I know by now it’s been by everybody and his brother, but I’m posting it here for all the parents in the world who have ever thought what the title of this book says.
Go ahead, play it again. You know you were laughing too hard to hear the whole thing.
I’ve been so busy with work and family that I’ve fallen behind on my email. I didn’t know I was in the running, but apparently this blog has been voted one of Circle of Moms Top 25 LGBT Parent Blogs.
What are the best blogs written by or for LGBT parents? Is there a writer out there in the blogosphere who truly tells it like it is for LGBT families and makes you feel like someone out there gets it? Is there someone who is providing much appreciated connection and support through their blog? We want to hear about them!
Voting closed on May 13th. I didn’t check my email soon enough put up a post asking for votes, so I’m even more surprised. Back in March, I was included in their top 25 Daddy Blogs. That was another pleasant surprise.
Well, it’s always nice to be included. Thanks, Circle of Moms!
“Honey, we’re on page two of the Washington Post.”
That’s what my husband said to me Saturday morning, when he and Dylan returned from their swimming class, as he left on the counter a page that had been ripped from the day’s newspaper, before turning around and taking Dylan outside to play with our neighbor’s two boys.
“Huh,” I said. It took a minute for it to register. Why on earth would we be in the Post? Then I picked up the paper and read the headline: “Slim majority back gay marriage, Post-ABC poll says.”
I watched the Oscars last night, for what has to be at least the 30th time, because I’ve watched them every year since I was old enough to see movies and care about them. That would have been 1981. If I go back far enough, I can probably just remember the 12 year old, or nearly-12-year-old boy sitting in a darkened family room in Augusta, GA, watching as much as I could before it was time for me to go to bed.
Honestly, I don’t remember much about that 1981 Oscars broadcast. I don’t remember the speeches. I didn’t remember who Oscars won in 1981, until I looked it up. But I remember that 12-year-old boy, and more than that — much more, really — I remember his dreams.
I can’t remember why I suggested to Parker that he and I read the the Harry Potter books together. I’m sure it was in part because I wanted to continue to encourage in him a love of reading. That’s why Parker and I read together every night that it’s my turn with him at bedtime.
Being an avid reader myself, it’s something I want for both my sons — not just to be well-read, but to develop a love of reading for reading’s sake. In my life, I’ve found it makes learning a lot easier, but makes the world a bigger and more fascinating place, by extending learning throughout life.
Hell, the years I’ve spent since college could be considered a very long independent study program, based on what I’ve read. (Add what I’ve written about what I’ve read, and I’m convinced I could almost qualify for some kind of advanced degree.)
But that’s not the reason I recommended the Harry Potter books.
When it comes to the holiday season, I’m neither a Scrooge nor a fanatic. I enjoy the season for a multitude of reasons. And no, I don’t agree with most people about the “reason for the season,” and that’s O.K. History doesn’t agree with them either, but that’s O.K. too. Human beings have have celebrations and ceremonies around this time of year practically since the beginnings of civilization. It’s meanings are old enough and broad enough for all of us to lay some claim to it.
Besides, “Peace on Earth” and “Goodwill toward men” sound like good ideas to me, after having my head in national these last couple of years. It’s enough to make anyone say “Bah! Humbug!” But recently I heard a familiar holiday song on the radio, and it kinda brought me back to myself.
It occurred to me last night that parenting turns the mundane into milestones, causing strange emotional reactions. I had one of those while we were folding the laundry during “Desperate Housewives” (as we do every other Sunday night.) I had folded a tiny pair of Dylan’s underwear, and was putting them on his underwear pile when the hubby noted, “Awwww. Dylan has an underwear pile now.”
We’ve been in the throes of “potty training”/”potty learning” for the past week now, and Dylan has transitioned from diapers to underwear most of the time. Needless to say, it’s been a week of outfit changes, and a bit more laundry on Dylan’s part, but he’s getting it. For the last few days, he’s kept his diaper dry when he had one one, and kept himself dry when he had his underwear. Last night, the big deal was that he did No. 2 in the potty, something he’d only done at school to date, which earned him a Thomas the Train sticker.
I found myself getting misty-eyed that Dylan has an underwear pile. It’s just another sign that he’s growing up, and isn’t really a baby any more, even though I still think of him as one sometimes. (And in many ways he’ll always be our baby, to me.)
