Dykes and Daycare Part II

We went to the movies for the first time with the boys last weekend. We saw Toy Story 4. I noted the scene at daycare drop off with a biracial lesbian couple hugging their child good-bye in the background. It was less than three seconds of screen time. But I wanted to stand up and be like “Hell yeah! Disney rocks!”

I didn’t though. I felt it all on the inside. (Birdcage reference…anybody?) I thought Toy Story 4 was rubbish. But I got to have a drink and recline while watching it and there was a biracial lesbian couple in the movie. All good things.

Then of course I had to read articles about “family values” and how Disney is forwarding the “homosexual agenda” blah blah blah. I’m still thinking ‘fuck yeah Disney!’.

Two women hugging their child good-bye at daycare. This is generally what happens on the regular with my wife and I. We are not always there together. But everyone knows the boys have two mom’s. I think it’s kind of funny that something Disney shows in the background is our every day. And there are articles and protests and boycotts because of it.

I’m thinking is there any one at daycare boycotting us? I don’t know.

I know tonight I was floating in my pool with Toy Story 3 playing on the deck, the boys laughing and eating pops while watching it, thinking it’s so cool to watch a movie on the deck, and it felt like one of those moments that I wanted when we were trying to get pregnant. I just couldn’t put that moment into words at the time.

I wanted a family. I wanted my wife talking to me while we relaxed in the pool listening to the boys in the background and Toy Story 3. It was indescribable. One of those “all the feel’s” moments. Perfection.

The last movie I saw in the theaters before Toy Story 4…I was pregnant and it was Into the Woods. The central premise is the baker’s wife trying to get pregnant. I sobbed the entire time while rubbing my belly. I worked so hard for those boys. My wife and I scarificed so much to have them.

Tonight for an evening; I know why I sobbed during Into the Woods. I know why I loved seeing a biracial lesbian couple in Toy Story 4. Because it was like I came full circle. Last movie I saw was a woman struggling to conceive. Now I could see a family.

I think it’s funny that people who preach “family values” think lesbians don’t have any.

Not funny. That’s simplifying an incredibly hurtful and deeply profound gut reaction I have when I read these articles by heterosexual good Christians preaching marriage the way God intended it to be. It’s painful to have most of our country think my family is not a family or less than their own family because of it’s make-up.

When Disney and any other major media outlet puts Queers in their shows or movies it is “normalizing” my family. It is saying, “We see you,” and for that I feel the opposite of that gut wrenching hurt. I feel hope. I feel seen. I feel loved.

It’s important. Queer visibility. Don’t minimize it. Don’t ignore it. Be part of the change.






Cutting Down the Christmas Tree and Twinning. 2018.

We survived without feeling like anyone hated us for being lesbians. So that’s a step up from last year. ¬†We contemplated going outside our town, even though there are five tree farms in our small little town. But I convinced my wife we could just try another tree farm. The guys working there were incredibly friendly and no one cared we were gay. Thank freaking God. Because we had enough to deal with.

My wife said we have two threenagers. I disagree. We have two three year old boys with my gene pool. It was bound to happen. They both are as stubborn as I am, Declan is as empathic as I am, and Jackson is as manipulative. Because yes, I know how to read people and I don’t use my powers for bad in terms of being manipulative, but at age three, who knows, I probably did. They are impatient as every three year old is, but it’s also worse because patience may not be part of my personality at all. Ever.

My Jackson knows how to melt me. Declan knows he just doesn’t milk it quite like his brother.

So there we are at the tree farm. Now I’m picturing finding the perfect tree, having the boys stand and watch in awe as we cut it down. Then enjoying hot cider in the barn afterward. Yeah I don’t know how I thought that vision would be reality. Sometimes I feel incredibly naive as a Mama of twins.

After a long and cold walk my wife and I found the tree. I called the boys over who were crawling on the ground, chasing each other around, and showing off for two little girls who were there with their parents. They come stumbling over, laughing, and I tell them proudly, “Here’s our tree!” They look at it. Declan proceeds to dive into it like he’s diving into home base, then he cracks himself up and stands up and starts trying to climb it. I’m yelling at Declan to stop climbing the tree as the branches start to bend under his weight and Jackson has completely lost interest and has his back turned and is staring at the girls.

We cut it down (by we I mean my wife) and I had to literally drag Jackson back with us as he decided to throw a tantrum. It was cold. We were all hungry. We had a big tree and a big saw that we had to carry back and herd two hangry boys.

What I’m constantly reminding myself with strong willed twin boys is nothing will be how I picture it and/or how I want it and I need to be okay with that.

At Thanksgiving they barely sat for five minutes at the table and the one group picture I’m literally holding Declan down to the chair. Getting the tree we are not going to have a family moment where we sing Oh Christmas Tree as we cut it down. It’s going to be a mess. It’s going to be running after them, herding them like cats, some one crying, some one hitting, some one climbing, and then just when I think I’m ready to toss them across the freaking tree farm Jackson will come up to me, pull me down to eye level, hold my face in both his hands and say, “Mama, I wanna donut.” Then kiss me and wait for me to say “Of course baby.”

So many people I talk to daily have ideas of how life and moments “should be” and what I’m finding is if I focus on the should’s, it makes me upset at the here and now, and I’m missing it. I’m missing the crazy. Because that’s what it is having twin boys. A whole lot of crazy intermingled with those moment of hands cradling my face asking for donuts.

It’s exhausting. I feel tired all the time since I’ve had them. And I’m sick of people saying innocent things like, “Oh you are getting your tree this weekend? That will be fun with the boys!” or “Christmas will be so fun this year!” or “The boys must have loved Thanksgiving.” I just smile and nod. But in my head I hear this evil maniacal laugh and I’m thinking ‘You want fun? You think it will be fun? Fuck you.’ Because it’s fun but it’s also work. It’s an incredible amount of energy. All the time. And sometimes all that work and energy only gets us a temper tantrum. Which literally makes me want to cry.

There are moments as a Mom when I want to just fall to my knees and say, “You win,” to them. I want to crawl under my covers and go to sleep for a week.

But we trudge onward. Because that’s apparently what parents do.

We get the tree. We put it up. (Well first we hose it down and my wife and I were snippy with each other after the exhausting tree farm experience, so I’m spraying it and it starts to slide down the house and I’m saying ‘grab it, grab it,’ and she’s yelling at me, ‘stop spraying the water!’ which I don’t. So it falls. Then we are yelling at each other as she’s picking it up, and I’m still trying to spray it, the boys are running around with their doughnuts, and then we are cracking up because we realize we are ridiculous)

We appreciate the absolute shit-show it is hanging up the ornaments. I laugh as I pick an ornament off the bottom of the tree, the branch bent to the floor, by not one but a chain of three ornaments one of them made and hung. I made little pizzas thinking they would love them. They of course did not touch them and wanted a year old candy cane they found in the ornament bin.

As I lamented the individual pizzas I came across an ornament that listed all of our names, and I called them over and I said “Look babies, look, it says Declan, Jackson, Mama, and Mommy, it’s all of us.” And they did actually look, and Jackson snatched it out of my hand, and walked around carrying it for the next hour and he and Declan would intermittently hold it up and say, “My famwee” “My famwee” (family). And it was that moment. That moment where I stopped caring that they didn’t stand nicely in front of our tree at the farm, that I had to drag them across the freaking farm screaming while holding a saw, and that they didn’t eat the pizza and I was just content. Content to have my famwee with all its imperfections.