Almost 40 and Ancient

I am almost forty. It's like I woke up one day and went "What the fuck?! Where did time go?" To most of the young gay people forty is ancient: ancient like you were part of the creation and saw the dinosaur extinction. I think being about to turn forty is more traumatic than actually turning forty. They say your forties is the best years of your life; you know who you are, you're settled in your career and you have disposable income that you actually can enjoy spending. I hope all this is true because if it's not I will hunt that person down, who said this, and threaten to kill them to their face. I won't actually kill that person because I am too pretty for jail and have terrible food allergies. Ok, I just made up the food allergies but still, prison food I assume is really bad.

A lot of things change as you approach forty. You realise that you're no longer in your sexual prime, you're sprouting grey hair (even your pubes which is stark reminder that your penis is old too) and you tend to become set in your ways. It's like you have reached a point in your life where you no longer are willing to tolerate shit from other people, you re-evaluate your friendships and attempt to have an uncomplicated life free of bullshit. In essence you are cleaning house in preparation for the next phase making sure you no longer have excessive baggage.  Because frankly who needs it.

The most obvious reminder that I am almost forty is when I drop off or pick up my son from kindergarten. Most parents there have just started their families and are young. Every time I am there I am reminded that I am one of the older parents. You know the ones that had little oopsies. However, I don't particularly care. We are all going through the same shit with our kids and we can stand in solidarity with just a sympathetic look or a nod of the head. The scary thing is that when my son finishes school I will be fifty six. That sounds ancient to me now but I guess only until I turn fifty. Oh dear god, the thought of that makes my head and Botox hurt.

Being almost forty and having a two year old also comes with both positives and negatives. The positive side of it is that I have more patience and have learned to pick my battles. The negative side is that I have never been a person who yells or even raise my voice, but now I am. I have patience but it is constantly tested. After the forth "No, don't, stop it" I tend to go into angry dad mode and my commands turn into "NOOO! STOP IT!!! I AM GOING TO COUNT TO THREE!", but three always come and everything calms down. Then five minutes later we are at the exact same situation. I am now a screamer.

I have also caught myself saying things like "Just wait until your dad comes home" and then immediately thought 'God I sound like my mother!".  

I am now at the age where I don't take myself that seriously anymore. A good example is when my two year old throws the mother of all tantrums. Depending on my day I will throw a tantrum as well mimicking his. Usually he reacts with total confusions like he's thinking "What the fuck is wrong with you?" normally this reaction causes his tantrum to seize out of pure shock. After all I'm the parent. The good thing is that we both got rid of our frustration in a "healthy" manner and I still maintain a small degree of parental control. I have not tried this in a shop yet. But when it happens I am sure it will have the same effect.  I just hope when it happens the people who witness it have children because they will be the only ones that would understand.

Almost turning forty also meant that I lost a couple of pets that I had since my twenties. In the last year I lost my two cats due to old age. It was sad as I had them for fifteen years. This also reminded me that life is short.

Turning forty has also seen my body go to hell. I got fat. Loosing weight is fucking hard. Diets can only do so much but you need to exercise too. I am not a fan of exercise at all. However, I did start. You see I don't want to fall one day and break a hip. I also don't want the get obese and have to be removed from my house with a crane. So I do my thirty minutes on my stairmaster every day. I despise that machine more than I hate homophobes and I have a mostly hate relationship with it. But the machine that was designed by the devil himself is yielding some results and I continue to torture myself daily.  Its like I am atoning for all my sins of my twenties and thirties.

I am thirty nine and one year away from the big 4 0. In a strange way I am looking forward to it. I have come to accept that I am ageing and that Botox and facial creams can only do so much to reverse the ageing process. I have no wrinkles or frown lines on my face but I am going grey and packed on a few pounds. As I am preparing for forty I hope I will be older and hopefully wiser. I am determined to enter that phase of my life with enthusiasm and glee. Well, I will try to anyway.

Till next time.

Adoption: Our Journey.

November is Adoption Awareness Month. This has a very special meaning for us. If it wasn't for adoption we would have never been blessed with our beautiful son. Adoption is not an easy road to travel. It has many emotional ups and downs but in the end of the day it is all worth it.

