The Dad Question (Revisited)

On Mondays I usually pick up Big and Sidekick's little sister from preschool. We are lucky that the younger two go together to the same school and the older two go together to the same K-8 school, so we can share rides.

When I went to pick up Big and Sidekick's little sister today at the end of their preschool day, one of the teachers came up to me to tell me about something that had happened that day.

They had been discussing family origin that day and had paid some attention to Sidekick's little sister who is adopted from China, noting that her parents, her "mom" and "dad" were from China.

The teacher then said that Big had asked where his "dad" came from.

The discussion was awkward and quite poorly planned.

The end of the day at that school is pure chaos, and picking up two little ones only compounds the issue. They are thrilled to be showing me the things they did that day, while simultaneously needing to get a drink, needing to pee, or gathering their things or saying their long and loving goodbyes to their friends while I am focusing on getting the (FOUR!) lunchboxes between the two of them, their backpacks, coats and extraneous (yet incredibly important-to-them as I have learned--the hard way--in the past as in "did you remember to bring home the crown I made in school today?" while I thought to myself "was that thing I threw away on the way to the car a CROWN?!?!?!") daily materials to found in each of their boxes.

I'm trying to focus on what the teacher is telling me while hearing "Baba. Baba. Baba. BABA!!! BABA!!!!! BABA!!!!!" at my ankles and Sidekick's sister reminding me that she needs her lunchbox.

"He asked where his DAD came from."

She repeated as if I hadn't heard.

I stopped and pushed back all of my incredulity at this woman, who I know to be loving and caring and sensitive, for not having the understanding to deal with this in a more nuanced way. We had been at this school before, five years ago now, and many of our lesbian-familied friends had gone there as well, so it is not as though it was the first time they'd dealt with families of our ilk.

I paused with her for a moment and as she was being swept away by the children demanding her attention, I pulled her back to the conversation:

"Please avoid using the term 'Dad'. He doesn't have one. And we will be using the term 'donor' to him. . . "

"When he is ready?" she interrupted.

"Yes. . . . "

She was swept away then and I noted, a little louder to be heard over the end-of-day din "Or just say Irish-German and let it go with that."

It was awkward and strange and, even now that I am thinking about it, they shouldn't really refer to Sidekick's sister's biological parents as her "mom" and "dad". But I was not composed enough to have said all of that at that moment.

All of this made me realize again that we can't just move through the world in an unthinking way. Big hadn't started asking questions yet, so we hadn't really thought about it much. Although he does still, often, insist that I am a boy which, I think is sort of truish, but may be just denial on his part. It made me realize that even in the most liberal, accepting and loving setting that we may have to do some education around this topic.

So I turned to Lesbian Dad and her posts and her lists of resources for some help on this. You'll note that I've added some resources to this blog (to the right of this post) and links to some of her stuff. She also links to Mombian and a particularly well-crafted posts related to kids and schools. Lesbian Dad is truly a great resource for all of us out there and I hope that you look to her when you need some help like I have. I'll be putting together a list for our preschool in the hopes that they'll be better able to accommodate families like ours in the future and better able to address our kids' natural curiosities.

Check out THIS Perspective: Queer Kids of Queer Parents Against Gay Marriage

Queer Kids of Queer Parents Against Gay Marriage

As young queer people raised in queer families and communities, we reject the liberal gay agenda that gives top priority to the fight for marriage equality. The queer families and communities we are proud to have been raised in are nothing like the ones transformed by marriage equality. This agenda fractures our communities, pits us against natural allies, supports unequal power structures, obscures urgent queer concerns, abandons struggle for mutual sustainability inside queer communities and disregards our awesomely fabulous queer history.

Cousin's Mom as Guest Blogger

Your Mom and Aunt Betty read those Little House books aloud to their kids. Did you know that? It may even have been before [your sister] was born. My Mom used to buy the books - one for each - and they'd trade them around between the two of them. I never read any of them. I think [two of Cousin's brothers] glommed on to them through school or maybe the library and read them on their own.

