Family Day

LDFDC LOGO 2006 copy(1)

Today we decided to do family things. As a family. All five of us.

We weren’t able to spend Thanksgiving together this year, and though our separate celebrations were pleasant enough, it felt strange and a little sad to be apart. We won’t be doing that again. There comes a time for all of us, if we’re lucky enough, to be able to create our own primary family unit, and for my own well-being, I think the focus has to be on us first.  I think we’re all in agreement here. So we’ll have to hatch a plan for Christmas.

This morning we all got up slowly, then we toddled over to Fran’s for a late breakfast, and then took in Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs in 3d. The girls have never seen a 3d movie, and they were rocked to the core. At one point, the three-year-old reached over and said “Daddy, it looks like they’re in OUR world!”

During our brunch, my girlfriend got a call from her mom, who had finally opened the heartfelt email she’d sent on Friday. We were all on pins and needles, hoping she wouldn’t read it seconds before they arrived on her doorstep for Thanksgiving dinner. They had an epic, but lovely conversation where her mama basically told her that nothing had changed, she loved her just the same, and she was happy for her new found happiness. Her Facebook status today even contained the phrase “You learn something new every day, and it’s all good.” I can’t wait to meet this woman! She also invited me for Christmas day celebrations. I was so happy watching my girlfriend’s face while she spoke to her mother. It was easy to see the conversation was going well. As far as her dad’s concerned, her mom just seems to think that he’ll figure my boyfriend is the luckiest man in the world.

When I turned 30, my boss at the time took me to see an amazing psychic named John Pothia in Peterborough. I don’t put a lot of stock in these things, but it was interesting to hear what he had to say. In fact, it was a pretty incredible experience. He said a lot of very positive things, but two things in particular stand out these days.

Rather completely out of the blue he said “Straight, gay, it makes no difference and the sooner you stop worrying about this, the happier you’ll be.”

Then, at the end of the reading, when I asked him about children in my future, he said “I see you having one biological child of your own, but also other children in a completely unexpected way. Stepchildren, or something like that.”

These people are my family. Our bond gets stronger every day. Our older girl includes me when she speaks of “our family”, and whenever this happens my heart melts a little. My mother sent an email to my partners today wishing them a Happy Thanksgiving, which was really incredible, and next week we’re all piling into my little brother’s condo, so the girls can meet “my giant” (my brother is 6’7) and we can all just be together.

I would never have imagined this for myself. When I thought about my family unit, I always had a notion that it would be a little non-traditional, but I could never have conjured this. Yet somehow I did. We did. I took the time to heal my heart and my head, and here we’ve all found each other.

In restaurants, nobody stares. In our building, the concierge desk is manned by friendly, polite security officers who smile knowingly as we come and go. In the hustle and bustle of this big city we are just another unit of people, and to most of our loved ones, this is just another way to experience life and love.

It might be the greatest joy my life has ever known.

Gobbeling It All Up

Ya Bunch 'O Turkeys

Ya Bunch 'O Turkeys

Gratitude Top 30, 2009

In no particular order

1. ) You and your clever green/blue eyes and mop of toussled hair in the mornings, and your ability to always hear my heart without me ever needing to use my lips

2. ) You for your gentle patience, attention to detail, gigantic heart, and beautiful mouth, and for restoring my faith

3. ) You and the way you pronounce my name as though it had a letter “f”

4. ) You and your ability to read my mind and always know when I need a cuddle or a spontaneous “you’re so beeeeoootiful!”

5. ) Amanda for her ferocity, loyalty, and endless bounty of love.

6. ) Ming for her creativity, eye for beauty, steady, unwavering love, and impending bundle of joy

7. ) Kathryn for her incredible support, genius, understanding and partnership

8.) Josh for being the best guy for so many years, and for gladly stepping down to Commander Riker status when an honest-to-goodness Picard came along

8. ) Kyle, for almost always “getting me”

9. ) Mom, and her wall posts and chat attempts that show she’s really trying, and for her secret stash of hand-knit baby things

10. ) Dad for the best email all year

11. ) My boss, who I think can read my mind

12. ) Les Coquettes – both the on stage and off stage players, who fill my days with creative fire, and make each day a quest for beauty

13. ) Auntie Jackie and the enduring lesson that this tiny speckle of time is ours to make as fabulous and filled with love as we can

14.) Everyone who reacted to recent news with “That’s so awesome, I’m so happy for you all!”