Our adoption journey is similar to many other LGBT families. Sure there might be a few small difference, here and there, but essentially we all have traveled down the same road. If you are thinking of adoption and want to see what it all entails (from when you decided to adopt until you are a parent) you can get a glimpse by reading about our adoption journey. 

Click here to Read about Our adoption journey.

The Illusion of Willpower

So I should have stopped smoking a year ago. But I haven't because I have the willpower of puppy having a treat waved in front of it.  This is not to say I don't have any willpower whatsoever because I do, just not with things I have to give up though. This is also why I suck a diets.

Making me give up carbs (anything potato or resembling a sandwich) is like asking me to stop breathing. Sure I can survive for a while but then I start to negotiate with my body and/or myself. For example, the Irish went through a potato famine and potatoes were the only thing that helped pull them through. Do I really want to punish potatoes now after all the good they have done in the world? Or, if a potato chip is broken it looses all its calories; AND, my favorite excuse - carbs don't exist on weekends.

Willpower is something you need when you have kids. You must be able to stay focus while there are chaos around you and stick to your guns when things get though.  Also, you need to stay strong and follow through on the kinda threats your mother use to make which you inadvertently now inherited from her.  Sometimes the following through on your threats is the tough part.  This is also not the part when you say ahhh because then you're just as bad as he is.

My son is a little charmer and manipulative little shit. He knows exactly how to twist my arm in getting what he wants and getting away with murder. When he knows he is about to get a hiding he will look at me with those puppy eyes (I'm using this reference again because I really want a puppy) and just as you are about to spank him he would say "I love you" in that adorable voice he has. Now I ask you, how do you give your child a spanking when he does that?

My son is also a great analytical thinker and plans his mischief a head of time. He has a red "time out" chair because sometimes a spanking is not appropriate (if you're a parent you will know exactly what I mean). He's really good with timeouts because he has had a lot of practice. When he is now planning on being naughty he goes and fetches his red chair before he does what he is not suppose to. Yes, I know most of you are going "ahhh" but it really is, again, not an ahhh moment when he breaks something or spill juice all over a table and your iPhone. He then gets a time out for two minutes during which he is suppose to think about his sins.  However, I know that is exactly what he is not doing as he is probably planning his next mischievous adventure.

The other area of my life where I lack willpower is with animals. I have had a whole zoo of pets until half of them died of old age. We now only have three cats left and I am suffering from empty-nest syndrome. However, my husband has said if I bring one more stray home or makeup a story that a perfectly healthy animal was abandoned, when it clearly isn't true, that he will divorce me. He won't really. I think. Sure he will be fucking pissed off at me first but he always gets over it and falls in love with my strays. However, this time I am applying my willpower. How long it will last I don't know.

In the past I have gotten away with lies. I would tell my husband a cat or a rabbit was homeless or about to get killed. He would then ask me where the animal in question was and I would say the pet shop. At this point my husband would point out, in grievous error, that they then are not homeless. However that argument is technically flawed because if an animal is in a pet shop they are "technically" homeless and in danger. How come people don't understand this logic is because they in all probability hate animals and can't stand puppies and kittens. AND they should be ashamed of themselves!

These days I apply willpower selectively as all of you should. It's quite liberating not always being sure how your day or week will pan out with my philosophy but hey, living dangerously has never killed anyone. Ok, realistically it has but I am not talking about those people because they did stupid things. Y'all should not do stupid things that will get yourself killed and if you do, I take no responsibility whatsoever for your actions. Just saying.

Till next time.

I am a winner, mostly.

So I won an award last week for the Best LGBT Blog in the SA Blog Awards.  It’s kind of like winning a People’s Choice Award but you don’t get a statuette, a ceremony or given an opportunity to thank whoever helped you (or who did not) become successful on the internet.  Also, it’s for writing a blog.  And yes, there are still people doing that.  You are reading one right now.  Winning something like this is flattering but to be honest, it’s not like my blog is my life, my reason for being.  It’s something I do and enjoy and something I am glad you enjoy reading.

This is not my first stint with the SA Blog Awards.  In the past I was runner up in the Best Political Blog and Most Controversial Blog categories; Both categories being somewhat strange to have been in:  My blog is not about politics nor is it controversial but I will take what I can get.  I am not picky although I would have preferred winning money.  My lifestyle does not just happen or come cheap and someone needs to pay the bills.

