From the mouth of babes.
I cannot tell you how happy watching this video made me today, on a day when Jack told us he was embarrassed to have two moms. Yup. He said it. I knew it was coming, but I thought maybe it would come later, after he left the warm and welcoming bubble that is his Montessori preschool, after public school shed light on his "alternative" family and he had to deal with the reality that, even in ultra-liberal New York, his family is different than most families.
But no. It happened today and he's only five years old.
It came up because Polly is off of work with a sprained ankle, and so could come with me to talk to his class today. I decided to make a yearbook for the kids this year, his last year of preschool. He asked if Mommy (Polly) could stay home. I thought he was just in "mamma-mode," favoring me because I've been working more than usual lately. So I said no, Mommy would come.
"Can one of you stay in the car?"
One of us? Oh boy. We knew something was up. It's not like this was our first time showing up at his school. We've been to every parent-teacher conference, every let-your-child-be-your-teacher day, every concert, every field trip and we've shown up to his class on every one of his last three birthdays, cupcakes and video camera in hand.
Then, staring down at his latest Lego creation, Jack admitted he felt embarrassed because we're different. One of his friends apparently asked him why he had two moms yesterday, and though he's been asked this before, he's old enough now to be aware that this was not just a fact-gathering question, but a question about why his family is different than other families.
"I love you both, but I'm embarrassed." Ouch.
When it was time to go talk to his class, we hesitated. Should we protect his feelings and give in to his request? Or should we go in together as planned? I realized Jack was feeling some of the same feelings GLBT people feel before they come out, when they're trying to belong and think that "passing" will help them fit in. Big stuff for a munchkin.
How do you help your five-year-old come out?
Who knows where Jack falls on the Kinsey scale? It's too soon to tell. But he has three gay parents, and so just like our parents and family members did and do, he has to experience some level of coming out. When you're a girl married to a girl, you're always going to have to clarify your situation to someone. The doctor, the babysitter, the friend who wants to invite "you and your husband" over for dinner. When you're a boy in a two-mom-one-dad family, you're going to have to explain it from time to time, simply because most people are straight.
My mom's so out she tells everyone she has two daughters. Polly's folks, not so much. They're a work in progress. Patrick's parents have been out and proud for years: they march in pride parades, write their editorials and stay very involved and on top of all of our issues. I'm always encouraging my Dad to be more out about his gay daughter and daughter-in-law...but how do you ask that of a little boy?
Still, this was one of those pivotal parenting moments, when you have an opportunity to teach your child how to
be in the world. What do we stand for? How do we tell our story? Do we hide or do we show up and be who we are?
We decided to go together, because he'll remember this moment, and we want him to know that it's important to show up, even when you're nervous people won't accept you. He'll remember that we're proud of our family. He'll remember that his moms aren't ashamed of who they are. And most of all he'll remember that we love each other, and it's all okay.
And it
was okay. It ended up being a non-issue, anyway. He was very excited to see both of us and he seemed proud we were helping out in his class.
It's not over, far from it. There will be more questions, and probably teasing and maybe even some ugly stuff. But not today.
1 comments:
It was a non-issue at my house too. Only Gus thinks a yearbook is how you remember someone when they Die. I told him it was also a way to remember what you looked like when you were five.
A tough getting-through-the-door moment. We're thankful you were brave today.
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