Why My Son Will Play With Dolls

Yes, you heard me correctly.

Yesterday on Facebook, I started a weigh-in of opinions with my status post:

Parents of boys: I'm wondering, would you/do you allow your boys to play w/ dolls? Why or why not? (My mind is made up; I'm just curious as to how other parents feel/think).

People immediately began weighing in, on everything from boys playing with dolls, kitchen sets, and strollers, to pink sippy cups and pink swimmies for the pool, and have done so up until about 12 hours ago. What I learned is that the majority of people agree that boys should most definitely be allowed to play with dolls. And here is why I feel the same.

I don't believe in restricting toys from children, unless they are age-inappropriate or dangerous, of course. I run a day care, and I have learned that children rarely play with toys in the manner in which they were intended (i.e. a baby bath becomes a lounging area to read a book), and children are HUGE mimics. I used to watch a little boy when I first starting the day care; Cullen was an infant at the time and I was nursing. This little boy was always so interested in what I was doing with Cullen; he would ask me if I was "milking the baby." :-) When I would change Cullen's diaper, this little boy would go get a baby doll and a baby blanket and follow my every move: lay the blanket down, lay the baby doll on it, and pretend to change its diaper. In essence, he was learning how to be a caregiver or a parent. Other boys in the day care have routinely played with dolls, saying they were "daddy" and they had to "take their baby to day care so they could go to work." They were doing what they have seen their parents do. At the same time, they are learning imaginative play, socialization skills, and how to play with others (i.e. playing with the "families" they create within the day care). By playing with dolls and mimicking adults, boys (and children in general) are learning to be nurturing and loving. How can that be a bad thing?

I often wonder about the parents who have restricted or would restrict dolls from their sons. I wonder if they realize that their boys probably do play with dolls in day care or preschool; that there is no separation of "boy's toys" and "girl's toys" in those settings. And if any of those parents actually believe that their boys playing with dolls might "make them gay," well, the ridiculousness of that would warrant a whole new blog post entirely.

When it comes to parenting Cullen, I would feel that I was doing him a great disservice by discouraging him from playing with a certain toy just because societal norms determine it to be a "girl's toy." By doing that, I would be teaching him to be ashamed of what he finds enjoyable to play with; instilling my son with shame and guilt would not be my idea of being a good mom. And as I stated earlier, as long as it is age-appropriate and not dangerous, why should he not be permitted to play with it? I believe that allowing him to play with toys of his choosing, I am instilling in him self-confidence, a sense of self, and an overall love of learning and exploring. Now whether those toys turn out to be dolls or trucks remains to be seen, but the choice will be his regardless.

So, when and if the day comes that Cullen wants his very own doll to play with, we will march proudly into the store, where he will choose his perfect tool to facilitate healthy play and learning.

What's A Month?

So, Amy and I have decided to put off another insemination until June . . . we have some stressful events coming up and decided together that it would be best to take a month off. What's a month? A long time in the midst of this process. I know deep down that this is a sensible, smart decision, and will provide some time and space to breathe and work on relaxation and managing anxieties. Yet it still causes a forlorn feeling inside me, almost an emptiness.

I know that I need to work on my anxieties. When it comes to this process, both when we got pregnant with Cullen and this time around, my anxieties seem to consume me. I'm frequently worried about timing, are we doing everything correctly, will it work this time, how long will it take? My mind is often like a war zone, all these thoughts racing through my head and me trying incessantly to quiet them, reaching for a reassurance (or reassurances) to hold on to, to calm me. When the reassurance I need is napping right across the hall--my beautiful, sweet, mischievous blond-haired boy that I gave birth to.

I'm going to try my hardest to take this time to relax, keep meditating, blogging, taking walks, eating better, and anything else I discover that may help. Here's to staying relaxed and remaining hopeful.

Sad

So . . . I discovered this morning that I am not pregnant--this time. I'm sad, I'm disappointed, but I also know that I have to work on being positive (although, for those reading that have actually met me, you're probably laughing or shaking your head). I'm still amazed at myself for sharing this with the free world, but I find it therapeutic, so it can't be so bad. Plus, if I'm going to share with all of you that we've tried, and then not share with you the outcome, my level of commitment to this blog wouldn't seem very high, would it?

