i'm sad

Because I'm lucky, I'm sad.  God, am I sad.  I am so sad.

Norah is wishing she had a daddy. 

But she doesn't just wish she had a daddy.  She wishes she would have a daddy INSTEAD OF having two mommies.  

Dang.  

So here's the thing.  I'm working on this one so hard.

I have a very smart and intuitive and empathetic child.  She is a truly gifted communicator and she is so amazingly compassionate.  (She's also a brat sometimes, a smart ass, super sassy and rushes through her homework with the attentiveness of a flea, but that's a blog post for another day.)

Let's hang out with some of those ghosts from Scrooge's life and take a peak into my life moments so I can illustrate how this is unfolding. . . .

So a couple of weeks ago, we were on our way to the pumpkin patch to meet our niece and Norah's cousin, Olivia and her beau.  Norah likes said beau and likes to pretend that he is her "prince charming." (Don't get me started on how Cinderella Ate My Daughter.  Also a blog post for another day.)

We felt compelled to do some of our infamous social-worky-over-communicative-pre-teaching with Norah about spending time with Olivia's beau. 

"Norah, don't spend the whole time at the pumpkin patch trying to hold B's hand. He is Olivia's boyfriend, not yours."

"Why can't I have a boyfriend?"

"You are not old enough to have a boyfriend. When will you be old enough to have a boyfriend?"

"I don't know.  I'm tired of talking about this.  Can we listen to some music?"

"Norah, while we are at the pumpkin patch, let Olivia show Brandon around.  Don't try to always be up under his feet."

"I'M NOT GOING TO. I WANT TO LISTEN TO MUSIC."

Cue Taylor Swift or Katy Perry or Carly Rae Jepsen, singing some prince charming song about somebody else's boyfriend. (thanks to the universe gods for keeping it real with me.)

The next day we are getting ready to go to Norah's soccer game and she and I are cleaning out the car.  She looks at me with all the compassion and warmth in her precious and tender heart and says, 

"Mommy, I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything.  But I really wish you were gone and I could have a Daddy instead."

Stabbed right through the heart . . . I wasn't prepared. . . .In the fashion of a good crisis counselor, I denied my own personal (secondary?) trauma and came right back with, "What do you think would be cool about having a Daddy?"

"He would be handsome and beautiful and he would be my Prince Charming."

"Oh I see.  You would like to have a Prince Charming . . ."

"No I want a Daddy.  Moms should be married to Dads.  I don't want to have two Mommies."

"But if you didn't have two Mommies, we wouldn't be here.  We wouldn't be three girls can.  Your Mama and I would have never met Mama Ashley and she never would have picked us to be your moms and you wouldn't be here right now.  That would be so sad!"

"I like three girls can.  Maybe if Mama was gone you could find a boy who would like you and he could be my Daddy."

"Norah, I have had boys like me before.  I was even married to a boy once."

"What happened?"

"He and I decided we were better friends than we were husband and wife.  So we got a divorce.  And then I met your Mama and I had True Love with her.  And then we got you.  And then we all got married.  Remember that?"

"What was his name?"

"His name was Don."

And then Melissa walks out the door . . .

"Mama! Did you know Mommy was married to a boy named Don?"

And because Melissa is my queen and a social worker and also good in a crisis, she came right back with, "I sure did."

And we hopped in the car and went to soccer practice. 

And I cried the whole way.  

The next day, Melissa and Norah were walking to school and Norah told Melissa that she wished she was dead so that we could have a funeral.  We would all be sad, but then I would find a Daddy for her.  Mel, ever so much stronger than me, did not cry all the way to work.  She's such a good mom. 

Later that week, we are reading a book and Norah notices there is no mention of a father in the book, while they talk about the kid and his mom all throughout the book.  

"You are still really thinking about having a dad."

"Yes, I want a Daddy."

"You know, Norah, there are all kinds of families.  Some kids have one mom and one dad.  Some kids have a step-mom.  Some kids live with their grandparents."
(Thanks Todd Parr)

"Yes I know and some kids have two dads.  But I want a daddy and a mommy."

"I know you do.  How would things be different?"

"He would be handsome and he would kiss me."

"But not True Love's first kiss."

"Right just like how you and mama kiss me."

Mel chimes in, "Norah sometimes kids who don't have dads have relationships with other grown-ups who are boys.  Like their uncles or their granddads."

"But Granddaddy is too OLD and Papa is gone!"

Too OLD for what I don't know.  Too Old to be Prince Charming I suppose.  

"You know Mama Ashley had a man who helped make you right?  But he isn't around.  You know your big sister Jada had a daddy and his name was Randy.  But he got sick and died.  And now Jada doesn't have a daddy either. So she understands what it's like . . ."

"When is dinner going to be ready?"

So Norah wants a daddy.  And she really wants a handsome young Daddy.  Maybe she wants a Prince Charming but she doesn't want to have another conversation with her moms about True Love.  So she's hammering away at having a daddy. 

Here's the thing - - - And of course I told her this too - - -she's never going to have a daddy, even if one of us dies or we both die.  The man who helped make her is not interested in knowing about her and doesn't want to be her daddy.  

And this is something I cannot change.  My first thought was that we should start going to LGBT family support groups so she could hang out with kids who have similar situations to her.  I also wondered if I could encourage her establishing closer more Dad-like relationships with her uncles or other men that we care about. And while these might be valuable, therapeutic pursuits,  the end result is not going to be that Norah gets what she wants.
 I thought about all the things that having a Dad is and isn't.  I talked with my friends about what it feels like when their kids want other families.  Mel and I talked about how we remember wanting our parents to be different.  

