We celebrated Yule today, and while today was interesting, exciting, and wonderful, I have to start the story with last night.
We are still slowly developing our pagan rituals and celebrations so for now Yule looks mostly like Christmas here without the manger scene, church, or much talk of Christ. We participate in the tradition of Santa Claus, but Santa Claus comes on Yule here. So, last night we informed our children that tomorrow was Yule/Christmas and I told MC that "Santa may bring you a doll, or a horsey, or something like that". Well, apparently that was both just the right thing to tell my wonderfully different son to get him excited and just the wrong thing to tell the little guy to get him to SLEEP. He ended up being so excited that despite starting bedtime at 7:30pm it wasn't until after midnight and a drive in the Van with BS that he finally fell asleep. Poor little guy. Every time he'd almost fall asleep he'd snap his eyes open and in his very limited speech capacity express his excitement by saying "Ho Ho Ho", he was watching for Santa.
So, this morning around 8am OC wakes up and climbs from his room (baby gate) into ours since he has to go through our room to get to the main areas of the house. I looked up at him and told him he was allowed to go to the bathroom and then come right back up, no touching the Christmas stuff. Yep, I'm that kind of mommy, Christmas/Yule is a family affair and the entire family will enjoy it together. So, he did as he was asked (oh what a blessing that was) and came back up. About 20 minutes later MC started to stir and Grandma and Grandpa (BS's parents) called and said they were almost here. MC nursed a little bit for a more comfy wake up, especially since he was so short on sleep, and we all got up and went down for our Stockings. OC, of course was super excited. We all got into our stockings as OC practically threw them at all of us, and then I insisted on changing the baby's diaper, getting him dressed for the day, and at least taking MC potty so he didn't wet himself before any gifts were opened.
Grandma and Grandpa were wonderful this year and nearly doubled the gifts under the tree upon their arrival. This was certainly a blessing because due to limited budget OC had one gift under our tree, MC had two gifts, and the baby only had his stocking. So after Grandma and Grandpa came the baby had two gifts, MC had 3 or 4, and OC had at least 3. OC got things typical for an 8 year old, clothes, a radio headset, and an e-book reader, which was the one main gift he got from us. With his going back and forth from our house to his father's house and other excursions we make it is much easier if he can take a number of books on an e-reader than trying to take a stack of books that he likes. He also got a therapeutic chew toy so that he would stop chewing on his clothing and random items, and a therapeutic stress relief "twisty toy" for other times when he needs a distraction, as stocking stuffers. He seems to love both and I am very happy about that. He also got $40 to spend or save for himself. This is our method of teaching our kids financial responsibility. It may not be regular money (allowance style), but they do get money that they have to budget their own spending from.
MC's gifts were interesting. In choosing gifts for MC we try to be fairly cautious. Since he is still mostly non-verbal it is not like he is requesting things looking through adds, and we don't watch TV with commercials, only Netflix, so we do not get exposure that way. So, while picking toys for the children we took him through the toy aisles in the store. When he started reaching for toys, that is how we chose what to buy. MC got "Twilight Sparkle" a talking My Little Pony doll with books that she "reads" aloud, a Cabbage Patch Doll, and a potty and a new shirt for his "little baby" who is a miniature baby doll. Grandma seemed a bit surprised, and even uncomfortable with the gifts for MC but luckily she did not say anything against them. Grandpa took it all in stride. When we explained that we took him through the toy aisles to choose his gifts everyone seemed to calm a bit more about the situation. I honestly feel like sighing that such an explanation is even necessary. My opinionated 2 year old may not speak but he makes his desires known, there is no reason I should have to explain said desires. Either way Grandma was luckily thinking along gender neutral lines herself. She lucked into a perfect gift by getting our Curious George loving little one a Monkey doll and blanket, so now he has his own George. She also got him clothes and a few books, but what kid gets all excited about those? ;) He also got $6.50 to spend, or save, for himself.
As I stated above, the baby got mostly food, a stocking full of food. He also got a new outfit from Grandma and Grandpa and a cute stuffed panda from Grandma and Grandpa. I have a feeling our stuffed animal collection will continue to grow for a few years yet.
As for the mommies. I got an amazing buckwheat pillow, complete with a lavender satchet so it smells amazing. I've been talking about wanting one for YEARS and BS apparently took it to heart and bought me one. I'm so happy, I haven't even officially used it yet and I'm still just in love with the thing. I also got the final book in Christopher Paolini's Inheritance Cycle. I think I'd be more excited about that if I had any time to read. From the Grandparents I got a sweater. I'm not sure how I like the fit yet because they got it through Avon and the smell is too strong for me to wear it until it's washed. BS's mother finally made an awesome clothing purchase on her part and got her a gorgeous black form fitting sweater. It fits her wonderfully and accents all the right spots, it is very classy and very feminine and just perfect. From us BS got a fondue set and an appointment to get her ears pierced.
We may not have come home with huge hauls, but I think we had a nice Christmas. We took Grandma and Grandpa out to eat afterwards and treated them to a nice "Christmas" brunch. All in all it has been a wonderful morning, and I'm looking forward to a relaxing afternoon.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Gender Insanity
Hey, BS here,
I worry, because that's one of the major signs of childhood GID. It's possible his is all a phase, or that he's just picking up things he's observed and repeating them, but we try to shield him from my body issues, as I said. We will continue to monitor the situation, but this all feels so familiar to me. There may be child psychs in his future, but only if it becomes necessary. If he is GID and wants to transition, then we'll let him. If not, that's good too. We love him for who he is, whatever that may be.