When our attempts are unsuccessful, I always find myself in the midst of many different questions and emotions: "Why didn't it work this time," "Is there something wrong with me," "Did we do something wrong?" I simultaneously remind myself that Amy and I successfully created a beautiful little boy and I am very able to be pregnant. I also try to remember that we are a powerhouse--we always work hard to get what we want and we are not ones to give up. Although I may not always be victorious on my personal journey to achieve constant (or just frequent) positivity, those few thoughts bring me solace and comfort. I just have to work at it more than most.

As I sit here, faced with another couple weeks of tracking and waiting, I try to look at it as an opportunity to work on things that help me relax: meditation (my last several attempts have left me far from satisfied), keeping up with my blog, and just making it through each day without feeling overly stressed while learning to let the little things go.

Cullen's little brother or sister will be here eventually, it just doesn't seem to be on my time.

The Waiting Is . . .

So we are in the waiting stage of our second attempt; just the fact that I have typed that, knowing full-well anyone in the world could read it, is a huge step for me. When Amy and I were trying to get pregnant with Cullen, the first couple times I was so confident, I would tell EVERYONE with such high hopes. Then I was faced with explaining that I wasn't pregnant two weeks later. So then I stopped talking. But five tries total and Cullen entered our lives . . . We couldn't be happier.
And here we are again. It's surreal at times, although I don't know why, really. It's exciting, happy, stressful, mysterious, fun, and sad (when it doesn't work). I watch an infant in my day care now that Cullen is totally attached to--I love watching him love on her, guard her, and want to help me with every aspect of her care (he's a very good helper!). And I can't help but think, "I can't wait to see him with his baby brother or sister."
So every try causes my hyper-sensitivity to kick into overdrive. "Should I eat this?" "Should I take that medicine?" "What if when I picked that up or bent that way, I caused something to go wrong?" And the most prevalent, "I'm so stressed! What if that is affecting my ability to get pregnant?" Sigh. Every new day brings a myriad of new worries and concerns. But this is me. This was me when I got pregnant with Cullen and it's me now. Being stressed, worrying, it's all a part of my personality. So I'm trying not to fight it anymore. Rather, I'm just trying to accept it. I know we will be a family of four soon (six, including my two stepchildren!), stress and all.
A funny tidbit I'll leave you with: I actually had someone ask me how we get pregnant and when I explained that we use a syringe instead of a penis, they said, "Oh, I thought you had to have surgery or something!" Hmmm . . . Really? Where would people be if they didn't have lesbians to educate them?!!!

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My silly boy!

Just testing mobile blogger!

So I Thought I Had Given Up . . .

Hello, hello, everyone!

So, I wasn't sure I should continue this blog, evidenced by my lack of posts over the last several months, but, alas, I am going to try again.

So, what has happened in the past several months? Well, Cullen is such a big boy; a big boy face, a big boy sound, and a big boy attitude! I knew this was coming. So now, my days are filled with "No" and "Why" and (when I call his name from across the room) a loud and resounding "WHAT?!!!" So sorry to have disturbed you, oh, King Cullen. :-) He is still just as beautiful and his hugs and kisses continue to be the best I've ever received . . .

I have discovered . . . meditation. Ahhh, I may not be that good at it yet, but wow, I feel great when it works. I should have tried this A LOT sooner. Such a Goddess-send when my day is crazy (as it usually is), and I'm about to pull my hair out. Give me five minutes and I'm on my way to nirvana (not quite!) and somewhat total calm. Love it.

My father has been diagnosed with early Alzheimer's, which I try not to think about, as my heart breaks when I do; we'll be trying one of the meds that's available and see how things go from there . . .

And finally, we're trying for our second baby! (Note: Please DO NOT ask me how it is going. I will be sharing what I am comfortable with on my blog or directly with the people I feel most comfortable. Anyone who has been through this process knows there is nothing more aggravating than hearing, "So, are you pregnant yet?" fifty times a day.) A very exciting process which I hope does not take TOO long.

Thanks to those of you who read; please comment so I know you're out there.

Type at you soon!

No One Told Me Being A Mom Makes You Invisible . . .

Ok, I'm just going to dive right into this one . . .

