Punkgirl Gets Out

I have something to tell you that I haven't previously shared on Suck At Home Mom's Cranky Blog, because it wasn't my secret to share.  Punkgirl gave me the go-ahead, though, since it's something she's pretty happy about.

Punkgirl is officially "out."  She knew two years ago that she was gay, but I had asked her to wait a bit, explaining that I loved her whether she was attracted to girls, boys, or both, or whatever, but that she was still very young, and since she's still too young to date, she had plenty of time to decide. She took her time, sought out her real feelings, and confirmed her original assessment that she was a lesbian.

She was disappointed, I think, that we didn't seem shocked, or disappointed, or something, but Coffeeguy and I had always expected Happyboy to have that conversation (though surprisingly, despite his penchant for pink pants and butterfly tops, he has a crush on a girl named "V"), so when Punkgirl came out we sort of just transferred that prepared "we love you no matter what" speech to her.  She wears a pin that says, "Gay by nature, fabulous by choice" and carries the book Annie On My Mind around wherever she goes, throwing them out as a flag for those who are like her.  She wrote a newspaper for her writing resources class, and in it included a pretend advice column post that questioned the best way to come out.  

We took her to Pride, and celebrated with her, and we became followers of GLSEN and PFLAG on Facebook and Twitter.

She is so well-adjusted, and I have to feel like part of that is because of the unwavering love we have for her.  Most of it is just because she is who she is.

So now you know.  Punkgirl is out.  And she is awesome.

Marriage Is No Fairy Tale

This article on The Good Men Project is entitled "Marriage Is No Fairy Tale." The commenters seem upset by the implication that they did not start out as their significant other's "best friend."  What do you think?
/http://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/marriage-is-no-fairy-tale-aia/

To Party or Not To Party?

Rose turns one in a few short weeks, and I don't know where the time has gone. Usually as Punkgirl's and Happyboy's respective birthdays approach, I start planning big, crazy parties so that my giant family can attend.  We have tried the party at home (too difficult--my apartment is small and the guests never leave), the roller skating party (good, but kind of crowded), the bowling party (I liked that one, because we made it a super-hero bowling party), the bouncy house place (that one was a blast, but kind of pricey), and the hiking at the lake party (I liked that one too, but by the second hour it was freezing.)

Now that Rose's big, huge, milestone first birthday is approaching, I have planned...exactly nothing. Not only is the money a sort of issue--I only work one day per week, after all--but it's Christmas time. I could spend a giant portion of our Christmas money on a party I know she won't remember...or I can simply have a cake for very close family and leave it at that. A part of me feels like this is cheating Rose--no cool presents or fun party music--but another part of me thinks this is the only way to go.

While I love planning parties and I feel like they are milestones that should be celebrated and remembered...is it really a bad thing to skip the hype so close to the holidays? Does that make me the suckiest of suck at home moms?

White Baby, Black Doll

I remember when Punkgirl was little, and she loved baby dolls more than any other toy in the store.  She had about 100 baby dolls over the years, each with their own name and story.  Some of them were hideous...I remember one that used to shake like a crack addict and fall down.  I'm pretty sure we even called it "crack baby" (not in front of her, of course.). She loved every single one, but there was a very special set of twin baby dolls that she got on her first Christmas that have brought both her and her sister immense joy, despite the controversy they caused with strangers and even a couple of family members.

Punkgirl fell in love with a set of black baby doll twins when she was about 9 months old.  By in love I mean that she squealed and bounced up and down from the first moment she saw them, reaching out her hands for them immediately.  They have had many names over the years; once they were "the babies"...when she was learning colors they were her "beautiful brown babies"...when she was older they had "twin" names, like Emma and Ava or things like that.

From the moment she started carrying them around, she has had commentary. "Why do you have black babies?  You're white," was the least offensive. Neither Punkgirl nor her parents care if the babies are black, white, brown, or even purple; they are simply cute babies.  But for some reason, some people have a hard time understanding why I would buy my child a brown baby doll.  I had forgotten those conversations over the years, as Punkgirl stopped carrying dolls around (she's is 12, after all) and kept them neatly on her bed instead.  Now that 10 month old Rose has fallen in love with one of the twins (though interestingly not both) I find myself anticipating the same questions.  So I am preparing my answers ahead of time.  They're not complicated, but here they are, the top ten answers to the question "why does your white baby have a brown baby doll?"