Speaking of my lifestyle, having kids is expensive.  Since we got our son finances have been tight.  With school and all the other expenses kids come with (and there are many) I do not understand how people with more than one child cope.  If having kids was an actual job I would not have taken it.  Firstly, it doesn’t pay. at. all.  Secondly, you get no time off and the hours are brutal.  Your boss is also demanding and prone to throw tantrums (and sometimes you) when you do not do things right.  I once saw a YouTube video about the hardest job on earth and I can now totally relate.

Our son has entered the terrible two’s a year early.  He has learned that he can throw tantrums if he doesn’t get what he wants.  The first time he threw a tantrum I just stood there thinking “What the fuck?  Is he dying?” and the second time I was like “Is he having a seizure?  Do I need to put a wooden spoon between his jaws?”  And the third time I just decided to ignore it and put the music louder in the car.  And no, this doesn’t make me a bad parent – I googled it!

There are a plethora of reasons why our son would lose his shit.  Mostly, it is when you take something out of his hands that he is not supposed to play with.  This includes remote controls, iPhones, iPads, a cat that is being unintentionally choked and anything made of glass.  He is also prone to throwing thing in the toilet, mostly electronics and expensive and hard to replace items.  The newest thing these days is that our floor is made of lava and his car seat is a monster that is trying to eat him.  Well not actually, but I am trying to think like a one year old.  Also, a one year old make no sense, is irrational and highly volatile when feeling constricted by the term “no”.

There are some days when I pick our son up from school and it’s when I try to strap him in his car seat that thing just go south.  When he is not in the mood to be strapped in he will fight me and he is fucking strong in both mind and body.  Getting him into the seat and strapping him in is like wrestling with an angry blubbering octopus.  When this happens I try to keep my shit together because I don’t want all the soccer moms to judge me.  I would just stick my head out of the car, smile and say “I am just waiting for him to finish his tantrum then I will have mine”.  Sometimes I swear they think I am serious, but when our son is not the only one that doesn’t want to be eaten by the car seat monster I feel relieved:  the soccer moms must then decide who to judge and my chances are 50/50, which are some good odds.

Our son also now has a pet name “monkey”.  This is because he has the ability to cling to us like a little monkey and sometimes trying to put him down is a nightmare.  He will throw a tantrum like he is dying and cling to us like his life depends on it.  Just the other day I was busy in the kitchen and I had to put him down.  It was a fight, he cried and I decided that he would be an only child.  When plan A didn’t work and realizing that I was not going to pick him up he resorted to Plan B – clinging to my leg.  Do you know how difficult it is to cook with a 12kg child clinging to your leg refusing to let go?  It is near impossible.  Also, that is why I burned dinner.

Getting back to the Award I won, being a blogger can sometimes be thankless.  But when I get some positive feedback about my blog on my fan page it makes it all worthwhile.  I would like to thank everyone who voted for my blog in the SA Blog Awards, without you all of this would not have been possible.  Lastly, if you are reading my parenting blog posts and it is scaring you from having children, don’t be.  It is the most rewarding thing you will ever do and the rewards are endless.  Except 2am in the morning when you are awoken by crying, then not so much.  Or if you have to change a nappy right after breakfast that makes you gag; then it kind of sucks.

Till next time.

My son’s teachers are going to hate me.

Last year hubby and I started looking for kindergartens to enroll our son in for this year.  Being gay parents with an interracial child we were cognizant of the fact that we would have to choose very carefully.  We are not your typical …uhm… cookie cutter family.  We did not want our son to experience intolerance or discrimination of any kind and we wanted him to be in an environment that is open minded, conducive to empowering him and to be fully integrated.  Also, the school would have to tolerate me.  I have been told that I am an overbearing parent with the potential of driving our son’s teachers completely nuts.  I am embarrassed to say that this is totally true and accurate.

In this day and age there is still discrimination prevalent and schools are not compelled to accept a child for enrollment.  They can decline an application for any reason without providing you with an explanation.  If you know me you will realize that this makes me very uncomfortable and somewhat rebellious.  I mean how any school could decline our application would be a mystery.  Sure we are a gay couple with an interracial child, but this only makes us a fabulous rainbow family.  And I know all parents think their children are the prettiest and smartest but in our case this is undeniably true.  Any school would be doing themselves an injustice by letting an opportunity pass by to be graced with our son’s presence.  See this is where the overbearing side manifests.