You get pregnant or decide to adopt. Whatever method you choose, you decide to become a parent (ok, sometimes you decide and sometimes fate decides for you. I'm a lesbian--I had to decide). All your wonderful friends rally around you, so ecstatic . . . feeling your belly, talking about the pitter-patter of little feet with you, planning baby showers, just so excited for you. You think, "Wow, I am really lucky. My friends rock my world." You might even invite a friend to be in the room when you give birth, or a whole group of friends to be in the room with you when you and your partner find out if your bundle of joy is a boy or a girl. Your friends tell you things like, "You're just going to have kick us out of your house when the baby's born; we're so excited . . . we're going to be there all the time." You feel so surrounded, so supported.

Then your beautiful, awe-inspiring baby arrives. You are beyond happy, and your friends are still there, visiting you in the hospital and after you get home. Your friends are still around, despite any fears you may have had while waiting for your baby to arrive.

Time marches on, and pretty soon you realize your friends aren't coming around as much . . . then not at all, it seems. You're not really bothered by it at first; your baby consumes you and that's just fine. But then your baby gets a little older, say a year or so, and then all of a sudden you're reading on Facebook how everyone went out to the bar last night and had so much fun. And it hits you: no one invites you anywhere anymore.

I love my son more than my own life; anyone who knows me knows that. But most days, I feel totally unattractive, probably because I only get a shower every couple days. I eat standing up while on the way to do something else baby-related, barely get to use the bathroom by myself and go to the grocery store for social interaction. And I need a night out every once in a great while. But when no one invites you, what to you do?

I feel like these people that used to always be there just operate on assumptions now. The assumption that I can't do anything because I have a baby or that I don't want to do anything. Not to mention hiding behind excuses like, "You don't have to be invited!"

I feel that getting out every once in a while makes me a healthier, happier person, which in turn makes me a better mother to my son (and wife to Amy!). So now I feel like I have a new task to tackle: find new, like-minded friends who understand the demands of parenthood, but I have to find them while I spend 80 hours a week at home running a day care. Hmmm . . . how easy is this going to be?

I don't really think there's a lot of people out there reading me, even though I'd like to think otherwise, but if you are reading this, whether you do follow me or you just happen to stumble upon this, please comment and let me know I'm not alone.

"For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson~

My Baby Keeps On Growing!

So I'm back . . . again. The holidays are here and gone, it's 2010, and what now? I always feel a sense of depression after the holidays, the letdown of it all, I suppose; the fact that Amy, Cullen, and I were all sick for Christmas didn't help. But it's a new year, full of plans and hopes and dreams, a clean slate. One thing that I am super-aware of at the moment is how fast my baby is growing.

Now, obviously, any intelligent person is aware that their baby is constantly growing, from the moment of conception. But for some reason, I seem to be hypersensitive to that fact currently. The growing stack of storage tubs in his closet holding mounds of adorable (and tiny) baby clothes, anxiously awaiting Act II when they can debut on baby brother or sister; the toys (and toys and toys!) constantly being rotated and getting more and more advanced; the growing number of feats he can accomplish, providing us with a longer list of things to look out for (ex. As I exited the bathroom this evening, I happened to glance at the stairs and noticed my baby boy smiling at me through the banister, so proud of himself for independently climbing halfway up the stairs. Yes, we have gates, no it wasn't latched, and thank Goddess he knows how to climb on his hands and knees. We're not perfect, we're parents! [courtesy of Nick Jr.]).

He's so beautiful when he runs across the room, looking back over his shoulder to assure that I am close behind, chasing him, gaining on him. His laughter rings out as he does a 180 and runs into my legs, wanting me to pick him up and snuggle him--which I do, of course. He loves to dance, to any music that comes on and also to Guitar Hero. As soon as he hears his Momma come home from work and call out, "Hello," he could be anywhere in the house, but drops what he's doing and runs towards her voice, laughing the whole way. He climbs on everything in sight at this point and loves to give kisses and hugs. He says, "up" when he wants held and feeds himself with his miniature utensils.

It was kind of funny, an experience I didn't expect, when I was in Pizza Hut last night picking up dinner. I was waiting for our food and I happened to look over and noticed a family with a set of twin boys that had just walked in. The boys were maybe somewhere between 12 and 14, and they were cute, with their reddish-blonde hair and their skater clothes. My chest swelled slightly and my heart ached for Cullen (at home with Momma) as I thought, "He's going to be that big--and bigger!--one day, and my love for him will feel just like this, just the same." He will always be the one I would die to protect, worry incessantly about, and whose world I will always want to be perfect.

What did I do before him? I certainly can't remember . . .