Been kind of empty in here as of kate, and I've had thoughts stirring in my head, so here we go.
Our middle child is exhibiting signs of possibly be transgender. He has a strong preference for anything that fits a female role - toys, clothes, activities. When he is given a choice, he always picks clothes that are purple, pink, and/or frilly. This is not something he really sees from either Kooky or myself, because we tend to dress in darker colors, in jeans and t-shirts or gothic tops. In fact, most of MY shirts are t-shirts and hoodies. He has all brothers, so he's not picking this up off of hem, and he has one f cousin he sees maybe twice a year who doesn't even go for pinks or purples or frilly clothes. So there's not much chance that he's emulating something he's seen us do.
Now, we've been pretty accepting of this, and let him pick which clothes he wants to wear or which toys he wanted to play with. We figure if he is TG, then we'll deal with it down the line, and if he's not than it's just a phase. So we try not to encourage gender roles in one direction or the other.
I also try to shield him from my feelings on being born in the wrong body, whether that be by bad mouthing my penis or letting him see me tuck. However, while potty training he's realized that his maman has a penis, and momy has a vulva. I don't see a problem with this, I think it's healthy for him to realize that girls can be different. So, imagine my surprise when I'm helping him change under and he looks at me, then points at his penis and says "yuck. Yucky." I just replied and said "oh really?" That was a few weeks ago, but he's done it again at least twice with me since then.
I worry, because that's one of the major signs of childhood GID. It's possible his is all a phase, or that he's just picking up things he's observed and repeating them, but we try to shield him from my body issues, as I said. We will continue to monitor the situation, but this all feels so familiar to me. There may be child psychs in his future, but only if it becomes necessary. If he is GID and wants to transition, then we'll let him. If not, that's good too. We love him for who he is, whatever that may be.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Hiding in Plain Sight
Or when it's all just too much.
Working from home with a computer based job means I am automatically on my computer for much of the day. This is obviously understandable and sadly fairly necessary. However when you combine a sometimes slow (I don't always have active work to do but I have to be available during work hours) computer job with a multi-tasking easily addictive personality, you have a ready recipe for an internet addiction. When you further compound this with post partum hormones, a general non-social personality, general family stress, 3 kids, financial struggles, etc. it becomes all too easy to bury yourself in something like, say Facebook, and only come out when it is critically necessary.
I would say I have a fairly unique preference for in depth social interactions, but online not in person. I don't like to use the phone, I prefer text. Given the choice if I only have to think of me, not my family or the other party's preferences, I'd rather "chat" with a given person online than meet them in person. I don't do the social scene, I never really have, I'm just bad at it. I have always been a social outcast, I could always point to some external "reason" for this, but the truth is, it's just me. I suck at social interaction. Get me together with a group, even one I've been "chatting" with online for months, or even years, and I'm not about to go introduce myself to anyone, I rely on them to make the first move. I have an annoying tendency to interrupt people (this is quite accidental I assure you, I do my best to prevent it but it still happens), and also to just talk on and on about myself, because I don't know what else to talk about. I just don't know how to handle myself in a social setting, and it's not for lack of exposure. I grew up in a large family, there were always people around. I went to public school, was a member of a youth symphony, was in Orchestra, went to Church twice weekly for a total of at least 4 hours a week, went to college, and then trade school. I had all the "typical" social exposure, just the intricacies of "normal" human social interaction never made sense to me. I still to this day can't figure other people out. Again, I used to blame this on circumstances, but really looking at it, any negative circumstances I had I could have over come if I had any clue about how people work.
Strangely, when I can get over myself and talk to people I often find myself in sort of a counselor type role. This dichotomy really does not make sense to me. I don't understand people in group settings, really at all, but one on one I can read people. I can get them to talk about things they'd never normally talk about. I can get someone I barely know talking like we are old friends. I can make an old friend out of an acquaintance very quickly in one on one conversation, but when I get into a group setting I freeze. I don't know how to interject myself in a conversation, how to be part of a multi-person conversation without taking over said conversation. I just don't know how to interact with a group of people, and I really have no clue why.
Maybe this is why I can look at how busy and stressful my life is and rather than making that be an excuse to get out away from it all (with or without) my family in a social setting with a group that I do already know (from internet interactions) I find reasons that I "cannot" go. When my partner suggests that my stress is having a negative effect on me, and by extension on my whole family, and suggests therapy to either treat or prevent what she sees as developing PPD, I can come up with a dozen reasons that it's "not a good idea" or I "don't need it". The truth is both of these things would be good for both me and my family. I need someone, or someones, to talk to. I have been burying myself in my online world for far too long.
The problem is, my online world is not real, when my best friends are in Colorado and California and I need help at home with my boys because if I have to get up 6 times a night to nurse one or the other of my young children and then my 8 year old crawls into bed next to me for a nightmare, and then the nursing thing repeats itself the next night punctuated by my partner waking me up for a "snuggle" in between and all I want is to be able to take a freaking break .... I have no one I can hand the kids off to for 5 minutes and go take some "me" time. I can't swap an hour of babysitting on a day when my best friend has school and work and barely slept for an hour of babysitting on a day when I have a heavy work load and barely slept. I can't just go give my best friend a hug and know it made both of our days better. As much as I like to pretend, a virtual hug is just not the same, and certainly can't compare to 20 minutes of idle chatter over a calming cup of tea.