1.  This is a cute baby.  Why would I want an ugly baby?

2.  She likes that baby.  They have the same lack of hair.

3.  I don't want her to judge anyone by skin color, so why start with a baby doll?

4.  Why the hell not?

5.  Why are you hating on a baby doll?

6.  It makes her happy.  SEE REASON #2

7.  Why do you only have a white baby doll.  Are you (gasp, look around, whisper) a racist?

8.  I believe in loving ALL baby dolls, regardless of color, religion, or sexual orientation.  In fact, this one just came out of the closet a few weeks ago. (Literally, my daughter has a box of dolls.)

9.  Are you still hating on a baby doll?  

10.  It's none of your damn business what I buy my baby, but in this case, it's been her sister's doll for twelve years, so she's part of the family.  That makes you a (second cousin, great-uncle, etc),  FYI.

So...what kinds of baby dolls does your child have?

Previously posted on BlogHer.

Punkgirl's Last Halloween?

Punkgirl decided last week that she was no longer interested in trick-or-treating, after her pet rat (who she had planned to take along on her shoulder) passed away unexpectedly.  I had forgotten her plan to take him along, and her announcement that she was not celebrating Halloween not only took me by surprise but saddened me greatly.

Halloween is my favorite time of year, slightly eeking out Christmas (and only because Christmas candy is generally a bunch of stuff I can't eat.)  I love having the chance to dress up, to be someone else, and to watch my family enjoy the same.  Punkgirl is 12, and pretty soon she'll hit that age where she won't want to dress up, just because--so not wanting to go this year because of the rat is bringing that home a little too early for me.

At 41, I'm realizing that my pre-teen is heading towards "teen" faster than I can say "tween."  I'm left feeling like she will no longer have time for costumes and nerdiness, which is why I've tried to cram them all in this year, with Comic Con and King Richard's Faire.  I'm working on fitting in a SuperMegaFest too, just to give her one more silly activity before her 13th birthday.  She already knows about Santa, and the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny, so the days of forcing Coffeeguy to dress up so I can "catch" Santa leaving the presents won't come around again until Rose turns 3 or so.

That was why I was so thrilled on Saturday, when she came home after dance class to tell me that all dancers could wear costumes to class next week (which was reserved for the kinder-combo kids in previous years.) She pulled out an old black jazz costume, a plain black Lycra jumpsuit, and a new mask she had bought for her wall.  She couldn't decide what she would be...Goddess of Death? She added a pair of rainbow wings.  Goddess of Rainbows? I suggested covering the wings with black fabric and getting some black feathers and a tutu--a stylized Black Swan kind of costume.  She hasn't decided yet, but I'm so glad she's trying to figure out what to make.  My baby will have at least one last year of childhood before she's "too old" for trick-or-treating and Halloween.

These are the pieces we have so far:  

Any suggestions from other suck-at-home moms out there? (Or if you're not sucky at home, even better...give a girl a creative tip!) I don't have a lot of disposable cash...but I want this to be a great costume, since it might be the last!

Getting Punkgirl's Back

     I got a call from the school guidance counselor on Thursday, which is generally never a good thing.  Imagine my surprise when he was calling to tell me that Punkgirl was doing so well in her 7th grade math class that the teacher recommends moving her up to the next level.  As my proud mama chest swelled to its high point, 3 things clicked in my head:

1.  Punkgirl had had a tough couple of weeks at school.  An issue with another child (who was harassing her non-stop) had culminated with the school canceling an outreach program that had allowed the girls to volunteer in the Special Needs program.  The official reason was that there were too many children volunteering for such a small group; but the teacher had let slip that there was too much of an issue between the two girls.  A meeting with the school administration had assured us that Punkgirl was not at fault, and she was issued an apology for the comment.

2.  She was already taking 2 advanced classes--English and Social Studies, which required loads of extra work.

3.  Math was not her strong suit.  She was doing well in it because it was at a nice, comfortable pace, and she was a perfectionist.  If I moved her, would she be so stressed about potentially getting a B that I would be kicking myself?

     Two sentences caught my ear, and they settled the issue for me.  "We would have to move her social studies slot." 

     

     More changes for my routine-thriving tween.  

     

     "And you know, there will be the added benefit of not being in the same class as J."

     Wait a minute.  Rewind to last week, before my meeting with the administration, where the Vice Principal--much to his later chagrin--suggested we move MY daughter so they wouldn't be in the same class, and I made him understand instantly that I wasn't moving my daughter when she wasn't the one causing the problem.

     I decided to talk it over with Punkgirl.  As I suspected, she did not want to move from her usual Social Studies AND Math classes. I feel like we challenge our children a lot, and while in some cases it is a great thing, I just think in this case it is too much.  I plan to call the school with my decision today...but my question is, knowing what you now know, would you hold your child back from the more challenging class? 

(Previously posted on BlogHer as "Would You Hold Your Child Back?")