After a few phone calls a school was recommended to us by my sister-in-law as her son was already attending it.  Granny and my sister-in-law were already familiar with the school and we thought it would be nice if our son and his cousin attending school at the same place.  The selling point of the school to me was the fact that they had a petting zoo.  It’s kind of a dream of mine to have a petting zoo of my own, one day, which includes a rescued gay donkey called Theodor the 3rd.  I have also daydreamed about quitting my job and joining Kazakhstan’s male synchronized swimming team but some dreams will just stay that - dreams.

We phoned the school and made an appointment with the principal for “the interview”.  The afternoon of the interview we arrived at the school on time, which is rare these days.  Our son has the ability to screw up our knack for being punctual.  We met the principal and we started chatting.  I could tell that she was immensely impressed by our super smart and well behaved son.  Well, that was until he started misbehaving and chewing on things on her desk which I chose to ignore because if we didn’t make an issue of it then hopefully she wouldn’t either.  See this is where my years of studying psychology finally came in handy in a non-professional setting.  Either that or I was just lying to myself again.  Something I do frequently as to not hurt my own feelings.  I never said I was totally sane, now did I?

The first thing she asked us was if our son was adopted and I was all like “No, he is our biological son!  Can’t you tell that I am still struggling to lose the baby weight?”  But I didn’t because I realized pissing off the principal might not be the best way of getting our application accepted.  Then she brought up the subject of us being gay and again I was all like “No, technically we are straight.  I was born female and had a sex change” but then I told myself to shut the fuck up before what hubby has dubbed my “foot-in-mouth disease” screws this up for us.

We went through all the different challenges that lay ahead of us as a gay couple raising an interracial child.  We discussed how the school will handle it when our son starts to ask questions that could make people uncomfortable, which he probably will if he takes after me.  I fully expect our son to grow up to speak his mind, be confident in himself and to call a spade a spade.  If he has a slight case of foot-in-mouth disease I will be proud.  I would have raised him well.  The interview went glowingly, mostly because I hardly spoke.  I just let all my paternal energy shine through and prayed that our son doesn’t break anything expensive in her office.  After the interview she took us on a tour of the school.

We were shown where our son’s class would be, met his teacher and was showed their play area.  The teacher looked a bit timid and I remember wondering if she would survive the first day with our son in her class.  As we were shown the play area my parental alarm system went haywire as I spotted sharp edges, steps and moveable pot plants.  I wanted to wrap the whole area in padding because god forbids our son gets hurt.  Then I remembered to just breathe and centered myself.  I also reminded myself that I cannot wrap our son in bubble wrap and that getting hurt is part of life.  As long as no blood is drawn or bones are broken because that is when I will lose my shit completely.

I was impressed with the school’s security and the fact that they have CCTV cameras everywhere.  Soon we will be able to log into our son’s class’ cameras and will be able to watch what he is doing.  The poor teacher’s life will never be the same again after that.  She can be expecting quite a few texts and calls from me.

Our son started school a couple of weeks ago and he seems to love it.  He is enjoying his friends and all the stimulation he is getting.  In the afternoon I can see that he had a good day because he is exhausted.  His teacher says that he is a very busy child (which in our house is also code for naughty) but that generally he is a joy to have in her class.  She is an excellent liar.  On his first day she texted us that our son was doing well and that he made friends.  I was happy to hear that and pleased that he was finally in a good school.  What the future holds no one knows.  Only time will tell but I really think his teachers will start hating me once my true colors come out.

Till next time.

Shit they don’t tell you before you become a parent

There is some stuff I wish people would have told me before we became parents.  Not that “it will change your life” nonsense because, you would have to be mentally challenged if you don’t realize that.  Also, then it might not be the best idea for you to have children and perhaps you should first start with a small pet or a house plant.  The things I wish I were told before becoming a father is not unlike that T&C’s and/or fine prints you find in contracts.  Or the leaflets you find accompanying your medication.  We all know that we really should read them but, very few of us do.  So in case any of my readers are planning on or are becoming parents here are a few things you need to know and/or consider.

