Respect

Yesterday was a historic day as the Supreme Court of the United States declared the Defense of Marriage Act unconstitutional and ruled to allow same-sex couples to resume marrying in the State of California. I was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee when the news came out and I cried - tears of joy and relief - and then I told my kids and explained the decisions to the best of my ability.

We spent the day at the pool. The kids did flips off the diving board and rode the tube slides and I listened to a book while staring at the sky and watching as the clouds rearranged themselves in a kaleidoscope around the sun.

Later that evening, as I sat on the sidelines of Miguel's soccer game, several parents came up to me and said some version of, "How 'bout that Supreme Court today?" and I could not hide my smile, not just because of what the rulings mean for our family but because I felt seen and validated in a way that is all too rare. This was important and these parents with whom we spend so much time knew that even though we have never once talked about our family or marriage or anything political at all.

Had Luisa been with us rather than in South Africa for work, the day would have been perfect. As it was - it was damn close.

Or so I thought.

This morning, as I had my coffee, I perused Miguel's Instagram account as I do every day (sometimes multiple times per day) and saw that he'd posted a screencap of a comment on a photo that said, "You'll probably grow up to be a fag because you don't have a real family and are being raised by gays playing house and pretending they have a real relationship."

I am so fierce in my belief that people are good that such hateful statements always catch me by surprise. They shouldn't yet they do every single time.

When Miguel woke up, I asked him to sit with me on the couch and I said, "Tell me about the screencap you posted on Instagram."

It started with the picture accompanying this post. He "liked" it and then looked at the comments below it and the first one he saw used the word "fags" repeatedly. Many more hateful comments followed and my tender-hearted son with his strong sense of justice felt that he needed to respond and he left a comment saying, "I have two moms and I'm proud of my family." People responded to him and said hateful things about his family and he responded in kind, calling them, among other things, "little brained bullies". Then, one of the commenters made the comment about him and his family that he had captured and posted.

I was devastated.

I was sad that a beautiful day and picture had been tainted by hate, that my son had seen it and responded disrespectfully.

I reminded him of previous discussions we've had about engaging with hateful people and he said he knew he shouldn't do it but couldn't "stand by and do nothing". I explained once again that you can't argue with people filled with that kind of hate, that you will never change their minds.

And then came the hardest part - I told him I was disappointed in him for posting comments that were disrespectful and then doled out consequences for his behavior.

It broke me because his heart was in the right place and those commenters were "little brained bullies" and he is just a kid.

But, I want more for him.

I want him to be able to stand up for his beliefs without insulting others, to know when to walk away from a fight, to treat people the way we should all be treated - with respect.

He put his arms around me and said, "I really love you, mom" and I asked him one last question, "Do you think you are better than them?" He quirked an eyebrow and I could tell he was wondering if this was a trick question. He hesitated and said, "Yes." I said, "I do too. You are smart and open-minded and kind and compassionate. You are better...and you have to act like it." I told him that I understand how hard it is and that I love him and then we just sat together without the need for any more words.

I know this is a lesson we'll have to revisit and I'll preach respect again and again because I also know that he'll get it and, when he does, he'll be unstoppable.

*Posted with permission from Miguel

Original Photo Credit

Screencap Credit

Revisiting What Is Yet To Come

Today is Blogging for LGBT Famlies Day and I should have something fabulous to share, right? I mean...the whole LGBT parenting thing is what has made me all my millions. And yet, I have nothing new today.

My thoughts today:

1. It was so great seeing my old friends this weekend! 2. Last week of school. Someone hold me. 3. I'm going to make a Google doc! 4. I ate too much hummus.

So, rather than let the day pass with nothing, I am posting and excerpt of one of my favorite posts I've written for Lesbian Family:

It’s easy when they are small to keep them safe. You grab tiny hands before they get shocked. It’s easy to answer their questions because their questions are simple, requests that you can grant or things with concrete explanations.

“Yes, you can have a piece of candy.”

“A frog starts out as a tadpole.”

As they get older, you can try to keep them safe but you can’t keep them from getting hurt and the dangers they face are less often about bumps and bruises and more often about the doubts and fears and insecurities that find their way into fragile souls. The questions become more complex and I find that I don’t always have answers or the answers I do have are not at all comforting.

“When I get to high school and meet a girl I like, do you think that having two moms could hurt my chances with her?”

We are far beyond candy and tadpoles.

Please click on over there to read the post in it's entirety, What Is Yet To Come.

And make sure to head over to Mombian to add your own post to the list!

Life Is Like My Bathroom

Life is weird, right? Like sometimes I walk into the bathroom in the morning and find strange things like a bow tie and a guitar capo in the middle of the floor or a football helmet with a towel inside it or maybe a Lego board set at an angle that appears to be intentional or maybe a scuba diver inside the mouth of a shark. A toy shark, of course, because it wouldn't be "weird" to find a real shark in the bathroom - it would be "scary".

The scuba diver was a toy too because none of us own scuba gear and it would be a different kind of "scary" to find a strange scuba diver hanging out in our bathroom. It would be "weird" if one of us did own scuba gear and put it all on and waited in the bathroom. That would be weird funny...and now I wish that I owned scuba gear for this purpose alone.

Whispered Aside ~ I could not sleep last night which might explain the digression...but...you know I love a digression so maybe I'm just feeling self-indulgent today. ~ End Whispered Aside

I try to make sense of these weird things that I find but I usually fail. I know who is responsible and I could ask what it's all about but there is something about the absurdity of it all that I appreciate.

Truly understanding it might ruin the surprise.

So, my bathroom is a lot like life: unpredictable, weird, absurd, funny, a bit cold and a little confusing.

Last week was all of those things for me.

I was thrilled when my piece for the Listen To Your Mother Twin Cities Show was published by the Huffington Post and the good and bad comments reminded me of the importance of storytelling.

For those who don't know what followed, another site took my story, distorted my message and then took pictures of my kids from my Facebook account and posted them. (The article and pictures have since been removed.)

As I start this new week, I am filled with gratitude.

I am grateful for all who read my piece and took the time to comment respectfully.

I am grateful for all those who contacted me personally to tell me that my words meant something to them.

I am grateful for Luisa who helped me deal with the misrepresentation and pictures even though she was in Trinidad.

I am grateful for every single person who offered to kick some ass on my behalf. Your protectiveness was adorable and appreciated.

I am grateful that I am able to write and that, for whatever reason, people read what I write.

I can't make sense of everything and I don't have to. Last week reminded me that, sometimes, you just need to embrace the bow ties and football helmets and sharks in the bathroom and be grateful for the unexpected.

I am learning to do just that.