Gayby Boom

03/08/10

Not By the Hairs on My Chinny Chin-Chin

Teenagers are breathtakingly honest when it comes to their appraisal of your shortcomings as a parent, as a human, as a participant on the planet. This starts right about eleven, when girls are suddenly getting periods before breasts have put in an appearance and boys are surrounded by silverback apes in the changing room when they should all be trading Pokemon cards.So perhaps it is understandable that when I commented on our teenager’s peach fuzz a few years back, “Your mustache is coming along nicely,” he answered, “So is yours.”That would be around the time I tried every waxing technique available and invested in an electric razor. Damn him.They don’t hold back. If they don’t like your new shirt, the lip curls, your new car,...

Posted at 06:12 PM | Permalink | Comments: 0

03/02/10

Round the Clock with Caffeine

My mother tells me she was never tired until she was 35, that she had lots of energy and could go, go, go. And, considering she had two small businesses, two teenage daughters and my deadbeat dad split when she was thirty-five, would explain the shift. What I don’t get is how she wasn’t exhausted before. I’m thinking it was all that coffee.I mean, the two biggest things that hit you after having kids is that you’re dumber than you thought you were (and will continue to degrade intellectually until your children are about 26), and you had tons of time and energy before having them.Which is when adequate sleeps goes out the window, and caffeine comes in the door.They should just write us a prescription for speed in the maternity unit or upon adopting, because we...

Posted at 04:44 PM | Permalink | Comments: 0

02/22/10

The World According to Lego

My wife and I hadn’t realized that Lego were de rigueur before having a little boy. We’d been under the mistaken impression that Lego were optional. That it was an acceptable option to have our floor not become a landmine field of sharp objects awaiting our unsuspecting bare feet. That taking an hour to retrieve tiny arms, Han Solo’s hairpiece and the Goblet of Fire before being able to vacuum was something we could avoid.We were mistaken.Lego arrived long before our first son was able to make use of them. He was what the pediatrician called “orally fixated” and didn’t stop putting strange things in his mouth until roughly seventeen, so we didn’t dare release him on Legos until his trachea was wider than a Lego human head and he was at least...

Posted at 03:49 PM | Permalink | Comments: 0

02/16/10

The Many Uses of a Minivan

Desperation can be an excellent motivation for creativity, adaptation, and using things in an off-label manner (think Benadryl).Our minivan is another example. It’s a typical eight-seater with the most space for stuff our modest budget could buy back in 2003, when it became our first “new” vehicle ever and replaced a white Jeep Wagoneer I loved to drive (it made me feel macha, adamantine and bullet-proof) but couldn’t pass the DEQ exhaust test to save its life.So our destiny as minivan mamas was sealed.My wife test-drove it, even though we all knew I’d be the one ferrying folks around town and hauling groceries home from Costco. Salesmen make me nervous, and driving a strange car while struggling with anxiety is not my idea of a good time. But I went along...

Posted at 01:18 PM | Permalink | Comments: 0

02/10/10

Love is the Sweetest Thing

Love is in the air, or so the people who sell products based on February 14th would have us believe. That cupid and his puny arrow will strike if you supply enough chocolate, nasty underwear, diamonds, candy hearts or folded sheets of cardstock with “Be Mine” italicized in Arial script. Valentine’s Day has never seemed like a big deal to me. I got my first period on Valentine’s Day. The association stuck, despite thirty-two years to just get over it.Love, however, is a big deal to me in whatever form: familial, romantic, maternal, gastronomic, you name it.Love for a baby is a tsunami of emotion, mowing down everything in its path. The smell of your baby hits you like a ton of pheromonal bricks, making you willing to lose sleep with a smile, breast feed with...

Posted at 04:22 PM | Permalink | Comments: 0

02/03/10

Kids and Pets

We’ve had a lot of pets, and they’re my doing. There would be no animals here if my wife was on her own; she couldn’t take care of them—she can’t suck algae water to save her life or pick up poop if she was paid for it; even remembering food and water would be a stretch.But she hooked up with Dr. Dolittle. So we have pets. I think they’re good for kids.My spouse expected it. I’d worked in a pet store during high school; a job most teens would dump after two months because it wasn’t worth the minimum wage, but I cleaned cages for three years. I was totally more willing to stick my head into a cage full of flying, screeching, defecating budgerigars than work food service.But my pet shop experience has given our kids an unfortunate out when...

Posted at 05:23 PM | Permalink | Comments: 0

01/25/10

Birthday Season

We have no one to blame but ourselves. We knew what we were doing. And we were smart enough to do the math. We just weren’t optimistic that things were going to work out first time, twice. Even heterosexuals working with the freshest materials take six months on average to conceive. And by the third kid, any birthday would do, as long as there was a birth to celebrate.Lesbians have options when it comes to planning the birthday calendar, when insemination is involved. You can try for the astrological signs you’d most like to live with for the next eighteen years, though Mother Nature and reproductive technology can interfere with the best laid plans, and maybe a Scorpio will turn out to be just what you needed in some kind of Karmic destiny.I should just be happy we...