Children are a lot of work and you will never have any free time again.  Like. In. Forever.  Children require your full attention and when you don’t give it to them you can expect the apocalypse to happen.  Our son’s favorite thing to do right before he throws a tantrum is to pull his dummy out of his mouth hurling it at me or anywhere that will have the most dramatic effect, followed by a quivering lip promptly followed by inhaling a deep breath right before crying and/or screaming.  This normally happens if I take too long to tend to his needs or don’t pick him up even though my hands are full.  But giving them your full attention is not just about attending to their wants and needs, it is also crucial in keeping these little beasties alive.

Whenever your house gets really quiet you should know baby/toddler is up to something.  I have found that if I turn my back on our son, even for one second, or leave the room to go fetch something that it is enough time for him to not only be a danger to himself but also to everyone else.  He has almost electrocuted himself, have a dining room chair fall on him, the cat’s have been molested by him and he is known to love playing with his own vomit or pulling things off coffee tables, chairs and couches.  Also, playpens (or like I call them “baby jails”) only work up to a point; the point being when your child learns that the playpen is not nailed to the floor and that it can be picked up and manually moved.  Never underestimate the resourcefulness of a baby/toddler.  They are master escape artists and strategic thinkers.  They are smarter than you think and they know our weaknesses.

Children will also ruin your sex life.  When you have a child, gone are those days of spontaneity and now you will have to plan shit.  Normally the best time to have sex would be when baby is sleeping or napping.  So you have to work around their routine.  However, babies have a sixth sense for things like this and don’t be surprised when baby cries in the nursery while you are midsession in the bedroom.  Then you have to drop everything, compose yourself only to find out the big issue interrupting your coitus is his dummy being five inches away from your son and he is too lazy to reach for it himself.  Then the mood is spoiled and sexy time is over.  Also, when you come home from work and after having fed, bathed and put baby to bed you don’t feel sexy.  Mostly you are just too tired.  But sex is not the only thing your precious bundle of joy will ruin, there is more.

Your house will never be clean ever again.  Trying to clean up after your child is a futile exercise.  And if you suffer from OCD, like I do, it is the cruelest and also the best exposure therapy there is.  Our house used to be super clean but now it no longer is.  Just this past weekend we had our son’s baptism at home.  The house was semi clean; you know the kind of clean so that people don’t judge you but the kind of dirty that make you feel ashamed of yourself.  But after the baptism our house was the kind of dirty that freaked my OCD the fuck out.  However, I did nothing about it.  I knew our housekeeper was coming on Monday and I stopped caring if she judged me or what she thought of us four months ago already.  Children can be freeing like that.

Your child will also ,at some point, embarrass you in public.  Just a few weeks ago I was filling a script at our pharmacy.  Just as I reached the counter to pay and opened my wallet our son decided to vomit all over it and the counter.  Having been used to vomit by then I thought nothing of it,  so I grabbed a couple of tissues and wiped off my wallet and very moist credit card.  With the card having had small pieces of chicken and carrot on it with saliva.  I handed the card to the cashier and cleaned the counter.  I did not look up or made eye contact at all, rather opting to pretend that this was perfectly normal.  Obviously, the cashier took my card and swiped it with great trepidation and disgust.  But hey, what else was I suppose to do?  Was I expected to do an “I am sorry dance” and say three Hail Mary’s?

Babies and toddlers are nudists at heart and they have no shame.  Our son hates clothes and is at his happiest when he is naked.  This is why he loves bath time and being lathered up with lotion after but, as soon as he realizes that all that was actually building up to getting dressed then the production of “Clothes are from the Devil” starts.  He will cry and try and make it impossible to dress him.  Putting clothes on our son is like trying to dress an angry octopus with one hand while being blind folded.  I am also sure it burns a couple of thousand kilojoules which I don’t mind, I do want to lose some more weight.  And this leads me to my next point – distracting your child with illusions and trickery.

I have found the best way to get my son dressed or to change his nappy without fighting with an octopus is by distracting him with a toy.  It occupies him and lets me do what needs to get done.  Also, sometimes he would want to put things in his mouth off the floor that is just nasty and that is where magic comes in.  The item will then mysteriously disappear and as if by magic be replaced with something more appropriate.  All our remote controls also, according to him, magically disappear when he wants to play with them.  But in reality they are merely hidden behind the scatter cushions on our couch.  Fortunately, the bargaining and negotiating skills that we will soon need are still some time away.

