Grunt 'n' Squeak

Happy Halloween!

It's that time of year again, when we come up with grandiose ideas for what the kids should be for Halloween, and fully commit ourselves to insane amounts of work and money for a holiday our kids don't understand or care about yet, all for the gratification of taking cute pictures and listening to others tell us that they look adorable.  Without further ado, here they are, the best Oompa Loompa's ever, and we hope you all have a fun Halloween!

 

 

 

 

Two Years Ago

Two years ago today I couldn't see my feet.  I could hardly walk, I could barely breath, and I was scared shitless.  

Two years ago today we picked my mom up from the airport, and we went to the Olive Garden for dinner, for one last pre-baby hurrah.  I didn't eat much, I was too scared.  Scared in general, scared of surgery, scared I'd get sick during or after surgery, scared of being a mom, scared of surgery, scared of my kids, and whether when push came to shove I'd be able to step up to the plate and be the kind of mom I wanted to be, scared of surgery.

Two years ago today I was frantically trying to put my house back together, the best I could given my physical limitations, after having the carpet in the entire house replaced the day before.  This was not poor planning on our part, it was a warranty job, and in one of my only glorious attempt to "nest", I wanted it done before the babies were born.  My second attempt to "nest" was taking the dogs to Petsmart to be groomed before the babies came.  I think Amy is still sporting scars from that seemingly innocent trip through the store, and my absolute burning hatred for the idiot who decided it was a good idea to put the entrance to grooming in the back of the store found a whole new reason to flare that day.  I don't think the dogs have been groomed at Petsmart since.  

Two years ago today I was feeling my babies movements inside of me for the last time.  I was in absolute elation that we had made it safely to the pre-determined delivery date, with no pre-term labor or complications.  I was in awe that after all the frustration and hell we'd been through to create these babies, after all the times my body had failed me, hadn't been the right size, the right shape, done the right things, when it really mattered, my broken and imperfect body had finally done something right, and carried my babies to term.  I'd brought them this far, and it was now someone else's turn to hold them for a while.  

Two years ago tomorrow I watched Amy suit up in a flattering white hospital jump-suit while she made fun of my monumental cankles.  I saw the disappointment in my mom's eyes as the nurse was telling her that she was sorry, there was just not enough room to have an extra person in the operating room to see the boys be born, and in the very next breath, ask my permission to have a nursing student stand in to watch the surgery.  I was still scared shitless.  I wanted very much to get off the table and go home to watch videos in my pajamas and balance my cereal bowl on my belly, but instead I used my deep breathing techniques from my childbirth class to keep from having an anxiety attack. 

Two years ago tomorrow, Amy almost missed seeing her kids be born because of a stupid nurse, but made it in time to take the most spectacularly grotesque and fascinating pictures I have ever seen.  I survived the surgery and stopped being scared as I heard first one tiny baby cry out, and a minute or two later, a second distinctly different baby cry.  I heard our camera shutter clicking away, and felt Amy hold her breath twice, in what I later came to realize was that painful eternity between the time when you first see your baby, and then you hear that first scream. 

Two years ago tomorrow, Benjamin came into the world a whopping 7lbs, 2 oz, and Grayson followed one minute behind, at 6lbs, 5 oz.  After saying hello to me, they were promptly whisked away to the nursery, and I didn't see them again for hours, though Amy came in to give me updates as often as she could tear herself away. 

Two years ago tomorrow, I had my heart stolen by two tiny little men.  I watched my partner kick into mom mode, and I gained a new found respect for her ability to instantly devote her entire being to these two helpless babies, and at the same time she selflessly nursed me through a pretty brutal recovery. 

Two years ago tomorrow I had no idea that Benjamin would be such a mama's boy, and that Grayson would have such an inquisitive nature, but I did know instantly that these little guys had arrived with their own distinct personalities, and that they already had their own ideas about how things would go, despite any preparations on my part.  I can't believe it's gone so fast, though I knew in my heart that it would.  Happy Birthday my little men, I can't wait to see what kind of people you are two years from now!

 

 

ps, there are fun new pics of their second birthday party on the right there...

Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day!  I can't believe that this will be our second mother's day with the boys, (third, if you count pregnancy, and I do, because damn it, pregnancy ain't easy, and the kids don't get here without it, even if you aren't the one who carried your child).   I can't believe how fast my children are growing, and I can't believe that I still find it novel that I'm celebrating Mother's Day as a mom myself. 

To be honest, I have a hard time believing that the Mom title is mine.  And it's not because we had some terrible long-fought battle becoming pregnant, and year after year I watched Mother's Day roll by, and I still wasn't a mom.  Nope, that's not it.  I've seen people go through that, and even though our one year trying to get pregnant was insanely emotional, it's nothing compared to a lot of the infertile stories I followed over the course of that year, or friends and family who tried a lot longer than we did.  We paid our dues for sure, and earned our kids, but we (mostly) didn't wonder if it would ever happen. It's more like a crisis of existential proportions, where I can't believe this is all real. 

When I think of "mom", I think of MY mom.  I think of how nice it was to be little and not worry about the money or the details or what was for dinner, or what we were going to do next, because my mom was really great at being a mom.  She did it all, she was wonder woman, who worked, and cooked and cleaned, and seemed to have it all together all the time.  Because she was so great at it, it took us a while to catch on that maybe she didn't have it as together all of the the time as we thought, and a good number of years longer to appreciate that she IS a wonder woman.  It seems too surreal to contemplate my own little beings looking up at me that way, especially since I tend to feel that I only have my shit together about one hour out of the week.  The rest of the time this little raft is careening rather out of control, and luckily the rapids have been pretty mild. 

Don't get me wrong, I don't underestimate my mom-ly powers.  Some days, when I can get the kids fed, and we make it to appointments on time, or I get to the end of the day and there are two toddlers safe and sound and asleep, I think that I kick some mama butt.  But when I call the pediatricians office and say "Hi, this is Ben's mom..." I can't help but giggle a little stupidly in my head when I use the word "mom."  I speak once in a while with my next-door neighbor, and we commiserate about things that have happend with our kids, but for some reason I feel like I should be connecting more with her 20 year old daughter.  I'm just not grown up enough to have kids, or to be the wonder woman with all of the answers, or to be calling pediatricians, or making play dates.  There is too much out there that I don't know to be trusted to impart wisdom and knowledge on members of the next generation.  I still laugh at Southpark reruns, I still throw fits when I lose at card games, and I still think about 15 times a day that I want my mommy.  How can anyone in their right mind look up to me like I did, and do, to my own mom?

Thank goodness I have some time before my own kids catch on to the fact that I don't have it all together.  I am thankful that I've still got time to figure out some of my own neuroses before I pass all of them on to my cute little guys.  I am especially thankful that I have a wonderful, caring, compassionate, capable partner to share this "mom" title, so later when the boys are in therapy, at least it won't be all about me.  And for this Mother's Day, we will celebrate the fact that the boys are healthy, happy, and thriving.  We will celebrate that diaper rash and sunburns are infreaquent occurences, that there are finally little words rolling akwardly off little toddler lips, and because of that, so far, Amy and I are making the mommy grade, and our kids can go ahead and think we are awesome.    And looking back over the past two years, I think we are pretty awesome.

We Are Equal

Family

Yesterday I broke down and went to the doctor again.  This time I left with prescriptions, hopefully ones that will make life much better.  I am now on antibiotics, and I asked for the mother of all cough medicines, which I saved for bedtime.  I slept all the night through, minus one incident to take more cough medicine, and I feel like a new woman.  Ahhhh, the sweet bliss of real recovery.

During the boys' nap time yesterday I pulled out the spinning wheel and created some significantly less crappy yarn, and listened to Talk of the Nation on NPR.  Their conversation was about the Donor Sibling Registry that I've already discussed concerns about here.  I've more or less come to terms with how to handle this with the boys since my original posting, but I can't help but listen to the media coverage every time the subject comes up and I'm around to hear it.  I want to hear all the perspectives out there, and I want to know what other people in the same situation think.  There were no earth-shattering opinions to wobble my approach, but it's an intriguing listen nonetheless, especially if this is a subject that does or will concern you and your family. 

I am so grateful for the opinions that you, the internets and friends, offered after my initial blast with the realization that yes, there are donor siblings out there for the boys to discover.  I knew this as a theoretical possibility all along, but the reality knocked me unexpectedly a-kilter.  Since then, I've had some months just to quietly ponder what should or should not be done with this information, and I've decided that these are the boys' siblings to discover, not mine or Amy's.  We will do our best to always be honest with them about where they came from, how much their mommies loved and wanted them, and keep all of the information at an age-appropriate level.  Once they are old enough to fully understand, we will let their own curiosity guide our approach.  If they want to become a member of the registry themselves and contact their siblings, we will be supportive in whatever way we can.  

And now, as an aside, another interesting thing I heard on NPR yesterday is that the same lawyer who fought the Massachusetts supreme court on behalf of the the rights of gays and lesbians to marry (and won, as we all know) is now taking her battle to the federal level, against the Defense of Marriage act, to win the rights of those married in MA to reap the benefits of the marriage on the federal level.  It may sound stupid, but you go girl!!!  Their argument is that the Defense of Marriage Act was established to protect states' rights to define marriage.  And now that same act is discriminating against one state who's decision was to allow gays to marry.  I will fully admit that this is a blurb I've heard on NPR, no research of my own, so if I have some facts messed up, forgive me.  The counter argument was that all that the Federal Government has to do is prove that the institution of marriage is recognized and established to protect the efforts of procreation, thus, they are not obligated to extend those rights to Gays and Lesbians.  Here is where I cry bullshit.  If they honestly get away with discrimination based on that argument, ours is a flawed flawed world.

First off, we all know that there is no one monitoring straight couples in their efforts of procreation.  They get the benefits whether they choose to have children or not.  Second, in this day and age of assisted reproduction, adoption, and surrogacy, gay and lesbian couples ARE procreating, so how can you deny us the federally recognized rights of marriage?  The passage of Proposition 8 tore more families apart than it will ever protect, and the federal government is doing the same thing.  I'm sick and tired of hearing that all of this is in the name of protecting the family.  What about my family? Or families with single moms?  Or families headed by Grandparents, and Aunts, and Uncles?  Lets pull our heads out and start protecting ALL families.

How time flies

The boys turn 16 months old today.  Not really a milestone date, I know, but their mommy did call them from work to sing them happy 16 month birthday on speaker phone while they ate breakfast.  I, on the other hand, am marking the occasion by running the self clean feature on the oven for the first time, well, since I've owned the thing.  We've lived in this house for 5 years.  Yes, I am terrible at keeping things clean.   I'm crossing my fingers that the whole house doesn't burn down because of it.  And I'm in another one of those trade-off dilemmas where I have to decide if we should start it and leave, because it smells really yucky, or if I should stick out the smell as punishment for never running it, and stay close by with the fire extinguisher in hand for the next 4 hours just in case.  I've opted to stay here and suffer.  Ok, I didn't exactly wake up and say Happy Birthday!  Let's make the house stink!  But it is a good time to think about my sweet boys and all they've accomplished (and a few things they haven't). 

Ben is an amazingly sensitive little man, who will cry at the drop of a hat.  He will let you know with piercing screams if you've slighted him in the least.  He will also crawl into your lap to read books, gives excellent kisses by planting both hands on your cheeks and bringing you in close for an open-mouthed peck, and loves letting his brother roll over the top of him for fun.  For the last month he has been determined to get this walking thing down, and though there wasn't a magical click, he did seem to go from primarily crawling to primarily walking in just two days.  He has an infectious laugh, and is the only person I've ever know that deliberately puts your hands right on his ticklish spots so he can squeal and squirm.

Grayson has also mastered walking, and along side his brother switched from crawling to walking in a single day.  He has taken his walking skills one step further, and uses them to push toys and furniture against tables and shelves so he can climb up and make mischief on a whole new level.  Nothing is safe from his little grasp.  He finds it delightfully funny to be told no, and even funnier if you scoop him up and tell him to knock it off.  His light red hair is finally growing in, and all our friends comment on how red it's become recently.  We ssay no, it's not just now red, it's just now he has some and you can see it.  He's got the cutest smile and the longest eyelashes, and loves to be charming when he thinks it'll get him somewhere.  He also loves giving kisses when he's in the mood, and tends to put his whole body into them...watch out for the teeth. 

Neither one of them has figured out the talking thing yet, and we still wait for them to call us mama, or call us at all.  Ben watches your mouth intently when you talk, and Grayson will follow commands, so we know their language gears are turning in there, they just haven't made the connection to their own lips just yet.  Any time now, I'm sure...

I love you little guys!  Happy un-birthday!

Catch more flies...

Hmph.  I would have hoped that the gay community would step up and show a bit more class following our heartbreaking defeat in California.  I wish I could leave this subject alone now, move on, and be finished.  But I keep hearing about it in the news, and I'm not very happy about the stories I'm hearing.  Oh yeah, and the United States of America still just thinks I'm playing house with my good buddy Amy. 

I was listening to NPR just now, and heard a story about how the Mormon Church is receiving threats in the mail including suspicious powders, churches are being vandalized, and boycotts are being called for on Mormon based business, and the Sundance film festival, all over the passage of Prop 8 in California.  My visions for equal rights are sinking faster than the Titanic.  And for hell's sake, why is it that whenever they show footage on the news of gays protesting for their rights (which I'm all for, protest away, on whatever public property you have the right to be on), the person with the loudest voice, standing on the soap box, crusading for the rights of Gay familes, is a half-naked drag queen in full stage costume?  Way to scare the shit out of the religious right folks. 

I strongly believe with all my heart that people have the right to marry whomever they choose, so long as it's a marriage between two consenting adults, sex or gender be damned.  But I also firmly believe in religious freedom, without persecution, again, so long as there is no abuse or harm done to others.  If the Mormon Church doesn't want to marry gays, fine, don't.  As a gay, I don't want to be part of a church that doesn't want me.  There are plenty of other spiritual congregations out there who aren't damning me to hell, and I'm happy to have been married in one of their churches.  Besides, the Mormon's have a long history of persecution, and you think a little white powder and grafitti will hold them back? Think again.  Changes in attitudes within the Mormon Church about homosexuality will only come about from within the church itself.   And you catch more flies with honey...

I am just one small voice in the gay community, and frankly, I don't have much to say because I'm too busy leading my life, raising my kids, going out with friends, making dinner, internet shopping, grocery shopping, cleaning my house, following local politics, knitting, washing my car, calling my family, worrying about money, dropping into bed at the end of the day too tired to commit anything like the acts of fornication all those Mormons must be imagining, before starting it all over again the next day.  And that is clearly one of our biggest problems in the Gay community.  All of us who are just living our boring lives are too busy living life to stand up in the movement and make ourselves heard.  We need to make friends with our neighbors, let our kids play with the Mormon kids, join the local Moms clubs and show up at the play dates.  We need to talk about our lives when the opportunity arrises, with no shame, no secrets, no closet.  I'm truly dismayed that we have to fight so hard for something so simple, but I'm also really glad that when someone asks me personal questions about my family or my "husband" I can politely tell them the truth, let them know that they know someone who is gay, and normal, and boring.  If they don't like it, I at least live in a day and age where they can't say anything about it to my face because it's also rude of them to look like a gay-hating bigot.

Having grown up in Utah, with an insider's perspective on the Church and the State, I am really sad right now that the plan of action within the gay community is to protest businesses and cultural events in Utah.  First of all, Utah did not do this.  Voters in California, who stepped into the voting booth with no one looking over their shoulders, ultimately made their own decision.  This doesn't mean that attitudes in Utah don't need to change, because they certainly do, and attitudes need to change all over the country to end descrimination.  But by protesting and boycotting Utah Ski resorts, Utah based businesses (some of which are publically owned and didn't contribute to Prop 8 either way), and the Sundance film festival, we will dig mostly into the economy along the Wasatch Front and Salt Lake City itself, the most liberal area of the state.  Not to stereotype, but wouldn't boycotting the Sundance Film Festival just be taking a stab at the most creative types?  The very gay community you are trying to defend?  Those who are most eager to tell truthful and educating stories of the gay community?  Hardly seems like a good idea to me. 

I'm an out, and proud, lesbian, but the actions of the gay and lesbian community aren't helping my cause to protect my children and wife from injustice.  With just a paperclip, some raffia, and a U-haul the gay community could pull off the best damn gay wedding you've ever seen, but we can't get our shit together for something as important as this. Frankly, I'm ready to move to Canada and quit caring about the whole mess. 

Donor Dilemma

Have I mentioned lately how absolutely head over heels in love with my boys I am?  I'm ever to grateful and excited to have them, and I feel truly privileged to be their mom.  And I am ever so glad that Amy gets to be their other mom, cuz she's an amazing mom. 

The decision to create our little alternative family wasn't hard at all.  We knew that most other families would not look like ours, and our children would have to face some challenges coming from a two-mommy household.  All kids are faced with some challenges, it's part of life.  And it's easy to think about the issues they may face when they are just theoretical, and we don't actually have to make any moves at the time.  We also knew pretty certainly that we wanted to create our family through an anonymous donor.  We didn't want to know the person who offered up half of the genetic material to our kids.  We wanted to know about him, for sure, but it wasn't necessary for us to be able to point to an actual person and show our children the person who gave sperm to make them.  Our children are the products of a love that Amy and I share, and will be built from the experiences we offer them through life, relationships that are real and tangible. 

I am not naive to the fact that our boys will be curious about their biological roots.  And in all our theoretical musings about how we will handle their questions, we have just decided to be honest with them and answer any questions they may have as they arise.  We don't believe that it will take very long for questions to start popping up, it will be obvious to the boys that they have two mommies and most of their friends will have a mom and dad.  There won't be any way to hide the fact that they came from a donor from them, and we certainly don't want to.

As we are nearing the end of the boys' first year, it's still relatively easy to ignore the donor issue.  We live our lives from day to day, and it doesn't ever come up.  But I went to a website the other day (Super Nanny, if you must know, yes we are learning parenting techniques from prime-time television, but what can I say, she rocks...) and there was this article entitled "Donor Children, When and What to Tell them" or some equally eye-catching title for a mom with donor children.  Basically, tell them all you can as soon as you can seemed to be the main point.  And of course, they linked the the Donor Sibling Registry as part of the resources in the article. 

We were aware of the Donor Sibling Registry as a part of our research into banks and resources for creating our family.  So to all of our kind friends and family that call or email us every time the Oprah episode about the registry re-airs on TV, we already know about it, you can stop bringing it up.  The first time I visited the site, we didn't even have children on the way yet, and as far as I could tell, you had to pay a membership fee to see any listings on it.  I thought it would be a great resource for our future children one day if they ever cared to look it up, and pretty much left it at that.  I found myself on the site again just a few days ago, and it turns out you can look for listings without paying the fee, although to get much information beyond the basics, you do have to fork over $50 (that we don't really have right now).  The information that I found has been stewing around in my brain ever since, and has started turning some of those theoretical issues into tangible dilemmas. Yet again, it's easy to theoretically think that the boys have genetic half-siblings out there somewhere, and forget all about it.  Turns out it's not as easy for me to just not think about it when I've discovered that they have genetic half-sisters out there, including one set of twins born the same year they were.  If I take action now, they could possibly grow up having a real relationship with others who share the same donor, rather than discovering them down the road when they become curious enough to start asking questions.

Truly, I am torn.  I have always said that the more people who love my children, the better off they will be.  But I also have this (possibly irrational) gut reaction that these are my children, and I don't want to share them.  What if they decide that the other families who happened to use the same donor are cooler than theirs, and they start resenting us?  What if the parents of their genetic half-siblings turn out to be total asses, and I end up regretting having made contact?  What if I do nothing now out of fear or ambivalence, and our boys miss out on knowing pieces of their genetic puzzle? 

What would you do?  What would you want to know if you were a donor child?  For now I'm just gonna sit here and stew.  But if you have any comments or insight, I'd really really like to hear it.  And if you don't want to leave your comments publicly, email me.