I realized much of this with a small falling out with one of my close internetFacebook, even to the expense of my own family. Then thinking that, I realized that even after I'm "done with work" when I no longer have to be available on my computer, I pop back in at least 3-12 times a night, if I'm not just on my computer still. In the middle of the forum mess I found myself letting my baby cry because I just "had" to get my response typed out, and realized that it was too much. I couldn't do that to my family anymore.
So I have done what I know many before me have done, and cut myself off from Facebook at least, for a while. I have made the attempt to cut myself off from all online forums that are not also local moms that could swap babysitting with me, get together and have a cup of tea, etc. And I realized, I have access to women who I could do those things with, and I have never really made the attempt to make that happen. This is my own failure, not the failure of these wonderful women, and for that I am sad. How much have I cost myself and my family in not making the attempt to give us a local social life? Whatever the answer is it is too much. And it's time to pop my bubble and get out there, because whether I feel dumb or not, I'm a grown woman and I need to provide for my family first, myself second, and my neurotices last.
Working from home with a computer based job means I am automatically on my computer for much of the day. This is obviously understandable and sadly fairly necessary. However when you combine a sometimes slow (I don't always have active work to do but I have to be available during work hours) computer job with a multi-tasking easily addictive personality, you have a ready recipe for an internet addiction. When you further compound this with post partum hormones, a general non-social personality, general family stress, 3 kids, financial struggles, etc. it becomes all too easy to bury yourself in something like, say Facebook, and only come out when it is critically necessary.
I would say I have a fairly unique preference for in depth social interactions, but online not in person. I don't like to use the phone, I prefer text. Given the choice if I only have to think of me, not my family or the other party's preferences, I'd rather "chat" with a given person online than meet them in person. I don't do the social scene, I never really have, I'm just bad at it. I have always been a social outcast, I could always point to some external "reason" for this, but the truth is, it's just me. I suck at social interaction. Get me together with a group, even one I've been "chatting" with online for months, or even years, and I'm not about to go introduce myself to anyone, I rely on them to make the first move. I have an annoying tendency to interrupt people (this is quite accidental I assure you, I do my best to prevent it but it still happens), and also to just talk on and on about myself, because I don't know what else to talk about. I just don't know how to handle myself in a social setting, and it's not for lack of exposure. I grew up in a large family, there were always people around. I went to public school, was a member of a youth symphony, was in Orchestra, went to Church twice weekly for a total of at least 4 hours a week, went to college, and then trade school. I had all the "typical" social exposure, just the intricacies of "normal" human social interaction never made sense to me. I still to this day can't figure other people out. Again, I used to blame this on circumstances, but really looking at it, any negative circumstances I had I could have over come if I had any clue about how people work.
Strangely, when I can get over myself and talk to people I often find myself in sort of a counselor type role. This dichotomy really does not make sense to me. I don't understand people in group settings, really at all, but one on one I can read people. I can get them to talk about things they'd never normally talk about. I can get someone I barely know talking like we are old friends. I can make an old friend out of an acquaintance very quickly in one on one conversation, but when I get into a group setting I freeze. I don't know how to interject myself in a conversation, how to be part of a multi-person conversation without taking over said conversation. I just don't know how to interact with a group of people, and I really have no clue why.
Maybe this is why I can look at how busy and stressful my life is and rather than making that be an excuse to get out away from it all (with or without) my family in a social setting with a group that I do already know (from internet interactions) I find reasons that I "cannot" go. When my partner suggests that my stress is having a negative effect on me, and by extension on my whole family, and suggests therapy to either treat or prevent what she sees as developing PPD, I can come up with a dozen reasons that it's "not a good idea" or I "don't need it". The truth is both of these things would be good for both me and my family. I need someone, or someones, to talk to. I have been burying myself in my online world for far too long.
The problem is, my online world is not real, when my best friends are in Colorado and California and I need help at home with my boys because if I have to get up 6 times a night to nurse one or the other of my young children and then my 8 year old crawls into bed next to me for a nightmare, and then the nursing thing repeats itself the next night punctuated by my partner waking me up for a "snuggle" in between and all I want is to be able to take a freaking break .... I have no one I can hand the kids off to for 5 minutes and go take some "me" time. I can't swap an hour of babysitting on a day when my best friend has school and work and barely slept for an hour of babysitting on a day when I have a heavy work load and barely slept. I can't just go give my best friend a hug and know it made both of our days better. As much as I like to pretend, a virtual hug is just not the same, and certainly can't compare to 20 minutes of idle chatter over a calming cup of tea.
I realized much of this with a small falling out with one of my close internetFacebook, even to the expense of my own family. Then thinking that, I realized that even after I'm "done with work" when I no longer have to be available on my computer, I pop back in at least 3-12 times a night, if I'm not just on my computer still. In the middle of the forum mess I found myself letting my baby cry because I just "had" to get my response typed out, and realized that it was too much. I couldn't do that to my family anymore.
So I have done what I know many before me have done, and cut myself off from Facebook at least, for a while. I have made the attempt to cut myself off from all online forums that are not also local moms that could swap babysitting with me, get together and have a cup of tea, etc. And I realized, I have access to women who I could do those things with, and I have never really made the attempt to make that happen. This is my own failure, not the failure of these wonderful women, and for that I am sad. How much have I cost myself and my family in not making the attempt to give us a local social life? Whatever the answer is it is too much. And it's time to pop my bubble and get out there, because whether I feel dumb or not, I'm a grown woman and I need to provide for my family first, myself second, and my neurotices last.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Changing Roles or Simply a new point of view?