Being a parent is hard work and people don’t tell you the exact details of this until after you have a child.  Perhaps this is why we as a species are not extinct yet.  As a parent you need some exceptional skills to be successful, you have to be a magician, a liar, hostage negotiator, psychic and have nerves of steel.  You must also have eyes in the back of your head and supersonic hearing.  That being said, I have learned so much about myself since becoming a father.  I have also learned that the one thing that is true about parenthood is that it is the most rewarding experience I have ever had in my life.  I will not exchange this experience for anything.

Till next time.

In My Shoes: Stories of Youth with LGBT Parents

In My Shoes is a documentary in which fie young people who are children of LGBT parents give yo a chance to walk in their shoes - to hear their own views on marriage, making change and what it means to be a family.

We got "The Call"

After ten months of an agonizing wait it finally happened. This week we got “The Call”. The call we were hoping and waiting for. The call that would say that our lives will now forever be changed. The call that would make hubby and I and our family so incredible happy. The call that said we are now going to be a family.

When we started on our adoption journey in August of 2013 we entered into the process being very optimistic. However, we soon learned that adoption is a very emotional process fraught with emotional pitfalls that one should navigate around with the greatest of care. I will not lie and say that the process was easy because it was not.

We have had some fights along the way. Hubby and I have fought with each other. We have fought with our social worker. We have even fought with ourselves. Mostly this happened out of sheer frustration and most of the fights hubby and I had were over stupid things that we now look back on going “What the hell was wrong with us”.

The hardest part of the adoption process is not the screening, the psychometric assessments, the interviews, home visit or panel interview. The fact that adoption is not a cheap venture was also not such an issue. The hardest part of the adoption process is, after all is said and done and you are finally declared paper pregnant, the long wait. The waiting can kill you. Or possibly drive you nuts.

We have been paper pregnant since November 2013 and to be honest very few days passed since then that I didn’t think about whether our baby was born yet. Very few conversation between hubby and I did not include the adoption in them. So we did what we could to occupy our minds. We prepared the nursery, bought all the things we could buy that we would need. We even had our baby shower in February this year.  

It was like we were psychically willing our child into this world. We dreamed about babies. We noticed the gazillions of people with babies, gay and straight, in the shops and at restaurants. Isn’t it weird how you all of a sudden see babies everywhere while you are waiting for yours? It was like we were being tortured and tormented by the universe as we were reminded around every corner of that we were waiting for.

Then on Thursday, as I was heading to my Botox appointment, I got the call. Well, actually I got two. The first one was to inform me that we have a baby and the second one was to arrange for a meeting for the next day. As hubby’s Botox appointment was before mine I sent him a text that read “Wait for me outside and under NO circumstances can you leave. This is important!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Hubby probably thought I discovered something about our plastic surgeon online that freaked me out. Or that I WebMD self-diagnosed myself with the Ebola Virus again. But this time it obviously was nothing like that at all. I have not self-diagnosed myself with an exotic disease in ages. As I arrived at our surgeon’s office hubby was waiting for me and was all like “Are you dying again” and I was like “We are all going to die someday. You are stuck with me and I am going to live well into my nineties and you are not allowed to die before me!”

Then I told him the great news. He was in tears which also almost made me cry but I never do that in public. Very few people have ever seen me cry. Also, when I cry I prefer to do it in private as it ain’t pretty people. It’s like my gift to society. You’re welcome.

We were both overjoyed. After ten months we are finally going to be parents to a three month old little boy. As I started wrapping my brain around the idea the rest of that day I was overcome with both excitement and being utterly terrified. I mean, I have never had a baby. I have only changed a nappy once in my life and generally babies scared me. Now I am going to have one of my own. Will I even know what to do? What if I fuck up? What if I am a bad parent? Can I afford all the therapy my child may someday need because he has an eccentric dad?

After freaking out a realization hit me. We are not the first parents to go through this. All parents go through this with their first child. This is probably exactly what they must have felt like; except they are not my kind of crazy. The sense that other people before me suffered gave me a sense of relief.

Also, our son is three months old and past most of the crappy and awkward baby stuff newborns go through. He is still a baby and I am sure we will have plenty of sleepless nights ahead but I plan on savoring and enjoying every second of it. Yes, even if I am covered in baby poop at 3 o’clock in the morning and he won’t stop crying. I will so Blog and Facebook that. With pictures.