15.) Everyone who reacted to recent news with “Wow, incredible. I have so many questions for you!”

16.) Everyone who reacted to recent news with “Oh, Schnoo.” or “Why????” or  “I have a terrible feeling about this.” or “I’m really worried about you.” or “Someone is going to get really hurt” or “It’s wrong to do this because there are children involved” or “I never would have chosen this for you”. Your fear and concern have reinforced everything I believe to be right and good because I can look you straight in the eye and tell you this is the best thing that’s ever happened.

17.) Waking up every morning to a hearty breakfast with the people I love, a packed lunch and a ride to work

18. ) Adventures in Schnoovile, where I feel like I was re-born

19. ) The Fortress of Solitude and it’s incredible restorative powers

20. ) Ursula and Andy for being the best landlords ever

21. ) Alexandra leaving – bittersweet, but ripe with adventure and possibility, and I’m thrilled that I get to read it all in old-fashioned letters from the coast

22. ) Arthur who filled the void so beautifully. I’ll miss you buddy

23. ) The smell of baking bread, currently tickling my nostrils

24. ) Crisp sunny autumn bike rides and the apples in my cheeks

25. ) Really, truly, loving myself

26. ) Barcelona, and Leonard Cohen’s birthday party

27. ) Saturday afternoon family pile-ups on the couch with a movie

28. ) The fact that we all have the same taste

29. ) The way you both look at me when I’m making art, on stage, singing, playing, writing, and doing any of the other things I love the best

30. ) Forgiveness. Without it, I’d never be here.

Keeping It In The Cupboard

This is the first image I found when I Googled "inside the kitchen cupboard"

This is the first image I found when I Googled "inside the kitchen cupboard"

Last night I had a heart-to-heart with the male third of my triad. We launched into this seated on the kitchen floor, half tucked inside the cupboard where the Tupperwear is stored, because we were looking for suitable containers for the girls’ lunch.

I am the first in our triad to tell my parents about what is happening in my life. I decided to do this for three reasons:

1.) My mom can read my mind and would have very quickly figured out that something was up anyway.

2.) Once upon a time in my personal history I sort of ambushed her with really significant personal news. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time because she had so much on her own plate, but as it turns out, this is going to be on the very short list of things I regret, probably forever.

3.) My extended family has had WAAYYY too many secrets. My mom was open and honest with me about our family’s skeletons and stories from the time I was old enough to understand the answers to the questions I was asking. I’ve never lived with secrets myself, because I am convinced that they give you cancer.

I maintain that my partners should talk to their families when they feel the time is right. I really do think this is important, but part of me knows I can’t really settle into this, and really learn to feel secure until that hurdle has been met.

I’ve only met my male partner’s parents. Most of the year they live on another continent, but they’ve been in Toronto since August, and we’ve had three occasions now to spend time together. Usually in a crowded, noisy, fairly public situation. They think I’m a dear friend, and by some miracle, neither of the kids have said anything like “Are you gonna sleep over again tonight Schnoo?” or “Schnoo stays at our house all the time” in front of their grandparents. The current strategy is to have these folks get to know me as a Schnoo first, and then when the time is right, tell them the rest of the story. I am skeptical that there is ever a right time to tell your parents that you’ve taken on a second woman, who is a lover to your wife, and who you want to have more children with. Hmmm…

As for the kidlets, they also think I’m a dear friend who stays over. A lot. I suppose that’s right, isn’t it? I haven’t really stayed at the Fortress of Solitude for over a month. In November, the clan will head off continent to spend time with his family. Six weeks of time in fact. I think I’ve been stock-piling my time with them knowing how shitty November will be.

He might tell his parents in November.

So presently, as was the case last night, I am half in and half out of the cupboard. The result is a strange mixture of freedom and sadness. I just want to get it over with, you know? Face any impending shit storms head on. Engage in epic conversations with worried and angry parents now, and then really settle into my life. Our life. No more monitoring photos posted on Facebook by friends, no more pretending to sleep on the couch, no more worrying over what the children may say to their grandparents. I can make a home, we can make a home, both physically and emotionally, and that will be truly sweet.