And that's it right? This is something that is part of growing up.  Wanting your family to be different.  Maybe you want your family to have more money.  Maybe you want your family to have a dog.  Maybe you want your dad to be the kind of guy who wrestles with you on the floor and tickles you until you can't breathe.  Maybe you want your dad to be the kind of guy who listens to the song you wrote and tells you how amazing it is.  Maybe you just want your dad to be alive and healthy.  

But at any rate, we all go through that, that wanting.  

And certainly it may be coupled with the wish that what we do have simply wasn't what we had.  Like maybe you wish sometimes that your family didn't sing barbershop quartet at the Boy Scout camp that weekend.  Or maybe you wish your dad hadn't hopped out of the car your senior year and waved goodbye so loudly.  Just saying . . .

And certainly we've raised our daughter to talk with us about what's on her mind.  So it's not unusual that we would be hearing about it.  

But it hits me in the softest spot.  I guess it's a little bit of internalized homophobia.  I feel guilty because we aren't a family with a mom and a dad.  I feel like I've cheated her from something she deserves.  

And that is not the case.  I haven't cheated her.  I haven't done anything wrong and there's nothing wrong with our family.  

She wants a daddy instead of two mommies. 

Intellectually, I understand I cannot give it to her.  Intellectually, I understand that this is part of parenting.  This is the part of parenting where you have to face the fact that you WILL be part of the pain and sorrow of your child's life, that it is absolutely unavoidable that the things that you do or have done will hurt your child.  

And so intellectually, I'm trying to make peace with that.  

But emotionally, I'm sad. I wish Norah could have what she wanted.  I wish I could give it to her.  And I wish I was wise enough and smart enough to not wish these things.  

Even still, I'm pretty fucking lucky.

Norah and Martin Luther King, Jr

It has been an interesting week with my daughter.  Most weeks are pretty damn good.  But I wasn't ready for this week. I thought she said some pretty cool things and stuff I really wasn't expecting to come out of her distracted and wandering mouth.  

Because I'm lucky, I am very grateful for her teachers and the attention they have given to Martin Luther King, Jr. this last week. Here are the treasures this has yielded for my wife and me at home:

STORY #1 and #2
Talking about her school day is always a chore for Norah.  She would much prefer to make up fantastical stories of her own (like the time her teacher pushed her down during story time and hurt her knee, or the time that I turned into a small creature).  So I was pleasantly surprised when Norah told me that they had been talking about "Martin Luther King, Jr.."  I like getting the whole name in, specifically.  I asked her what she learned about Martin Luther King, Jr.  and she said, "He was somebody who made speeches and got shot."  I asked why he got shot.  And she said, "Because he was trying to do something good and the guy who shot him didn't like it."  I asked what was he trying to do and she said, "Just make sure that we're all nice to eachother." 

YES. Well Done Mr. Brack and Sra. Ariza.  That IS what he was trying to do.

End of Story #1

And then I said, "You know Norah, Martin Luther King, Jr. helped us understand a lot of important things.  When he was giving his speeches, people thought that kids with brown skin, beautiful brown skin just like yours, shouldn't go to school with other people."

NORAH: What?!

Because she's lucky, a feeling of hurt is creeping over her beautiful brown face . . .

ME:  I know isn't that weird?  Martin Luther King Jr gave speeches to say that he believed that everyone should be able to go to school together, to eat together, to ride the bus together, no matter what color your skin is.

Feeling of comfort sneaking back over her beautiful brown face . . .

NORAH: Yeah . . .

ME:  Right.  He thought that people with brown skin should be able to eat with people with yellow skin and red skin and black skin and white sk . . .

NORAH: (Interrupting me--) WHITE SKIN?  I've never seen anyone with WHITE skin!!!! Mommy that's silly.  

YES. 

Because Black and White do not reflect who we are.  They reflect what we teach ourselves and our children about who They are and who Us is and if we teach them They are Black or Us is White, then we've gotten it wrong.  

End of Story #2

STORY #3

A few days later, I came home from work and relieved our awesome and sensitive and smart babysitter, Sarah, from her important work of nurturing this beautiful child of mine.  And she said, "Norah said the coolest thing today.  We were looking through the Box of Questions and we came across this question--

If you could be famous for anything, what would you want to be famous for? 

And Norah said, I would want to be famous for giving speeches like Martin Luther King, Jr. 

and I (Sarah) said, what would you give speeches about? And Norah said, the same things as him.  Telling people to be nice to eachother, like no hitting, no biting, no pinching, no name calling . . ."

End of Story #3

If you know me at all, you know that I have always known that as a parent, I am called to help my child, regardless of what shade her skin is, understand that we are not Black or White or Brown or Cinnamon or Cafe Con Leche or Peach or Gray (that's what color s

he says my skin is, by the way--the lovely shade of Gray).  That's what our skin may look like, but that is not who we are.  WE are people who eat together, learn together, ride the bus together, sing together, play together, read together . . . and WE should be nice to each other.  All the time.  

I know the day grows ever closer when she will understand that she is Black and I am White.  I am absolutely not raising a color blind child, please don't get it twisted.  But Norah will also understand that she is NORAH and her skin color is cinnamon in the summer and caramel in the winter and that her gray old mother believes that regardless of whose path your crossing the number one thing you should remember is that you should be nice to people, no hitting, no pinching, no name calling.  

It's a hard life to live, being a brown-skinned baby in a gray and peach family.  Because we're lucky, we get to be a part of her journey.  

I wish that we lived in a world where she was as lucky as me.