I guess genes must be awfully strong. There are so many times in your blog it reminds me of your Mother. She had a very strong interest in plants, trees, flowers, etc like you do. She knew every bird's song when she'd hear it and could imitate a lot of them, so they'd whistle back and forth and have a conversation.

She and Betty did a lot together with their kids - a lot like you and [Cousin] are doing. How lucky can you get?!?

I loved your thoughts about winter. Even here in Nebraska, I have feelings like that in November and then it's never as bad as I thought it would be.

Love you lots,

Cousin's Mom

The Long Winter

So Nine and I are reading The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder together.

I've had to get a little proprietary with books with her. A year or so ago, we had started Chasing Vermeer, the first book of the series by Blue Balliet (which Cousin pointed us to -- thank you!) one evening. BioMom and I usually take turns, one putting Nine to bed while the other puts Big to bed.

As an aside, Big is usually slightly more difficult to put to bed and, well, let's just say that the reading material is somewhat less interesting. That is not to say that the one who gets Nine has won the lottery or anything, Big is a hoot to put to bed, it's just different, that's all.

So anyway, it was at least a day or so until I got back to her and Chasing Vermeer, only to find that she had bolted ahead without me and eighty or so pages later, the plot was now beyond my comprehension.

Now I make her piggy-swear that our books are OUR books.

So, we're reading The Long Winter together now.

I have only read parts of these books both in my own experience as a kid, and now, as Nine has dabbled in them (not consecutively) both in her own personal pursuit and through school requirements. So I had definitely not spent any real time with Ingalls Wilder as an author, nor had I really watched the show more than a little bit here and there as a kid.

Grandma and Grandpa had bought us tickets to see the Little House on the Prairie the musical a few weeks ago (their daughter -BioMom's eldest sister- was involved with a charity that linked a silent auction/dinner with the show, so we were a few intended beneficiaries of their generosity). Melissa Gilbert was playing Ma, so it was extra special for us.

And got me thinking, as I was watching the show and sort of beginning to nod off: What the hell is this about?

Then BioMom whispered into my ear: I bet if you haven't read these stories, that this wouldn't make much sense.

Not being from Minnesota, I tend to spend a bit more time hunkering down for what I perceive as the impending seven months that are about to descend on us. I have been known to put the lawn chairs in in September, purchase too many pairs of gloves, sweaters and snow pants, and tune up the snow blower a bit too eagerly.

There is something about the winter here that you have to wrap your head around.

Particularly among those who have just moved from Washington DC (I still perceive myself to have JUST moved from there despite the fact that it is coming on ten years that I have now resided in this hearty country).

Growing up in Nebraska, too, is a far cry from this. Even my own experiences in Willa Cather country, and seeing the Louis and Clark trail could not prepare me to spell prairie correctly on the first try or know the difference in the temperature based on the sound of snow cracking under my feet as BioMom does.

So, I thought, why not read A Long Winter?

So we started.

And I read this about Laura and Carrie tramping through the prairie to town:

At first it was fun. It was rather like going into the jungle-picture in Pa's big green book. Laura pushed ahead between the thick clumps of grass-stems that gave way rustling and closed again behind Carrie. The millions of coarse grass-stems and their slender long leaves were greeny-gold and golden-green in their own shade. The earth was crackled with dryness underfoot, but a faint smell of damp lay under the hot smell of the grass. Just above Laura's head the grass-tops swished int eh wind, but down at their roots was a stillness, broken only where Laura and Carrie went wading through it.

And then this:

Laura looked at Pa and she knew he was listening too. The silence was as terrible as cold is. It was stronger than any sound. It could stop the water's lapping and the thin, faint ringing in Laura's ears. The silence was no sound, no movement, no thing; that was its terror. Laura's heart jumped and jumped, trying to get away from it.

And fell in love with its brilliance.

When I announced, however, my desire to work my way through the books consecutively, Nine sighed audibly.

I did not know I was on my own until she handed me a new "our book": So B. It by Sarah Weeks that she got from the library.

