Monthly Archives: November 2008

Post Post Partum Post, Hope and the Queer Spawn Club

My hair is falling out.

There’s a tribble in the shower every time I bathe.  Before I bathe, even.  Every time I run my fingers through my hair, a big clump comes out.  It is gross.  And it freaked me out until my yoga teacher explained that, no, I wasn’t going bald.  Apparently, while you’re pregnant, you don’t lose any hair at all.  Then four months later, it all falls out.  I mean, all the hair that would have fallen out over the nine months that no hair fell out.  What is the evolutionary function of this?  What?  And why didn’t anyone tell me?  Consider yourself warned.

So now that I have my ideal lesbian family —  my ideal family, really — I want my kids to know other kids who have the same family structure.  Namely, two parents of the same gender.  I have gone out of my way to meet such folks, including my pregnant lesbians group, the local gay list serve and “Brooklyn Rainbows.” (Yes, it is really called that.)  We were happy to get together with the pregnant lesbians, who are no longer pregnant, this weekend.  It was crazy.  You know, lots and lots of babies and toddlers and moms.  There were many moms.  One of the moms in the group who is fond of “go-arounds” had us go around and say our names and our kids’ names and anything we wanted to talk about.  It was the world’s loudest go-around.  A whole different planet from the quiet, thoughtful discussions were having about choosing last names and round ligament pains of just a few short months ago. Trucker, I think, was the loudest.  My ears are still ringing.  I guess he had a lot to share.

At the gathering, I met a mom who reads my blog.  She said that my getting pregnant inspired her to keep trying.  Low and behold, she has a baby two months younger than Trucker, so woo and hoo!  I love that my blog helps inspire people to keep trying to make babies!  But here’s the best part:  there was a woman there who got pregnant at home on a natural cycle AFTER having failed IVF cycles.  I love that.  I just had to tell you.  Because even when we think there’s no hope.  There’s hope.   Hope’s sitting on your bedroom floor in a canister of liquid nitrogen.  Or in your partner’s bosom, freshly delivered from some kind and gentle donor.  Or hope walks into the room with a baby in a bjorn who came into being after the last ditch effort. After the harvesting and fertilizing and needles and BFNs and all that crap.

Oh, and one more thing.  I had to share with you this little conversation between a child at the gathering and my Cakie.  I’ll call the child Min.

Min: Where’s your mom?

Cake: [Pointing at me]  Right there.

Min: That’s not your mom.

Cake: Yeah, she’s right there.

Min: No.  Where’s your other mom?

And that right there is why I came.



Filed under family, LGBT, my hon, my second son, my son, Post partum, TTC

Family with a Capital F

There’s this list of legal stuff gay moms have to do when they have a baby.  Ummm.  Yeah.  That.  Well, let’s just say we haven’t even really gotten started on the list yet.  Unless you consider “Give birth,” to be an item on the list.

We should:

  • Get second-parent adoption started, say, while you’re pregnant
  • Update wills
  • Make sure entire family is covered by somebody’s health insurance
  • Get life insurance
  • Sign new baby up for college savings plan

I’m sure there’s more.  And, yes, I guess I did one thing on the list.  So, I was looking through the brochure for the New York State 529 College Savings Plan, and I came across a part about how you can roll-over part or all of the savings from one person to a “Member of the Family.”  The quotes are there because those words are actually capitalized.  Then I found myself leafing through the book, looking for a definition of a Member of the Family.  Did they actually have a definition of “Family?”  What could it be?  I was horrified that perhaps by New York State definition, my family was not actually a Family with a capital F.  I’ll copy the list that I eventually found for you here:

Member of the Family

A “Member of the Family” of the Beneficiary is currently defined for purposes of section 529 as any person related to the Beneficiary as follows:

  • Father, Mother, or an ancestor of either;
  • Son, daughter, or a descendant of either;
  • Stepfather or Stepmother;
  • Stepson or stepdaughter;
  • Brother, sister, stepbrother, stepsister, half-brother, or half-sister;
  • Brother or sister of the father or mother
  • Brother-in-law, sister-in-law, son-in-law, daughter-in-law, father-in-law, or mother-in-law;
  • Son or daughter of a brother or sister;
  • Spouse of the Beneficiary or any of the individuals mentioned above; or
  • First cousin

Ugh.  That’s a whole lot of “steps” and “in-laws” to type.  On this list there is so much to do with legal marriage (“step” or “in-law”) and blood relationships (“half”).  Right now, in the eyes of the law, I am Trucker’s only legal parent.  So could I roll over any of Cakie’s vast fortune into Trucker’s account?  (He’s got about enough in there right now to buy him one credit at  community college.)  There was one more line at the bottom that made all the difference to me: A legally adopted child of an individual is to be treated as the child of such individual by blood. So, yes, since Cakie was legally adopted by me, that makes Cake and Trucker legal brothers in the eyes of the 529 College Savings Plan.