This has made me reflect on my own familial relationships. My parents are clearly a huge influence in my world, because in my own head and heart I couldn’t really enter into this relationship until I’d told them what was happening. Maybe I seek their approval too much? Maybe I need to sever the umbilical cord, and trust that my decisions are 100% my own, and that my parents will love me whether or not they approve of my choices? I’m happy to report that I think they’re doing really well with everything, considering. My dad seemed his usual self when I finally saw him in person, and my mom, though still trying hard to understand, is making overtures of friendship and camaraderie with my partners. I’m really happy about this. Also, one of my aunts has been incredible, both as a supportive, non-judgemental ear for my mom, and an understanding confidante for me. It delights me that she can talk about God and the various ways that love can manifest with clarity and conviction.

Love like this has made me want to shout it from the rooftops, but that just isn’t very practical in such a situation. Instead, there is a particular Rubbermaid cereal container that I’ve been whispering my devotions into.

Ten O’Clock is My New Bedtime

Lion or Ram?

Lion or Ram?

I am a lion, born under the sign of Leo. Not only am I a lion, but I am also a fire dragon, if you consult my Chinese astrological sign. However, at this particular moment, there is a three-and-a-half year old ram singing away in the bathtub who might be my most cunning adversary yet.

Tonight my girlfriend is playing baseball, and my boyfriend (yep, I do love saying that) is off in the United States of America with the six year old member of the tribe seeing to a spontaneous family affair. I am left alone with one who I have affectionately referred to time and again as Monkey.

For the most part, suddenly finding myself in the midst of an instant-family has been an incredibly smooth transition for me. I mean sure, I still have moments when I’m nostalgic for hours alone at my Fortress, sipping wine, and trying to ease the ache inside my heart with words. Words for you, words for me, just words. I miss solo strolls along Roncesvalles, choosing groceries for the one and only meal I would cook, just for me. Sniffing nectarines, selecting shiny apples, treating myself to a beautiful bouquet of flowers for my table. This was romantic, in its own right, but my partners have a very healthy sense of the importance of grown up time, so now life is a lovely balance of the domestic and well, that other stuff.

Monkey keeps summoning me to tub-side…

Apparently Monkey is now Kelpie the Mermaid, and would like to henceforth be addressed as such. I can’t stop calling her “buddy” and she completely hates it. I’m unaware in fact of how frequently I use this handle until she’s scowling and grunting at me “That’s not my name!”.

The girls have generally been very accepting of my presence here. They know I have my own home to go to (which I’ve seen very little of lately), but that I spend a lot of time with them, sometimes (and those are the best times) with Arthur in tow. Arthur is delighted with his new pack, and so patient and gentle with the girls. I can’t help but feel that Monkey/Kelpie is challenging me to see where I fit in. Although her ferocious moments aren’t just reserved for me.

I’m told that the terrible twos often bleed into a much worse reality called Three. I’ve started consulting the Internet for parenting advice, since my learning curve is steep. Don’t get me wrong, Monkey is generally beyond adorable – clever, saucy, so funny, and super smart, but lately things have been challenging. She’s bursting at the seams sometimes, I think. Requests are demands, objections are shrieks, grunts, sometimes outright hollers. Last night, while left to deal with dinner supervision, I witnessed her coat both her arms in sour cream, gripping the table with her bare toes while staring me down defiantly. It was about the tenth time she barked “NO” at me that I decided it was time to walk Arthur, and I left her in the more than capable hands of daddy. I don’t ever want to raise my voice, and I felt like I was at my limit.

She pushes as far as she can, and then repents with bitter tears and a string of “sorry! sorry! sorry!”. In those moments we hold her and tell her we love her, and try to patiently explain that we are a pack, and that we must all compromise and be considerate and respectful of the other pack members.

I feel deeply challenged. She is Alpha, like me. She is flexing her muscles for the first time, and the way we negotiate this, she and I, will set the tone for the rest of our existence together. I think it must be one thing to grow with a child since baby-hood, but this is unbelievably intimidating sometimes. I don’t let on about this. Not to her, not to anyone really. I’m afraid she won’t take me seriously, so I remain patient but firm. I walk away from tantrums, I encourage quiet moments, and creative ways for her to take on responsibility and express herself to the rest of us. I stare her down calmly when she’s smearing herself with condiments.