Of course we realized that it means the day we change our last diaper is on the horizon, and the diaper genie will be a thing of the past. But I still had a slight lump in my throat over the new underwear pile in our lives. It signifies the beginning of something, yes. But it signifies the end of something too. Something precious I’m sure I’ll miss just a little bit.
But I won’t miss diapers. Period.
How on earth anyone with the very public history of Carl Paladino becomes a serious candidate for governor of any state — let alone New York — is a mystery to me beyond all understanding. But, these are strange political times, when former right-wing fringe becomes the mainstream of the Republican party.
For the most part, I tend to ignore what Paladino has to say about anything, except for when he starts saying what he’d do if elected; like reviving the workhouses of the Victorian Era. But when he goes off and says something so blatantly ignorant about gay people, I can’t help but respond.
The Republican candidate for governor, Carl P. Paladino, told a gathering in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, on Sunday that children should not be “brainwashed” into thinking that homosexuality was acceptable, and criticized his opponent, Attorney General Andrew M. Cuomo, for marching in a gay pride parade earlier this year.
Addressing Orthodox Jewish leaders, Mr. Paladino described his opposition to same-sex marriage.
“I just think my children and your children would be much better off and much more successful getting married and raising a family, and I don’t want them brainwashed into thinking that homosexuality is an equally valid and successful option — it isn’t,” he said, reading from a prepared address, according to a video of the event.
Getting married? Raising a family?
Need I say it?
That’s. So. Gay.
I’ve written once or twice about my interest in crime stories and earlier research into serial killers for a writing project. I’ve seen the first season of Dexter, but have yet to catch up with the rest on Netflix. And, I’ll admit that I was intrigued and found Dexter more than a little sexy. (Michael C. Hall’s good looks and portrayal of the character go a long way towards towards turning a murderous psychopath into a sympathetic character. It doesn’t hurt that Dexter’s deadly impulses are directed at other killers.)
That said, I actually agree with this guy. A Dexter "action figure" is just a bit much for my tastes.
We’re on a bit of a family vacation this week. So posting may be sparse, though I do have one in the works.
I won’t be blogging much today. Actually, probably not at all. I’m busy with work this afternoon, and I’ll be busy with the boys this evening.
Speaking of the boys, I realize I have posted any pictures for a while.
Every time I write one of these posts, I think — or, rather, I hope — it will be the last one. Maybe that’s because I harbor two apparently unrealistic hopes: (1) that no more children will be hurt, abused, or killed by the people who are supposed to care for them, and (2) that people will stop putting our parenting in the same category as people who do hurt, abuse, and kill their own children.
Like I said, these are unrealistic hopes. Maybe someday the reality of child abuse will be like a nightmare that fades from memory and into the distant past. But not today. And maybe someday, people will stop calling all that we do as parents — from making dinner to helping with homework, etc. — as abuse, because it’s part of being a parent, and because We’re doing it. Maybe someday. But not today
Certainly not with Pride season upon us, when the AFA finds out there’s a kid kicking off a pride parade.
So much for telling kids to "always tell the truth." It turns out, toddlers who tell lies do better as adults. Whether this is surprising news about child development, or a sad statement about the kind of society we live in depends on how you define "better."
On one hand, the study of 1,200 children, conducted by the Institute of Child Study at Toronto University, found that it means the kiddies have reached an developmental milestone — because lying, and lying well, is a sign of high cognitive development.
Living and working in Washington, it’s not unusual to run in to famous people. No, not “movie star famous.” At least not most of the time. But people who hold important positions or people whose work and actions have made history, and made a difference in the lives of countless others.
Dr. Dorothy Height was one of those people who fit all of the above criteria.
Legendary civil rights leader Dorothy Height died Tuesday morning, at age 98. She dedicated her life to empowering women and blacks, and led the National Council of Negro Women for four decades.
Height was born in Richmond, Va., and grew up near Pittsburgh. As a teenager, she won a scholarship to Barnard College in New York, only to find that the school had already admitted its quota of two blacks.
In 1963, as Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his “I Have A Dream” speech at the March on Washington, only one woman stood on the platform behind him: Dorothy Height. A lifelong champion of civil rights, Height organized a meeting the next day in which women in the movement could address racism and sexism.