I ask you this, who else needs to go looking through any brochure to see if their family deserves a capital F?

And if I were to live in a state in which second-parent adoption is not legal for gay folks, well — here I’m getting flustered, because all I want to do is scream THAT’S NOT FUCKING FAIR!

In New York State, my honey and I are registered Domestic Partners.  This means we get five — yes a whopping five — rights as partners, as opposed to the over 700 rights legally-married folks like Britney Spears and that guy she married in Las Vegas get.  Four of them have nothing to do with us.  We can have those sex visits if one of us gets incarcerated.  We can stay on the lease if we live in the projects and one of us passes away, etc.  The reason we bothered to do it at all was so we could be on each other’s insurance.  I am grateful that both of our jobs recognize domestic partnerships for health insurance.  BUT, we have to pay income tax on the money we use to buy that insurance.  I call it the gay tax.  There is so much more that isn’t fair.  And we live in a state that is fairly kind to its gay citizens, at least in comparison to some other states.

My honey and I agreed a long time ago that we would get married when it becomes legal in New York.  Even though our neighbors to the east, MA and CT are more on the gay marriage up and up, we are waiting.  Which is why I had to go  to the march.

img_1515 I hope you were able to attend as well.  If not this one, maybe I’ll see you at the next one?


Filed under family, gay marriage, LGBT

one hand clapping

hi kids!

i haven’t been posting as much.  typing with one hand is tricky.  in the other hand i have the fruits of my ttc labor, asleep with a pacifier in his mouth.

i guess i have also exactly too much and too little to say.

i want to tell you about “when babies attack: the great face-eating trucker.”  I guess that’s self-explanatory.  my youngest son kisses like an inexperienced high school boy — while grabbing your hair.  thank god he doesn’t have teeth yet.  is that a whole post?  nah.

i want to drool over our upcoming president and stomp over prop 8.  neither is very original.  i think we’re all on the same page here.

am i starting to freak out about going back to work? (not for another month and a half, but still…)  yes.  yes I am.

i am just getting in a groove with being home.  i’ve just started to take those long walks through the park up to my old neighborhood that i’d envisioned myself taking all along.  i’ve just begun to hang out in cafes with other moms, eating over-priced criossants and debating about sleep training.  there isn’t even one little ounce of me that wishes i were teaching.  does that make me a bad teacher? nah.  it makes me a good mom.

so that’s it, folks: the sound of one hand clapping.

thanks for stopping by, anyway.

let me know if you have any post requests.  i’d love to cater to your reading needs.  what do you want to know about big city gay mom life with a newborn and a three-year-old?


Filed under blogitty blog blog, gay marriage, my second son, NYC What is it about you?, Trucker

Dear Trucker (4 months)

My dearest Trucker,

You have finished your fourth trimester, as they say.  Now your eyes have opened wide.  Just now, you were almost asleep when your eyes caught sight of the racoon faces on your socks.  You could not tear yourself away.  They were too exciting to set aside for later examination.  You are reaching out to the world with your entire being.

Your hands have learned to grab and grab they do.  Mommy’s hair is now in ponytail lockdown mode.  She put away her pretty necklaces and dangly earrings for the time being.  She’s very soon to go out and buy some sturdier glasses.  Mama’s dreds are quickly turned into mountain climbing gear in your fists.  Yesterday you even grabbed your brother’s ear and tried to pull it off.  I could tell it hurt him, but he laughed anyway.  I think he was surprised at your strength and pleased that you chose to grab him.

You’ve also got some moves.  You are very very close to rolling over from your back to your belly.  Every time you get within an inch of a full roll, you swing your leg back and land firmly on your back again.  No rush, my son.  You will get it eventually.

You’ve fallen madly in love with trees.  When we go for a walk, I watch you watch them.  It is like seeing someone watch fireworks for the first time.  This alone makes me understand in some deep place that you are my son.   Mommy is a poet.  When she sees you see a tree, your eyes are a poem.