Posted at 05:54 PM | Permalink | Comments: 0

01/19/10

Preferred Provider or Dogmeat Mom?

The good thing about having a two-mom family is that you have someone to share the load, the love and the litany of requests that your offspring pelt you with everyday.The bad thing is that chances are, one of you will end up the Dog Meat Mom (also known as the Chopped Liver Mom), and one of you the Mom of Choice (also known as the Preferred Provider). Especially if one of you breastfeeds or stays home with the kids, and the other works full-time. The bummer for the Dog Meat Mom is how often biology seems to blame for the role. Often, early on, she is the Non-Bio Mom or Stud-Mother, especially if there is breastfeeding involved. I mean, who wouldn’t prefer breast to bottle, even if you have to cry your lungs out to get your way, your Bio-Mom doesn’t...

Posted at 12:51 PM | Permalink | Comments: 0

01/11/10

Social Studies

Anthropologists and social historians of the future are going to know a lot about our era, even if they can’t figure out the traces of Twitter, Facebook, email and cell phones left behind, when technology has advanced so far they’ve become electronic dinosaurs and extinct.Thanks in good part to the self-help book.I’m a big believer in the literal page. In holding a book between my hands when I lie in bed or soak in a tub with water so hot my skin turns red and the walls sweat. I have faith that ebooks won’t take away their unique place in the human scheme, and that self-help books, ubiquitous ever since The Peter Principle and What Color is My Parachute?, will continue as long as human beings give a damn.Especially self-help books for parents, who are sure they...

Posted at 06:34 PM | Permalink | Comments: 0

01/04/10

Getting Disgusting at the Table

Frankly, one of the things I was thinking of least when considering our compatibility as co-parents, was my wife and my level of tolerance for grossness or rude behavior. Yes, there were the obvious disgusting parts: who will be changing the diapers and will they retch every time they do so? Do either parties sneer at spit up, have difficulty with blood, or blanch at mucus? But beyond this my mind did not venture. And I didn’t even think about getting used to the word “fart.”Actually, we were both pretty weak in the stomach when we were starting out; my spouse has always admitted a hair-trigger gag reflex and I was easy prey to my sadistic older sister who could reduce me to a nauseated masse with a few well chosen words on bodily fluids. But when we got down to brass...