Thanksgiving preparations are heavily under way here at the Kooky household. BS's parents will be joining us for Thanksgiving dinner here at our house. I LOVE Thanksgiving. It's a holiday I've always adored. Growing up a chronically hungry child (due to a super fast metabolism not lack of nutrition) in a large relatively poor family Thanksgiving was the highlight of my year. We would go to one Grandma's house for Thanksgiving lunch, I would stuff myself silly then go run around with the cousins. Fifteen minutes later I would be back to eat pie and have 2 or 3 different kinds, basically stuffing myself again. Then I would run around with the cousins again to work off more food, and we would go to my other Grandmother's house for Dinner and do it all over again. Mmmmmm fooooood.
So now, even though it's only my little family and BS's Parents, I go all out for Thanksgiving. I want to provide for myself and my children that same happy full-belly feeling that I had growing up. So, we make pies ahead of time (and try to have at least two different desert options, always including Pumpkin Pie) and we make Turkey, and Stuffing, and Salad, and Potatoes, and ... well you get the picture. Anyway, being a fairly "green " person I prefer making my Pumpkin Pie from scratch, with a fresh pumpkin cooked at home and pureed not some stuff from a can. So yesterday we pulled out the Pie Pumpkins purchased ahead of time and started trying to hack them in half.
I don't know what the deal was but I must have bought the woodiest pie pumpkins ever! Those things were bad and we don't have a good strong serrated blade here, we have some thin steak knives, and we have some quality steak knives that are only half serrated (at the tip). So we had to get creative and tough with the pumpkins. So, the first one BS and I are taking turns hacking at it and passing the baby back and forth. Finally I get freaking sick of it and we're 3/4 of the way through the pumpkin down both sides, I just opened up the top (cut out the stem) and pulled the damn pumpkin apart using sheer brute strength. The 2nd pumpkin was even worse, I literally had to saw through the shell and then cut through the flesh separately. So I spent all the time to get 3/4 of the way through that one and I was beat. BS stepped in and demanded I let her try, so I eventually did, and she ripped apart the thicker woodier pumpkin the same way.
So during this whole ordeal BS and I were arguing mostly jokingly back and forth. Her "let me do that", me "you don't have to be the man about things, you no longer have more muscle strength than I do", her "but I'm bigger", me "and" etc etc etc.
See here's the thing, at a glance this would seem to be a direct result of the transition, but the more I thought about it, it's not. Sure the stuff we were saying was a direct result of the transition, but here's a glimpse of what this same thing would have been like pre-transition. 'Him' "let me do that", me "I'm fine", 'him' "seriously let me do that", me "I got it! I'm not a wimp", 'him' "but I'm stronger", me grumblingly backing off when I get worn out.
So, when you really look at these exchanges, there's not necessarily a role change in our house. In many ways there seems to be just a new point of view and a new understanding of the dynamic between two headstrong, stubborn women, one of whom just happened to be born in a male body.
-Kooky Mommy
So now, even though it's only my little family and BS's Parents, I go all out for Thanksgiving. I want to provide for myself and my children that same happy full-belly feeling that I had growing up. So, we make pies ahead of time (and try to have at least two different desert options, always including Pumpkin Pie) and we make Turkey, and Stuffing, and Salad, and Potatoes, and ... well you get the picture. Anyway, being a fairly "green " person I prefer making my Pumpkin Pie from scratch, with a fresh pumpkin cooked at home and pureed not some stuff from a can. So yesterday we pulled out the Pie Pumpkins purchased ahead of time and started trying to hack them in half.
I don't know what the deal was but I must have bought the woodiest pie pumpkins ever! Those things were bad and we don't have a good strong serrated blade here, we have some thin steak knives, and we have some quality steak knives that are only half serrated (at the tip). So we had to get creative and tough with the pumpkins. So, the first one BS and I are taking turns hacking at it and passing the baby back and forth. Finally I get freaking sick of it and we're 3/4 of the way through the pumpkin down both sides, I just opened up the top (cut out the stem) and pulled the damn pumpkin apart using sheer brute strength. The 2nd pumpkin was even worse, I literally had to saw through the shell and then cut through the flesh separately. So I spent all the time to get 3/4 of the way through that one and I was beat. BS stepped in and demanded I let her try, so I eventually did, and she ripped apart the thicker woodier pumpkin the same way.
So during this whole ordeal BS and I were arguing mostly jokingly back and forth. Her "let me do that", me "you don't have to be the man about things, you no longer have more muscle strength than I do", her "but I'm bigger", me "and" etc etc etc.
See here's the thing, at a glance this would seem to be a direct result of the transition, but the more I thought about it, it's not. Sure the stuff we were saying was a direct result of the transition, but here's a glimpse of what this same thing would have been like pre-transition. 'Him' "let me do that", me "I'm fine", 'him' "seriously let me do that", me "I got it! I'm not a wimp", 'him' "but I'm stronger", me grumblingly backing off when I get worn out.
So, when you really look at these exchanges, there's not necessarily a role change in our house. In many ways there seems to be just a new point of view and a new understanding of the dynamic between two headstrong, stubborn women, one of whom just happened to be born in a male body.
-Kooky Mommy
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
How I Knew I Was Trans
When you ask a trans person when they knew, you can get a variety of answers. Many have had similar experiences, but we're individuals (just like everyone else :P). For me, I guess I always knew, but there was a moment during puberty when I KNEW beyond anything else that one day I would walk this path.