Here’s the best part: the world just got a little better.  I mean, I personally feel like the world is always getting better.  But this change is a big change.  We have elected a good man to lead our country.  Grandma did a lot of the work for it, so we’d all better give her a big thank you hug when we see her next. This man is calm and intelligent and when he speaks, people stop and listen and feel lifted up.  This good man will lead our country for much of your childhood.  I’m hoping he’ll be in office until you are at least eight years old. I’m so happy you will learn to walk and talk during a time when our country has a strong, caring leader who knows how to put a sentence together.  Our country is far from perfect, my son, but it has good bones. Mommy’s feeling pretty hopeful right now.

It is a sunny fall day.  I’m going to start some laundry and take you out for a walk. The trees are waiting.




Filed under my second son, Trucker

Prop 8 Action! A Quick One

Let’s get our big gay butts in gear.

Here’s a first action we can take:

Action #2

Boycott Marriott and Mrs. Fields, both LDS businesses and let everyone know that you are doing it and why you are doing it.  As in, Heeeeey yooooou guuuuuys!  I’m boycotting Marriott and Mrs. Fields because they use their money to commit hateful acts against families like my own.  Please join me.  I’l start my own damn mall-based cookie company if I have to.

Action #3

Any and all web advertising concerning marriage, contact the vendor and tell them that you are not interested in their products until you can legally get married, at which time I will gleefully fork over much cash.  Maybe we should do the same for TV ads.  But how would this work?  Any thoughts?

Any other actions?


Filed under Uncategorized

Preschool Democracy (and the Post In Which Oneofhismoms Screams From the Rooftops)

This was the scene in the elevator when my honey and Gwen took Cakie and three-year-old  “Hymen” to vote on election day:

The doors opened on the third floor and in walked Bill.

Bill: Where are you guys going?

Cake: We gonna vlote!  We gonna vlote!

Hymen: We’re going on a boat.

Bill:  Really?  You’re going to vote?

Cake:  We gonna ROCK OBAMA! (Cracks up.)

Funny? Yes.  Clearly they have no idea what they were about to do, nor what they did.  Neither did I, really.  I was so obsessed with getting the lying liars out of office, I didn’t fully understand what a huge thing rocking Obama really was.  First of all, I did not realize what a constant, nagging feeling of anger and embarrassment I had about the leadership of my country until I knew that it was going to change.  I literally feel like I got to check my 50 lb backpack full of bricks at the door of the Obama club and dance to the new music.  I swear, even food tastes better now.  The trees are prettier.  People (at least in Brooklyn, I can’t vouch for Oklahoma) are happier.  Second, my boys.  I look at my bi-racial boys now, and know that if all goes well, the next eight years, a huge chunk of their childhood, will be a time when they can see someone who looks like them giving the state of the union address.  For them, this will be the norm.  This great man, this man with integrity and kindness and an amazing sense of calm will be who they see as a leader.  They won’t have to hear the contempt in my voice when I talk about our government that I’ve had for, oh eight years.  This will be important for my boys.  Mommy actually respects the persident.  Hmmm.

So they made the announcement at 11 pm.  We did a happy dance in the livingroom and screamed, “WE ROCKED OBAMA!!!”  About five minutes later, I googled Proposition 8.  [Insert sound of screeching brakes here.]  Yeah.  That.  And Florida… and what? Arizona?  So America…far far far from perfect.  But better.  Much better than it was a week ago.  I’ve been thinking about it.  I can sit around and feel hated and sad. Sure.  That’s productive.  I can seethe with fury for those strangers who actively fought to take rights away from other Americans.  That would get done what, exactly?  I…we?  need to look at this as a bump in the road.  This is a path toward civil rights.  A black diamond trail going uphill, sure.  But we’re a sprightly bunch.  We gays work out often, no?  And our country and more specifically DC is now flooding with blue. We just have to keep kicking ass.  That’s it.  Go ahead, bitches.  Kick us while we’re down. We won’t stay down.  We will never stay down.  Never.


Filed under family, gay marriage, LGBT

Too Nervous

So much is on the line today.  I can’t even see straight.

Since I can’t see straight, I certainly can’t write for myself.  So, go read my friend’s well-written election post.

And then go VOTE.

I want to hear your voting experience.  Let me know how it went.  I’ll send you a virtual ice cream and a virtual coffee if you vote.

Love, OHM


Filed under Waiting and waiting and...