And the Batfamily

Captured on film in the height of their domesticity.

Fighting Crime in Gotham City

Batman, captured on film, seen speeding through the streets of Gotham City, 31 October, 2009.

Scholastic Books Update

They REVERSED their policy! Here's to buyer power!

Hypothesis: Sexism and Congratulations on New Baby!

Let me know if you think I'm right about this.

There is research from around the world that parents tend to favor having boys. For example, we know that parents are more likely to have a second or third child if their first and second are girls.*

Recently, a friend of mine had her 20 week sonogram to find out the sex of her baby.

It is a girl!!

Around the office I heard lots of congratulatory remarks, one of which I have heard before but only now made this connection. Here's the remark:

It doesn't matter what the sex is, as long as its healthy!

I am wondering if people are more likely to say this when they hear from the prospective parent that it is a girl.

What do you think?

*Here is some relevant research:
Dahl, Gordon B. and Enrico Moretti. 2008. “The Demand for Sons.” Review of Economic Studies, 75(4): 1085-1120.

Emerson, Patrick M. and André P. Souza. 2007. “Child Labor, School Attendance, and Intrahousehold Gender Bias in Brazil.” World Bank Economic Review, 21(2): 301-316.

Duflo, Esther. 2003. “Grandmothers and Granddaughters: Old-Age Pensions and Intrahousehold Allocation in South Africa.” World Bank Economic Review, 17(1): 1-25.

DRAT!

So yesterday at preschool a teacher was reading a book to a group of kids.

She got to the word DRAT! when she paused, and pondered, aloud, whether or not the kids knew of that word.

I bet that you all don't know what this word means! Do any of you know this word?

One child, whose name will be left out of this post for reasons of confidentiality (suffice it to say that he is one big kid) responded:

Is it like JESUS CHRIST!!!?

National Writing Day

Circumstances beyond my control have enabled me to, at least in part, write over the anniversary of my mom's death (Oct 20, 1978).

First, my cousin had her first, a boy, 23 years later.

Second, I am now able to participate in National Writing Day!

Check out their gallery of writing!

Scholastic censors book because main character has same-sex parents

Scholastic has decided to censor Lauren Myracle’s new book Luv Ya Bunches (Abrams/Amulet, 2009) because they say it failed to “meet its vetting process because it contains offensive language and same-sex parents of one the main characters.”

Bushwacking for Beavers!

While Upnorth (I'm adopting this as one word not unlike how Newyorkers might say Upstate), we found this awesome beaver dam while on a hike!

The beavers had, incredibly, created an entire pond that, apparently, wasn't there before. You could see signs for blue diamond cross-country ski trails nailed to trees that were flooded by the water. Here's a picture of the den from a different perspective. The above picture was what I will call in front and below it, while the below picture was above and, sort of, behind it.



Here's the den.

There was beaver scat everywhere which we couldn't help but pick at with sticks only to find bones, bugs and all other sorts of goodies that had been through the beaver's digestive system. Big and Nine were enthralled.

As a souvenir we took a particularly gnawed-on trunk that must weigh at least eight pounds. You can see from this picture that it was gnawed on at both ends AND in the middle. Big carried it in to school today for show-and-tell!

Do You Have Food Rules?

Cousin pointed this out to me, a blog about a New York Times article by Michael Pollan on your food Do's and Dont's, inviting people to write in their own (sometimes bizarre) rules about food.

I'm sure I always had food rules, but they have certainly manifested themselves with kids around.

Like when it is 8:30 a.m. and they want a candy bar?

Or when they want their fourth bowl of cereal or sixth plate of spaghetti?

For me, food usually falls into one of two categories. It is either a) a means to an end: my stomach is yelling at me so I put something in there to quiet it down or I am wanting to go on a long bike ride and need energy or b) it is an event: Coffee over a book looking out a window, homemade blueberry pie on vacation, or a cheese-filled burger at the local Jucy-Lucy joint.

Same Age, Similar Pose

They might look similar, but whoa. They don't ACT the same.