See, as I've stated before, I was never exactly "masculine" even in my public persona. Even as a child my closest friends were girls, I never liked getting down and dirty in the mud. I played house, had stuffed animals and a toy kitchen for it too. In the third grade, I got a reputation as a "gay" because some of the sixth-graders caught me and a guy I was friends with fooling around in the woods (kid stuff, nothing wrong). I knew I wasn't a boy, but it didn't matter then, I was too young for gender to truly have much effect on my. Then, puberty hit around the age of 10...
Around the same time, I happened to discover that transitioning genders and SRS surgery was a real possibility. I devoured any information on it that came my way, and even with what little I had to go on, I KNEW that one day I would find a way to transition and be the woman I was on the inside. Problem was, I was too afraid to come out.
My parents were unavailable, they were both massive potheads AND my father was an alcoholic. As far as they knew, I was a boy and they encouraged every stereotype under the sun. If it were just that, maybe I would have come forward then. But my favorite uncle was an extreme homophobe (and to this day he has yet to speak to me voluntarily since my transition). So I suffered through it, buried my true self beneath a false exterior. But I still wasn't a very convincing guy, all through my teenage years...
I had no self esteem, I hated the changes my body was going through, and then the severe acne reared its ugly head. Too depressed and socially withdrawn to date locally, I became an internet junkie and dated online. Still, even those weren't normal relationships. All of my girlfriends have been bi, bi-curious, or turned les later in life. I attracted only women who were attracted to other women on an emotional level. I traveled the country, and even to Europe, to meet and be with some of these girls. Then, I fell for my best friend, we'll call him C.
We had both dated British sisters. We were in the same online gaming group. We had the same interests, and to top it off he was a cute bi guy. We fell hard, and we had fun for a while, but we eventually agreed to split up because neither of us was ready to come out at that time. I later ended up moving nearer to him, and we worked together and hung out constantly. We both had local girlfriends (for a change), and we both ended up cheating on our girlfriends with each other.
We talked, I told him that I wished I had been born in a girls body. See, I spent years joking with my friends that I was a "lesbian trapped in a man's body". Only I wasn't joking. He didn't have a problem with this, but we still agreed that it might be best if I moved home so that the temptation didn't cause him to leave his fiancee. So, I broke up with my crazy (now lesbian) girlfriend and came home.
I went back into the closet, decided that I was too ugly, too tall, too whatever to really transition. I wasted another five years, except they weren't all bad. I met and fell for KM and her son (then 2). She left her abusive husband for me, and we ran away together. We bought a house in a nice neighborhood. We had our kids.
Then I came out, as I've stated before. I could have done so years ago, but if I had I wouldn't be where I am now, and I am very happy to have what I have now.
Wouldn't trade it for the world. :)
Coming Out at Work
Last time I posted, I talked about coming out to my parents, and that was hard. Surprisingly enough, the thing I thought would be harder was actually easier: coming out at work.
Background, I work in the service industry as the assistant manager of a store. I was seen as a "Problem Solver", and therefore I was moved around stores a lot. There was a General Manager who ran a store that had several FtMs and MtFs in the past, and I had always wanted to work with her because then I'd feel more safe coming out.
So shortly after coming out to my family, I get randomly transferred to her store. Sensing massive opportunity, I first drop the bomb on our District Manager, who takes it quite well (she had a trans roomie in college), and she informs our owner. They work it out and offer their support, so I then came out to my GM and explained everything that was going on. We then informed/educated the rest of our management team, and we then did the same for each employee individually, while our DM took care of managers in the other stores.
I was lucky, though I feel any forward progress I could have made in the company is now stalled by what I am. But that's not such a huge deal, as I only work this job to pay the bills. I realize how lucky and how easy I've had it compared to other trans people. Everyone has been so accepting and wonderful about it, even if they sometimes have issues with pronouns (I had been there a month before coming out, so they knew me as a guy).
I came out at work really early in my transition, but I had good reasons. I always looked very androgynous. Even years ago, without facial hair I would sometimes get confused for a woman. By the time I came to this store, I was a 2 months on hormones and I didn't look andro anymore, I looked fem. It got to the point where guys would walk into the Men's Room while I was in there and freak out because there was a girl in there. When I wasn't working (and therefore in full fem mode), women didn't even blink when I went into the Women's Room. I was passing accidentally. It was problematic.
Fast forward 6 months, I'm full time in all aspects of my life. I go to stores I was at previously, everyone I knew from before is wonderful to me about my transition. I use the Women's Room at work proudly and without incident. The newer employees don't even know that I was a male, they accept me absolutely. It makes me happy, and I realize how extremely lucky I am as a trans woman. People comment on my height sometimes, but no one calls me out or brings it up. It's as if I've always been this way, and some of my friends from previous stores have told me in private that they weren't surprised and always kind of suspected, but that's fodder for another post...
Re-thinking Roles
Sometimes the changes that really personally affect the partner of a transgendered (transsexual) person aren't ones that anyone would think of. They're the things that no one would consider asking when finding out that your husband is becoming your wife and so suddenly you're "lesbian" (nope, still bi thank you). Silly things like, will she borrow your clothes? (Absolutely, though my pants wear like capris since she is 11 inches taller than I) Can you share shoes? (Nope, her shoe size is nearly double mine, sadly) What will the kids call her? (we chose a different language variation on mom, as always I'm mommy) Or .... wait ... what does this mean for my dream of being a Stay At Home mom?? Each and every one of these questions has given me pause. Every one has been on my mind much more than the big questions like what happens in the bedroom? (It's still quite nice thank you) How will you afford transition? (I happen to have great insurance that will cover her) Will you still be attracted to her? (Of COURSE attraction to me is 90% personality) But the one that is on my mind right now is the last of the "minor" questions I posed above.
What the heck does this mean for my dream of becoming a Stay At Home Mom? See, this is a multi-leveled issue here. Before, I was mom, I was the mom, and it makes more sense for mom to be the one with the kids day in and day out than dad. But that's just it, I'm no longer the mom, I'm now a mom, one of two. Sure I'm the one who bore the children (only because I'm the one who has the physical capacity), I'm the one who breast fed/breast feeds the children (only because birth automatically stimulates that and she'd have to use artificial means to stimulate it) but that doesn't make me any more of a mom than she is. And so there is no longer a logical argument there that I should be the Stay at Home parent and she should not.
To add to this frustration, I make the better income. I carry the awesome insurance for the family. My job has the higher possibility of not only a raise but a promotion. My job has better vacation and holiday plans. My job is "better" all around. Except for the fact that I really don't want to be working, I want to be home with my kids. I work from home, but that isn't exactly better, all it does is mean that I'm at home, ignoring my kids, rather than at work not being around them. BS works too right now. I work days, she works nights. This is how it has to be right now while we dig out of pits built up through prior life issues. But once we can get out of those pits, once our finances are above water, the goal is for someone to be home with the kids ... and I just realized that that someone likely will not be me.
I never expected to be a working mother. I have no clue how my parents did it but my mother never worked when kids were home. She only worked when we were at school, and only during school hours, very part time. My parents had 8 children, and somehow they managed this. But we practically never saw my father. So, I went into adulthood and even parenthood a bit naive. I expected to be able to stay home with my kids. I expected to be able to purchase and own a home and still stay home with my kids. I didn't expect to have a lot, I'm not that naive, but I expected to be able to get by. Unfortunately that is not the reality of our situation, and we both have to work right now. But some day, some day when we get our finances fixed, hopefully after BS's transition is finalized in a couple years, one of us will be able to stay home with our kids. This is my ultimate goal now, even if that one isn't me. Because in the long run what is important to me is that my children have a mom home to love them and raise them. That they are not raised by random teachers who change every year and simply can't care for them the way a parent can.
So, in support of the lovely woman in my life, and with the needs of my children in mind, I have revised my whole outlook on life yet again. I will continue to work. I will not do the bare minimum but I will endeavor to thrive in my work place. I will make a career out of what until now I considered a job. I will move up, I will get to the highest position that is possible for me with my skills, my abilities, and my family life. And I will make it work so that my family can have more. More time, more love, and more of each other. This is the thing I can do for my family, to ensure that my children grow up to be the best people they can be and so this is what I will do, for all of us.
Wish me well, as I never wanted to be a working mom and now I am setting out to make it my life's work. I will ensure that my family has all they need. I will be the breadwinner. I ... swear I'm more a man than she ever was. ;)
What the heck does this mean for my dream of becoming a Stay At Home Mom? See, this is a multi-leveled issue here. Before, I was mom, I was the mom, and it makes more sense for mom to be the one with the kids day in and day out than dad. But that's just it, I'm no longer the mom, I'm now a mom, one of two. Sure I'm the one who bore the children (only because I'm the one who has the physical capacity), I'm the one who breast fed/breast feeds the children (only because birth automatically stimulates that and she'd have to use artificial means to stimulate it) but that doesn't make me any more of a mom than she is. And so there is no longer a logical argument there that I should be the Stay at Home parent and she should not.
To add to this frustration, I make the better income. I carry the awesome insurance for the family. My job has the higher possibility of not only a raise but a promotion. My job has better vacation and holiday plans. My job is "better" all around. Except for the fact that I really don't want to be working, I want to be home with my kids. I work from home, but that isn't exactly better, all it does is mean that I'm at home, ignoring my kids, rather than at work not being around them. BS works too right now. I work days, she works nights. This is how it has to be right now while we dig out of pits built up through prior life issues. But once we can get out of those pits, once our finances are above water, the goal is for someone to be home with the kids ... and I just realized that that someone likely will not be me.
I never expected to be a working mother. I have no clue how my parents did it but my mother never worked when kids were home. She only worked when we were at school, and only during school hours, very part time. My parents had 8 children, and somehow they managed this. But we practically never saw my father. So, I went into adulthood and even parenthood a bit naive. I expected to be able to stay home with my kids. I expected to be able to purchase and own a home and still stay home with my kids. I didn't expect to have a lot, I'm not that naive, but I expected to be able to get by. Unfortunately that is not the reality of our situation, and we both have to work right now. But some day, some day when we get our finances fixed, hopefully after BS's transition is finalized in a couple years, one of us will be able to stay home with our kids. This is my ultimate goal now, even if that one isn't me. Because in the long run what is important to me is that my children have a mom home to love them and raise them. That they are not raised by random teachers who change every year and simply can't care for them the way a parent can.
So, in support of the lovely woman in my life, and with the needs of my children in mind, I have revised my whole outlook on life yet again. I will continue to work. I will not do the bare minimum but I will endeavor to thrive in my work place. I will make a career out of what until now I considered a job. I will move up, I will get to the highest position that is possible for me with my skills, my abilities, and my family life. And I will make it work so that my family can have more. More time, more love, and more of each other. This is the thing I can do for my family, to ensure that my children grow up to be the best people they can be and so this is what I will do, for all of us.
Wish me well, as I never wanted to be a working mom and now I am setting out to make it my life's work. I will ensure that my family has all they need. I will be the breadwinner. I ... swear I'm more a man than she ever was. ;)
Friday, November 11, 2011
A day of Nothing ...
I think if my oldest son (here to fore known as OC) could look back on today from the eyes of anyone over the age of 16 that's what he would see, a day of nothing (luckily today was a learning holiday anyway). He is responsible for picking up toys before bed, not an unrealistic thing to expect of an 8 year old I'm told. Well, people should tell that to my son, not me. ;)
Here's what went down. He didn't get the toys picked up last night, so okay, the consequence for this is simply that the first thing he does in the morning is picking up those toys. So we got up this morning at 8am, come downstairs and I start in to work on my PC. The toddler (MC) was fairly needy due to a really late night last night so the TV went on to enable me to get my work done. Not ideal but it is what it is. I told OC to clean up. 9am rolls around, MC and I sit down to breakfast while the baby (YC) naps, for once not in my arms. I promptly sit in a puddle. It was OC's responsibility to check and clean the chairs the night before, apparently despite telling me it was done he hadn't done it. So ... I hate cold, and I hate wet I can't identify. So OC got chewed out royally, which woke Burnt Sienna (I'll call her BS, I like that, she may not, oh well). Not the way I'd want to wake up, wasn't the way she wanted to wake up. I ran around the house looking for clean underwear and pants (3 kids, working opposite shifts, folding and putting away clothes is NOT high on my priority list). Got that done and went to give BS a hug and a kiss to wake up to, more pleasant than the yelling at least.
Anyway, moving on. OC continued to not clean up, by 10am I told him he could eat since we needed to leave at 10:30ish for a therapy appointment. We maintain therapy for him because yes, our lifestyles are very alternative and we feel he needs that outside support and venting system. Anyway. He gets food, emptying the cereal box and throwing both box and empty bag separately on the floor (this is not noticed until later). He eats maybe 1/4 of his bowl of food and leaves it on the table to use the restroom. Time to go arrives. I pack up myself and YC because he is nursing and it's easiest to take him along with me rather than leaving him behind. We wait for OC to be done in the restroom, and I remind him to take care of his cereal and the milk. He gets ready and we leave.
Therapy goes well, we are given suggestions for helping to prompt him to use his words. We come home and are informed that the milk and cereal were still on the table and MC decided he was going to eat them. Luckily he didn't make a massive mess with this attempt. OC is informed that he must get back to picking up the toys that still are not done. At this point it is 30 minutes past noon and lunch is almost ready. When it is we all eat. Then OC is asked to continue with toys.
4 pm rolls around and Toys STILL are not picked up. We begin to inform him of the enormity of this issue, considering he has now wasted 90% of his day, he refuses to listen and is sent to the corner for 15 minutes (HIS consequence that HE chose to try for a week). He has a complete and total melt down, kicking and screaming and crying. He is asked to remain in his corner to keep everyone, including himself, safe during this situation. This cycle simply repeats itself for an hour and a half of fits and not listening. BS has to leave for work and OC is told to clean again. Dinner is done preparing. OC is told to either eat or clean, which results in another fit (seriously wow) corner again until he stops ... and we end up in a fit/discussion cycle for 30 minutes. Meanwhile I finish eating, MC finishes eating, and I manage half of the clean up post dinner.
It is now 6:30pm, OC has finally finished eating and is still working on LAST NIGHT'S toys. It is about time that they get packed up and taken away again. If there's too much to pick up, then there's too much available. Joy.
Here's what went down. He didn't get the toys picked up last night, so okay, the consequence for this is simply that the first thing he does in the morning is picking up those toys. So we got up this morning at 8am, come downstairs and I start in to work on my PC. The toddler (MC) was fairly needy due to a really late night last night so the TV went on to enable me to get my work done. Not ideal but it is what it is. I told OC to clean up. 9am rolls around, MC and I sit down to breakfast while the baby (YC) naps, for once not in my arms. I promptly sit in a puddle. It was OC's responsibility to check and clean the chairs the night before, apparently despite telling me it was done he hadn't done it. So ... I hate cold, and I hate wet I can't identify. So OC got chewed out royally, which woke Burnt Sienna (I'll call her BS, I like that, she may not, oh well). Not the way I'd want to wake up, wasn't the way she wanted to wake up. I ran around the house looking for clean underwear and pants (3 kids, working opposite shifts, folding and putting away clothes is NOT high on my priority list). Got that done and went to give BS a hug and a kiss to wake up to, more pleasant than the yelling at least.
Anyway, moving on. OC continued to not clean up, by 10am I told him he could eat since we needed to leave at 10:30ish for a therapy appointment. We maintain therapy for him because yes, our lifestyles are very alternative and we feel he needs that outside support and venting system. Anyway. He gets food, emptying the cereal box and throwing both box and empty bag separately on the floor (this is not noticed until later). He eats maybe 1/4 of his bowl of food and leaves it on the table to use the restroom. Time to go arrives. I pack up myself and YC because he is nursing and it's easiest to take him along with me rather than leaving him behind. We wait for OC to be done in the restroom, and I remind him to take care of his cereal and the milk. He gets ready and we leave.