Priorities of a 5th Grader

     Last night was the Open House for my son's 5th grade class.  I was annoyed about having to go, because I've been to it before for my daughter and because they do the same thing every year, but I knew Happyboy would be sad if I went to his sister's Open House and not his, so I sucked it up and made my way to the Elementary School.  

     I always feel out of place--when I worked I had no time to donate to the school, and when I stopped working I had Rose, so I still couldn't spend time in the classrooms.  I am awful at small talk, and my kids have a few friends in the neighborhood--but not actually ones that go to their schools (they have friends at their schools, but they are not the same ones that are in our neighborhood.)  This means that I really don't know the other parents, the teachers don't always recognize my face, and I spend my time looking down at my kid's desk feeling like the nerd with no friends.  

     There is always a "surprise" from your child on said desk.  A letter, a question, something you have to respond to so you can't even lie and go to Target and just say you went to Open House.  This year each child wrote their 5th grade goal, and each parent responded with their goals for the child.  Now, I know schoolwork is not high on Happyboy's priority list, but I assumed he could fake it for the teacher.  Below is his goal paper and my response to it: 

     As you can see, he's a TMNT fan.  He's also more interested in art and music than any other subject.  I was almost angry, but in the end, it was so him, I could only laugh.  Trust my boy to leave something to take my mind off of being a nerd.  Happyboy, I hope you rock fifth grade.

Breaking Promises

     We were supposed to end the summer with a big goodbye, by repeating the best reward from all the summer challenges.  Punkgirl and Happyboy voted on dinner at the beach, which was pretty fun the first time around, is something you can really only do in summer (unless you want sand in your eyes and don't want to go in the water at all), and was cheap enough to fit into my non-existent budget.

     When the Tuesday before school came around there was just no way we could do it.  Coffeeguy had to work late, Rose had been up all night, and I had no sandwich bread or anything feasible to transport to the beach.  At 4:30 there were thunderstorms.  We told the kids we would make it the first day of school celebration, and had a movie night instead.  They fought over the movie, finally agreed on one, and only mentioned not going to the beach about 7 times.  

     On Wednesday, Coffeeguy had two people out at work, and he would probably be late.  Although he made it home by 5, I had already had the conversation that we couldn't go today (complete with angry accusations of "you said TODAY.)  The weather was supposed to be much better by the weekend.  We said Friday.

     Punkgirl was pissed enough to go to the INTERIM guidance counselor (hers was on maternity leave) to tell them how upset she is that she didn't get to go have dinner on the beach.  I was pissed enough that she was pissed that I spat out "Life doesn't always go the way we want it to! You deal with it and move on!"

     Friday it was freezing.  Knowing the pissy response I was going to get at the idea of not going, we gave them a choice:  We can go today, and not swim, or go tomorrow, and POTENTIALLY swim.  It was going to be 15 degrees higher tomorrow, and more than likely warm enough for them to go in the water.

     Cue the sulking faces and the pouty behavior.  As they sat down to watch the Goonies (which you can't help but laugh at, which is why we picked it) with popcorn and candy (having replaced Beach Dinner with another Movie Night) I began to analyze Punkgirl's reactions to postponing the trip.  We didn't do that often, and I found myself getting increasingly angry that she was all bad moody because I had to move ONE of the 90 activities I had planned that summer.  Sometimes things can't be set in stone, sometimes we have to be flexible, sometimes we just damn well can't do them at all---

     In the midst of my mental tirade I figured it out.  I wasn't angry with Punkgirl for being disappointed that we had to move our plans to another night.  I was mad at myself, for making her upset enough to go to a virtual stranger to settle her thoughts down.  I had parents who were divorced, and there were times where my father didn't show up after we waited anxiously all day.  My mother would say he had to work.  I remember being mad or upset, and my poor mother could never tell me that Dad couldn't take us today because she smelled alcohol on his breath.  I saw it as a broken promise, that Dad didn't want to spend time with us, that he had to work too much.

     Even as an adult, when my relationship with my Dad was great, and I talked about how awesome he was, my mother never told me why he couldn't make it on those days.  It wasn't until a few years after he had passed that she let on how tough it had been.

     Neither I nor Coffeeguy were alcoholics, and we weren't divorced.  Our broken promises were caused by inconvenience and weather.  I realized that Punkgirl was feeling the same way I had felt, like Mom & Dad just didn't want to spend time with her.  I felt awful.  So I decided, then and there, that I would make up for it.  We not only would go to the beach on Saturday, we would have dinner, they would swim and I would call their favorite cousins who live near the beach for an added surprise. We would bring the leftover candy from movie night.  It would be worth the wait, it would be fantastic, and it would change my "broken promise" into a fulfilled one.