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

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.  ;)

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.

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