At bedtime tonight (which happened before 9pm, I am proud to state) she insisted I stay and snuggle for a bit, which I was delighted to do. I tried to calm her by singing to her, and this actually worked. Her current favourites are Somewhere Over the Rainbow, which apparently she heard from me first, and Riverwide which she couldn’t possibly realize is actually a Sheryl Crow tune. Singing in soft, dulcet tones with her little fresh-from-the-bath smelling sweet self curled up beside me, tucked under my chin was the kind of heaven I’ve only dreamed of up until now. Soon she was sleeping, and after several moments, I untangled myself and stepped carefully from the room. This resulted in her waking almost immediately and shrieking indecipherable things at me. I attempted to calm her, but when the air-kicking started, I backed slowly out of the room with a “Goodnight Monkey. I love you, but I’m not going to listen to this.”

As it turns out, I’m in love with four people. One of them really likes to arm wrestle, and victory tastes sweet for both of us. She’s fast asleep now, and in the morning, she will cry out my name when I emerge from the bathroom and join her at the breakfast table, as if she is surprised and delighted to always find me there, despite knowing each night that I haven’t gone back to my own house.

And so tonight, the lion is victorious, and with my sleepy tawny head propped up by a pile of pillows, reclining on the sofa, I’m trolling the internet for the lyrics to my favourite songs from when I was a kidlet. I’m keeping Puff The Magic Dragon in my back pocket for emergencies only.

Stay tuned for stories of Barcelona…and hopefully photos!

On Love, On Life, and On the Two F´s

It´s 3:00 pm in Barcelona, and we are just now leaving the hotel. We’ve learned that his city doesn’t like to go to bed, and after being invited to stay after hours at the little bar across the street, we finally called it a day at 4:45 am.

Now, I´m waiting for the tribe to get ready, and I’m hiding in the sexy basement of our sexy hotel stealing some moments to leave a little imprint here. There’s so much more to come, but I don’t want to miss a minute of this city, so I will write more later from the mental notes I’ve been collecting.

I will tell you this, however…

I think I love this city even more than I loved Paris. Perhaps it is because here, on this trip, I’m surrounded by so much love. Or because the pace is so easy and casual, and people are literally strolling through the streets. Perhaps it’s because I am happier than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, or because I feel so strong and assured. Perhaps it’s the food, the RIDICULOUS generosity with which every bartender pours, the swarthy he and she pirates that inhabit this place, everywhere you turn. Perhaps it’s the undulating curves of the architecture, the fine, delicate iron work of the Julietta balconies, the graceful tumble of flowers from wrought iron framework, spreading across old stone like tentative fingers across a lover’s chest…

There is poetry everywhere here, and I am instantly comfortable and at home.

Spanish sounds like music, music sounds like magic, and the three of us want to return and set up shop with our little ones some day. We are in love with each other, we are in love with Barcelona, and Barcelona seems to love us in return.

While Paris was the perfect boyfriend, Barcelona is the crone-like, witchy Grandmaman who still wears red lipstick and has a mischievous twinkle in her eye because she’s seen and done it all. She hugs us close to her Sandalwood perfumed breasts and our history is mirrored in the musky, familiar scent, and the warmth of her unconditional understanding and approval. She knows that all we have in this life is love and every breath we take means one more chance to celebrate our love, and make vivid our own stories.

Yesterday, after lunch and shopping, we strolled through the streets on the way back to the hotel, and ahead of us was a family, not much older than we are. On the outside – a little boy of about four, then a lovely woman who held his hand, on her other hand a girl of perhaps two, attached to her a handsome man who looked just like her, and on his other arm another beautiful woman ripe with child. I saw them and my breath caught. I realized with intuitive certainty that I’m not the last unicorn. There are others like us, who live like us and love like us, and raise beautiful families like us. With one quiet glance and a slow-spreading smile exchanged between the lot of us, we shared recognition and understanding, and the power and beauty of that brief meeting was more beautiful than I can effectively describe. It was perfect, and we all felt its power.

Yesterday I held a tiny pair of baby shoes in my hand, placed there adoringly by the man who will some day father my children. On my arm was the woman who will help me raise these children, and who will be my guide through the experience of pregnancy and childbirth. A warm, delicious knot took hold of my throat and made it impossible for me to speak.

There aren’t many who can look upon their lives and realize they have everything they could ever wish for, and then some extra for dipping. Each morning (or afternoon) when I wake, I whisper a silent prayer of gratitude that I am one of them.

Gracias, gracias, gracias…