Height had the ear of U.S. presidents from Eisenhower to Obama. President Obama paid homage to Height in a statement Tuesday, calling her a hero and “the godmother of the civil rights movement.”
I never formally met Dr. Height, but in my one experience with her she impressed me with the depth of her understanding, and I came away knowing a bit more about how she could work so tirelessly for so long.
This is perhaps one of the most ridiculous things I’ve heard in ages. A Maryland company authorized by the state to place children with foster families has refused a foster license to a Muslim woman, because she doesn’t allow pork products in her home.
Almost two decades ago, Tashima Crudup left her grandmother’s home and entered the city’s foster care system, where she learned firsthand what makes a good mother.
As she shuffled from family to family beginning at age 8, Crudup encountered some attentive and loving foster parents, while others were unsupportive and constraining.
“I always wanted to be a foster parent,” said the 26-year-old mother of five.
In July, Crudup — a practicing Muslim — contacted Contemporary Family Services, a private company authorized by the state to place foster children with families. She cleared an initial screening process and completed 50 hours of training classes for prospective parents. But after a home visit, her application was denied.
The main reason: She doesn’t allow pork in her house.
Are you kidding me?
(more…)
I wasn’t sure, at first, about what I heard. But I pretty sure I witnessed a bit of flirtation between Parker and a little girl at the playground yesterday.
We took the boys to the playground after Dylan’s nap. (Yay! He still naps!) We thought it might rain later and wanted then to get in some outdoor play time. At one point, the hubby was pushing Dylan in the toddler swing, and Parker decided he wanted to swing. A little girl was swinging next to the one Parker chose.
When Parker asked me to give him a push, I started telling how to pump his legs so he could swing without a push. That’s when the little girl said, “You don’t know how to swing?”
Originally published in MetroWeekly.
It’s funny, and often fascinating, how so much can change in such a short time — and yet change so little. When our family arrived back home on Tuesday evening, we were the same family we were when we left home that afternoon.
Yet, as a family we experienced an important change when my husband and I — after being married in all but the legal sense for 10 years — were legally married to each other Tuesday afternoon.
If you haven’t seen this yet, well, you should.
It never ceases to amaze me how children just “get it,” unless they’re taught otherwise. On the day we got married, Parker had a half-day at school. Before he left, he said, he told his classmates that his parents were getting married. His classmates have met both the hubby and me, so they know what that means, and it doesn’t seem to be a big deal to them.
From the mouths of babes…
Update: The transcript is up.
The hubby and I are participating in a Washington Post online chat about marriage in D.C., a1 t 1 p.m. today. Come join in!
open source video, online video platform, video streaming, video solutions
With the issuing of the first marriage licenses to same-sex couples Tuesday, the District follows five states — from Iowa to Massachusetts — in allowing gay couples to marry. Same-sex couples were first able to apply for licenses in the District last Wednesday but, like all couples, had to follow the city’s three-day waiting period before getting hitched.
Rick Imirowicz and Terrance Heath, who were married Tuesday, will be online Wednesday, March 10, at 1 p.m. ET to discuss the new law in the District and what it means to them and others in the GLBT community and the nation.
We did it.
The broom has been jumped. We are married.
OK. I plead guilty to this When I got my iPhone 4, I gave Parker my old iPhone 3G (with parental controls in place, phone service deactivated, everything restored to factory settings, history wiped clean, and internet access and the App Store on lockdown) to play games on, etc. But does that make me a “Scrooge”? Puh-leeze. An eight-year-old needs the latest iPhone?
It’s happening again. I’m getting that “I’ve got a book in me, if I can make time to write it,” feeling. Of course, that “if” is the big, and the deciding, factor.
I was never one of those who claim “there’s no such thing as bisexuality.” I’ve known too many bisexuals to buy that the “don’t exist.” So, I’m not surprised that a study now indicates there is too such a thing as bisexuality. In men, that is.
Apparently, it’s hard to build a successful television show around someone who’s (a) unlikeable and (b) had no discernible talent beyond reproducing.
It’s not that I don’t trust the guy, and maybe the whole Weinergate thing has me a little gun shy, but am I the only who thinks Obama tweeting for himself may not be the best idea?
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