me on Misoprostol and that lovely little process has only just finished. Hoping we can get a clear ultrasound next week and just put that behind us. As for the other after-effects of this pregnancy, who knows. Shortly after the miscarriage, my hubby informed me that he is now 100% sure he does not want another baby. I came out even more sure than I had been going in to this that I desperately do want another baby. Love can build a bridge but it can’t span this divide I’m afraid. The respectful but exhausting debate rages on. I get where he is coming from. He gets where I am coming from but neither one of us seems able to cross the line. Any experience with this one?
I have always been a big believer in the right to choose. And I’m not talking about abortion. (As a sidenote, as an extension of my belief in choice, I also happen to be pro-choice pro-choice. Glad we cleared that up.) I see so many people claiming to have made a choice in one way or another, when really they’ve hardly considered the other options at all. Being unaware or ill-informed about one side of an issue does not lead to choice – it leads to dogma. Continue Reading
Deciding to have a child was an easy choice for me to make. I always knew that I eventually wanted to have kids and I was excited to become a Mom. Number two was also an easy choice because I had never really entertained the idea of having an only child. Now we are faced with the decision to have more or stick with two and it’s proving to be a tough decision for me (and my hubby). Continue Reading
How time flies. My brother-in-law, who I first mentioned here (and then again, here and here) is back from serving his two-year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Better known as the Mormons. It was great to see him again and he has changed so much. His mission was a Spanish speaking one so he has returned completely fluent in Spanish. Pretty cool. While I obviously don’t support missions, I do think the church does an amazing job with these young people. My hubby served in France and remains fluent in French to this day. The church, very deliberately, takes these young men (there are some women missionaries but they are overwhelmingly young men who begin their mission at the age of 19) at a pivotal point in their lives and
immerses indoctrinates them even further into the teachings of the church. They are shielded from the world (no tv, no music, no movies, no shopping, no fun) and do nothing but read scriptures or teach scriptures for every waking hour.
Wowzers – I was going through my external hard drive tonight (it’s full of old documents, pictures etc…a real time suck!) and came across this document. I wrote it in early 2001 when Brian and I had recently started dating. Religion was clearly weighing heavily on my mind: