This week has been rough. Clients/family/adulting (in the form of medical bills, taxes as a business owner etc.)…tough…along with restarting intermittent fasting hardcore. Which makes me rather cranky. In the midst of hell week…a call from my wife’s family.
My wife’s company gave out Fitbits in order to track our steps and exercise patterns. They will put extra money into our HSA if we hit certain goals. So yeah. If you’re familiar with fitbit you know that they apparently vibrate when you haven’t moved in awhile?! Now not only am I making dietary changes like intermittent fasting and paleo based diet but I have a watch that vibrates to tell me that I am sedentary. Awesome.
It’s generally guaranteed to start vibrating during that intense moment with a client when they are revealing something super personal and vrrrmmm vrrrrmmm vrrrrmmm “you haven’t moved in awhile!” And I’m thinking this damn watch has to go.
I work as a nurse practitioner with 30 minute appointments for medication management follow-ups, 60 minutes for therapy, and yeah I’m booked through February so there’s a lot of back to back appointments with me only moving to walk some one out and the next one in.
But thanks for the reminder that I haven’t moved.
I have bumped up hot yoga to 3 nights a week again. Which makes me feel less bad when that damn thing vibrates.
This week also started every morning with my sons as a shit-show. Yesterday Jackson slammed Declan’s fingers in the bathroom door- it was an accident- but no less horrible. Screaming. Bleeding. Swelling. Meanwhile in my head I’m like, ‘I need to make my smoothie and we have to leave in twenty minutes!’ We had to call my wife, and my Mom via FaceTime to tell all his people his sad story and show them his swollen bleeding fingers.
He recovered and I got to make my smoothie.
Friday morning was show-and-tell. Me- “Don’t bring that it will break!” Him “I’m bringing it, it won’t break Mama I promise!” Him at 6:30 tonight when I come home, “Mama! My puppy broke!!!” Me- “———” Me in my head “Mother&$^#&@*$&*@$*###&&$$*#(@&&”
Let me add a little lesbian content (That’s a Hannah Gadsby reference if you still haven’t watched Nanette stop reading and go watch it, we can’t be friends until you do) my wife’s family disowned her 13 years ago now.
Then in this lesbian mom’s group I’m in some one asked how to cope with watching your partner deal with being disowned by her family. Too many responses. Too many of us have experience with this. My response was there’s nothing you can do. Keep your opinions to yourself. I didn’t share my opinions until we had kids. Then it was, they are either in or out. None of this pussyfooting bullshit. I don’t walk a line. I pick a side.
They didn’t impact me emotionally. But they weren’t going to be in and out or set up false expectations to our children. My boys either have a second set of grandparents or they don’t. Her parents have consistently chosen the side of intolerance and hate under the guise of religion.
What irks me, yes irks, is their consistent statements that they are “praying for us” to be brought over to “God’s plan”. Because I’m always thinking, “What if you’re wrong and THIS, this amazing life we have, is God’s plan?!”
I could go on. And on. But I won’t. Well maybe a little because yes that was said this week. The we are praying for you line. It’s also rather mean-spirited because if their prayers were truly answered our family would be split up. If we “followed God’s path or plan or whatever” we would both be heterosexual, divorce, and preach against gay marriage. That seems counterproductive and insulting. To everything that we are.
Suffice it to say, love your kids. Unconditionally. Even if they bring the stupid overpriced breakable puppy, that they painted in a stupid overpriced paint your own pottery shop, to daycare for show-and-tell when you explicitly warned them not to do it.
I glued the stupid puppy back together. I’ve had to chip off certain pieces with the biggest knife in our house (because the little knives didn’t work and weren’t sharp enough), glued my fingers to the stupid puppy (it’s gorilla glue, and trying to make nice seams)…but I still love those kids.
I’m also approaching my first birthday without my Dad. Yeah, I would never waste one second with my kids. I want to be in their lives until they tell me to go away, and even then I’ll come back.
We have our challenges. We butt heads. But their sexual orientation and gender identity wouldn’t make me turn them away, it would make me love them harder/stronger/more protective. Instead of kicking them out why would I not feel the need to protect them more?!
I will never understand my wife’s family’s decision. To cut her off and throw her out. To then continue homophobic views after she’s a Mommy and after we have two beautiful sons. I continue to pity them and the live’s they miss out on and I also continue to pray for them to see the light and love and acceptance of a God so different from their own.
I have no regrets in my relationship with my Dad. My only regret is not having more time with him. I knew with his last breath that he loved my sister and I. I knew we were his life. I knew that because he waited to die until she left and I was in the other room. He even tried to greet me and my sons with a smile the day he died.
I hope I have many years until my own death, but when it comes I will meet it with no regrets in my relationship with my sons. Because I choose love. I choose tolerance. I choose to accept rather than cast aside. I choose to learn from my parents and my wife’s parents. My parents accepted and loved.
I choose to pass on the legacy of love. Nothing less.
So I fixed the puppy.
Followed by a discussion about them listening to me when I veto a show-and-tell decision.