On Tuesday we will be fetching our son and I cannot wait. After the meeting we will have this afternoon we will be booking flights as soon as we find out what our court date and time is. It is exciting times in our household. The cats and bunnies have no idea what they are in for. The whole lot of us will be sleep deprived and our little zoo is now getting a little prince. He is the blessing that we longed for. I cannot believe this is finally happening. I. Am. So. Happy.

To read more about our adoption journey click HERE

Till next time.

Adoption and a Kleptomaniac Cat.

I am glad to report that I don’t think we have driven our social worker insane just yet (she might beg to differ).  Being overachievers with most aspects in our lives, in this life event we are no different.  Like I wrote before, everything has now been done and dusted for phase I of the adoption process and we are now eagerly waiting for phase II to start.  Also, not being the most patient people on this rock we call earth the waiting has been somewhat, how do I put it, torturous.  Not having gone through this particular process before I did take some time to get to know some people who have. With some of the conversation I had I have come to the conclusion that the adoption process is specifically designed to test not only your true determination to have a child but also your emotional and psychological readiness to have one.  Let me explain…

Even before we met with our adoption agency hubby and I did our research.  We wanted to make sure we choose the best possible one and that we would not be turned away because we are a homosexual couple.  Luckily, one of our friends had recently adopted through PROCARE and I could not find anything negative about them on the Internet.  So by the time we actually had our first meeting with them we knew exactly what documents we would need and we had an idea what to expect.  At our first meeting we had 90% of all the documents that were required and after that meeting we also made sure we had the necessary funds to pay for the whole process and prepare for the baby.  The adoption process is not cheap.  What we did not count on was that there would be long waiting period between phase 1 and phase II.  We thought that because we were proactive and organized that this would also expedite the red tape part that is the screening phase.  But we were wrong.

We have found that after you have finished everything that is under your control you end up waiting for the next phase to begin.  During this period you also have some time to think and reflect on what you are actually busy with and it is then when all those questions and doubts start swarming through your mind.  Questions like:  Are we really ready for this?  What if we suck at being parents?  Our lives are about to take a 180 degree turn, are we ready for all the sacrifices that we will have to make?  Can we really afford to raise a child?  What if our baby does not bond with us?  What if we finish the screening and no birthmother chooses us?  What if we encounter discrimination because not only are we gay but we also have a child from a different race?  And the “what if’s” goes on and on and on…  Both of us even ended up dreaming about it.

You can sit around and ask yourself a thousand questions, and I promise you we did.  But in the end we did realize that even though we are, at times, petrified (which we heard was totally normal) we are just as excited and determined to have a child as ever, even if our lives are under a microscope and our future family is in the hands of strangers.  It’s natural to have some self-doubt especially when you are going to be a first time parent to a baby but hey, that’s why there are Google, prenatal/postnatal classes and family.  Between these three you are bound to get some great advice.  I am looking into booking some postnatal classes for hubby and I to go to.  Both of us know how to change a nappy and the correct way to bath a baby but getting a refresher course and also some baby CPR training cannot do any harm.  Besides I think all future parents should attend these types of classes.  Also, seeing as phase II of the adoption process is out of our control we also decided to start focusing on more tangible things, like the nursery.

Some people think we are mad for having started with the nursery so soon but I think it has helped us tremendously with the psychological preparation and with the waiting.  We have done some shopping around and about two weeks ago we bought a cot, compactum, rocking chair and curtains.  All of which are being delivered this weekend except the curtains, which we have already put up.  We are slowly getting the nursery ready, with the emphasis on slowly.  Our cats have also caught wind that something is going on and that it relates to the guest bedroom which we are now converting into a nursery.  Some of them are more perturbed by this than the others and their ways of acting out I also found rather queer.

Last weekend hubby and I decided to put up the curtains in the nursery.  Naturally all our cats came to observe, mostly because I think they expected one of us to fall off a ladder and planned on having a good laugh at our expense.  Unfortunately for them that did not happen.  We spent a good half an hour making sure that the curtain railing was level.  Hubby measured.  Re-measured and finally committed to drill the necessary holes.  It resulted in some foul language and several four letter words.  You see the bricks the builders used on that wall apparently were not of the best quality and hubby had an extremely difficult time which he freely vocalized.  Eventually the railing was up but then we realized something was not quite right.  The railing did not look level.  Then we realized the wall was skew which opened up a whole OCD can of worms.