Posted at 04:43 PM | Permalink | Comments: 0

	03/08/10 Not By the Hairs on My Chinny Chin-Chin Teenagers are breathtakingly honest when it comes to their appraisal of your shortcomings as a parent, as a human, as a participant on the planet. This starts right about eleven, when girls are suddenly getting periods before breasts have put in an appearance and boys are surrounded by silverback apes in the changing room when they should all be trading Pokemon cards.So perhaps it is understandable that when I commented on our teenager’s peach fuzz a few years back, “Your mustache is coming along nicely,” he answered, “So is yours.”That would be around the time I tried every waxing technique available and invested in an electric razor. Damn him.They don’t hold back. If they don’t like your new shirt, the lip curls, your new car,... Posted at 06:12 PM \| Permalink \| Comments: 0
	03/02/10 Round the Clock with Caffeine My mother tells me she was never tired until she was 35, that she had lots of energy and could go, go, go. And, considering she had two small businesses, two teenage daughters and my deadbeat dad split when she was thirty-five, would explain the shift. What I don’t get is how she wasn’t exhausted before. I’m thinking it was all that coffee.I mean, the two biggest things that hit you after having kids is that you’re dumber than you thought you were (and will continue to degrade intellectually until your children are about 26), and you had tons of time and energy before having them.Which is when adequate sleeps goes out the window, and caffeine comes in the door.They should just write us a prescription for speed in the maternity unit or upon adopting, because we... Posted at 04:44 PM \| Permalink \| Comments: 0
	02/22/10 The World According to Lego My wife and I hadn’t realized that Lego were de rigueur before having a little boy. We’d been under the mistaken impression that Lego were optional. That it was an acceptable option to have our floor not become a landmine field of sharp objects awaiting our unsuspecting bare feet. That taking an hour to retrieve tiny arms, Han Solo’s hairpiece and the Goblet of Fire before being able to vacuum was something we could avoid.We were mistaken.Lego arrived long before our first son was able to make use of them. He was what the pediatrician called “orally fixated” and didn’t stop putting strange things in his mouth until roughly seventeen, so we didn’t dare release him on Legos until his trachea was wider than a Lego human head and he was at least... Posted at 03:49 PM \| Permalink \| Comments: 0
	02/16/10 The Many Uses of a Minivan Desperation can be an excellent motivation for creativity, adaptation, and using things in an off-label manner (think Benadryl).Our minivan is another example. It’s a typical eight-seater with the most space for stuff our modest budget could buy back in 2003, when it became our first “new” vehicle ever and replaced a white Jeep Wagoneer I loved to drive (it made me feel macha, adamantine and bullet-proof) but couldn’t pass the DEQ exhaust test to save its life.So our destiny as minivan mamas was sealed.My wife test-drove it, even though we all knew I’d be the one ferrying folks around town and hauling groceries home from Costco. Salesmen make me nervous, and driving a strange car while struggling with anxiety is not my idea of a good time. But I went along... Posted at 01:18 PM \| Permalink \| Comments: 0
	02/10/10 Love is the Sweetest Thing Love is in the air, or so the people who sell products based on February 14th would have us believe. That cupid and his puny arrow will strike if you supply enough chocolate, nasty underwear, diamonds, candy hearts or folded sheets of cardstock with “Be Mine” italicized in Arial script. Valentine’s Day has never seemed like a big deal to me. I got my first period on Valentine’s Day. The association stuck, despite thirty-two years to just get over it.Love, however, is a big deal to me in whatever form: familial, romantic, maternal, gastronomic, you name it.Love for a baby is a tsunami of emotion, mowing down everything in its path. The smell of your baby hits you like a ton of pheromonal bricks, making you willing to lose sleep with a smile, breast feed with... Posted at 04:22 PM \| Permalink \| Comments: 0
	02/03/10 Kids and Pets We’ve had a lot of pets, and they’re my doing. There would be no animals here if my wife was on her own; she couldn’t take care of them—she can’t suck algae water to save her life or pick up poop if she was paid for it; even remembering food and water would be a stretch.But she hooked up with Dr. Dolittle. So we have pets. I think they’re good for kids.My spouse expected it. I’d worked in a pet store during high school; a job most teens would dump after two months because it wasn’t worth the minimum wage, but I cleaned cages for three years. I was totally more willing to stick my head into a cage full of flying, screeching, defecating budgerigars than work food service.But my pet shop experience has given our kids an unfortunate out when... Posted at 05:23 PM \| Permalink \| Comments: 0
	01/25/10 Birthday Season We have no one to blame but ourselves. We knew what we were doing. And we were smart enough to do the math. We just weren’t optimistic that things were going to work out first time, twice. Even heterosexuals working with the freshest materials take six months on average to conceive. And by the third kid, any birthday would do, as long as there was a birth to celebrate.Lesbians have options when it comes to planning the birthday calendar, when insemination is involved. You can try for the astrological signs you’d most like to live with for the next eighteen years, though Mother Nature and reproductive technology can interfere with the best laid plans, and maybe a Scorpio will turn out to be just what you needed in some kind of Karmic destiny.I should just be happy we... Posted at 05:54 PM \| Permalink \| Comments: 0
	01/19/10 Preferred Provider or Dogmeat Mom? The good thing about having a two-mom family is that you have someone to share the load, the love and the litany of requests that your offspring pelt you with everyday.The bad thing is that chances are, one of you will end up the Dog Meat Mom (also known as the Chopped Liver Mom), and one of you the Mom of Choice (also known as the Preferred Provider). Especially if one of you breastfeeds or stays home with the kids, and the other works full-time. The bummer for the Dog Meat Mom is how often biology seems to blame for the role. Often, early on, she is the Non-Bio Mom or Stud-Mother, especially if there is breastfeeding involved. I mean, who wouldn’t prefer breast to bottle, even if you have to cry your lungs out to get your way, your Bio-Mom doesn’t... Posted at 12:51 PM \| Permalink \| Comments: 0
	01/11/10 Social Studies Anthropologists and social historians of the future are going to know a lot about our era, even if they can’t figure out the traces of Twitter, Facebook, email and cell phones left behind, when technology has advanced so far they’ve become electronic dinosaurs and extinct.Thanks in good part to the self-help book.I’m a big believer in the literal page. In holding a book between my hands when I lie in bed or soak in a tub with water so hot my skin turns red and the walls sweat. I have faith that ebooks won’t take away their unique place in the human scheme, and that self-help books, ubiquitous ever since The Peter Principle and What Color is My Parachute?, will continue as long as human beings give a damn.Especially self-help books for parents, who are sure they... Posted at 06:34 PM \| Permalink \| Comments: 0
	01/04/10 Getting Disgusting at the Table Frankly, one of the things I was thinking of least when considering our compatibility as co-parents, was my wife and my level of tolerance for grossness or rude behavior. Yes, there were the obvious disgusting parts: who will be changing the diapers and will they retch every time they do so? Do either parties sneer at spit up, have difficulty with blood, or blanch at mucus? But beyond this my mind did not venture. And I didn’t even think about getting used to the word “fart.”Actually, we were both pretty weak in the stomach when we were starting out; my spouse has always admitted a hair-trigger gag reflex and I was easy prey to my sadistic older sister who could reduce me to a nauseated masse with a few well chosen words on bodily fluids. But when we got down to brass... Posted at 04:43 PM \| Permalink \| Comments: 0

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