Therapy goes well, we are given suggestions for helping to prompt him to use his words. We come home and are informed that the milk and cereal were still on the table and MC decided he was going to eat them. Luckily he didn't make a massive mess with this attempt. OC is informed that he must get back to picking up the toys that still are not done. At this point it is 30 minutes past noon and lunch is almost ready. When it is we all eat. Then OC is asked to continue with toys.
4 pm rolls around and Toys STILL are not picked up. We begin to inform him of the enormity of this issue, considering he has now wasted 90% of his day, he refuses to listen and is sent to the corner for 15 minutes (HIS consequence that HE chose to try for a week). He has a complete and total melt down, kicking and screaming and crying. He is asked to remain in his corner to keep everyone, including himself, safe during this situation. This cycle simply repeats itself for an hour and a half of fits and not listening. BS has to leave for work and OC is told to clean again. Dinner is done preparing. OC is told to either eat or clean, which results in another fit (seriously wow) corner again until he stops ... and we end up in a fit/discussion cycle for 30 minutes. Meanwhile I finish eating, MC finishes eating, and I manage half of the clean up post dinner.
It is now 6:30pm, OC has finally finished eating and is still working on LAST NIGHT'S toys. It is about time that they get packed up and taken away again. If there's too much to pick up, then there's too much available. Joy.
When I Came Out
Burnt Sienna here. I'm the bisexual, Male-to-Female transgender half of this couple. I'd like to share a bit of reminiscence about when I came out as trans.
It was a Sunday back in August of last year. Kooky and the kids had walked to the local farmer's market before I woke up that morning, so when I got up I had an empty house. Which meant that I could do whatever I wanted, which was usually to raid Kooky's closet and wear her clothes around the house. So this particular morning I did as I usually did, and got dressed in something more comfortable.
Okay, so random aside: I'd been wanting to transition for ages, but never felt I could actually do it. "I'm too tall," I'd tell myself, or "I wouldn't look good as a female". In fact, I'd known that transition was possible since I was 10, and I wanted to do it sooooo badly even then. But instead I sucked it up, and went through my teenage years and early twenties trying to be the man that I so obviously wasn't.
So this day, I looked in a mirror while dressed in my wife's clothes. And I saw it. See, I had recently forgone the literal "beard" that I hid behind. Just as gay guys have fake girlfriends, or "beards", to hide behind, I too had a beard of my very own: a goatee. But what I saw, was not an awkward guy dressed in women's clothes, but a chick. A girl. Not pretty, not yet. But it was there. I broke.
So I did what any sane person shouldn't do in that situation: I pulled out my phone and told my wife right then by text message. I mean, who does that?!? She took it... well? She was shocked, but she had playfully teased me for years about how much more feminine I was than her. Like I said, I obviously wasn't a guy. So she came home from the farmer's market, and we talked. And we researched together, and we went through so many labels before we settled, eventually, on the one my therapists confirmed: I was a Male-to-Female transsexual.
Now, Kooky's been sooo accepting and wonderful, but my parents.... not so much. So I started therapy, I started living as a woman, first at home, then out in public but not at work. I had just started hormones, so it was time to tell... the parents! So I called them up and asked if I could come over alone and talk to them about something. See, I learned my lesson regarding shocking news via telephone.
So I came over. I had already told my favorite aunt, she and my uncle raised me more than my parents had. I didn't want them finding out from her that their only child was transgender. So i sat them doown for the talk. I explained everything, they sat and listened, they seemed shocked, they asked questions, and at the end we all agreed that this wasn't their choice or their fault and we were okay.
Or so I thought. First my parents wouldn't try to use proper pronouns or my new name, which is understandable to an extent that they might forget, but they weren't trying. My dad became very cold with me, and I overheard my mom telling my aunt that he was only keeping contact for the grandkids. Then he sent me a drunken text one night telling me about how lesbian love isn't real, and it's a crime against God.
I laughed. I didn't cut off contact, I didn't bitch them out. I gave them space, and time. My dad came over to see the kids and saw our family dynamic, saw the kids with me, saw Kooky with me, saw how much happier and open I was. He quit drinking cold turkey, he came around. He used my name, female pronouns - when he remembers. So now, I find out the bigger issue: my mother hates it. She puts on a face when she's dealing with it, but news from the family reaches my ears.
See, my mother is extremely passive-aggressive, so she was using my birth name as a weapon, the pronoun "he" was a bomb to be launched. And she won't budge, so we've made less room in our lives for her because of it. My therapist agrees, and pointed out that our children don't need to be exposed to her behavior. My dad gets invited over alone now under guise of helping his daughter and daughter-in-law handle the home repairs. He's really sweet now that he's dry.
More to come...
A Little Back Story
Kooky Mommy here, for anyone who chooses to follow this blog in order to understand much of what goes on here you'll need a little back story. So here's the deal, I am bisexual poly dreaming mommy to three boys one older one from a prior relationship and two littles. My current partner and I have been together for over 5 years and married for over 2. About a year ago "he" told me that he is not really a "he", "he is a "she". My partner is a male to female transexual. "He" began transition immediately and we have been continuing our life together through this interesting development in our relationship. There may be posts from either of us in the future elaborating on past events but for now this is the basics of our past. As for our future ... there is no limit, we have dreams and then of course life always throws its curveballs at you. It will be what it is and hopefully we'll be able to swing along with the punches. So far I think we've done pretty well. :D
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