To the eye the railing was not level so we had a choice:  We can adjust the railing to “look level” and live with curtains that wasn’t OR we could leave the railing looking skew (but know that it wasn’t) and also have the curtains hanging level.  This seemed like a choice made up by the devil and where nobody wins.  Eventually we decided that we knew the railing was level and left it the way it was.  In the mean time one of our cats decided to start acting out by starting to steal things from the neighbors and leaving it on our bed.  He clearly knows something is up and feels threatened in some way, and in cat language bringing us gifts that are not dripping with blood and guts will win him favor with us.

About two weeks ago our cat started leaving innocuous items on our bed.  Mostly gardening accessories.  At first I thought nothing of it and just thought it was stuff that he picked up in our garden and was playing with.  But as the items started getting bigger and looking less familiar I realized it wasn’t any of our stuff.  Some of the latest items he stole from the neighbor(s) were a garden hose spray nozzle, small gardening fork, a bra (which clearly was not ours), socks, a glove and a Barbie doll’s arm.  The problem is that I don’t know how to give these items back to the neighbor(s) without having to explain to them how I ended up with them.  So I just threw them back into their yard hoping that if it’s not theirs that they would think their pets are kleptomaniacs and not suspect ours.  Not the best solution, I know, but I don’t know of any cat psychologists in my area or how to explain to my neighbor(s) that our cat is the neighborhood thief.  I mean we raised him to know better! Don’t judge me!

So not only are we stressing about the adoptions our animals are also sensing something big is about to happen and are misbehaving accordingly.  I am not sure exactly how long the adoption process is still going to take or how long it will be until we start with and complete phase II, but in the mean time we are preparing as best we can.  This is an exciting, frustrating, emotional and harrowing time on so many different levels, as it should be.  After all this is no small step to take or decision to make.  We are taking it each day at a time, some feel longer than others, but we know that we will get there in the end.  Also, I think our cat might end up on cat Prozac.

To follow our progress with regards to our adoption just click on #adoption to read all about it.

Till next time.

I Have CDO.

You all know that I suffer from a mild case of OCD.  Well, if you didn’t you do now.  And with mild, I mean I don’t have to count shit or have little routines that make me late for work.  I am usually late for work due to my cats, because they can be assholes sometimes.  A good example of my OCD is like the other evening:  I got up at 1am to go rinse out the dirty coffee mugs in the sink.  I could hear little crusts forming on the bottom of the mugs, which drives me insane, and also I had to pee.

Now that we are busy with the adoption process certain parts of my OCD are in overdrive in ways I did not expect.  I have learned through therapy that I have some “control issues” but I like to refer to it as “being organized”.  It’s all just semantics really.  Because if you are not organized that is how wars start and how the apocalypse happens.  Having now completed Phase I of the adoption process I don’t know who is more annoyed, my husband or our social worker.  And I can’t help feeling like I may be the cause of some that.

Firstly, even though I absolutely despise red tape and bureaucracy and think it was invented by Lucifer, I am really awesome at it; partly because I am a persistent and stubborn bitch, and also because I am fluent in bureaucracy.  It’s like when you travel to a foreign country, if you don’t speak the native language you are somewhat fucked.  Well, bureaucracy is no different.  The trick is to just speak the language of governmental employees in a way they are more likely to respond to positively.  The secret is being caring and finding new innovative ways of bypassing the black hole that is the dreaded mailroom.  The mailroom is the place 90% of governmental correspondence goes to die!

Part of Phase 1 of our adoption process was to obtain Police Clearances stating that we are not axe murderers and National Child Protection Register Clearances saying we are not pedophiles or something vile like that.  With the Police Clearances it was easy as I knew some people who work there.  So I could track the process and even though we received no special favors, at least I knew exactly what was going on the whole time.  With the Child Protection Register it was a different story.  Being allergic to snail mail, because it is no longer 1964, I spent a good hour on the Internet and on the phone getting a contact number and an email address of a person who deals with these clearances.  I finally found a lady and let’s call her Beth.  Beth sounded like she was recovering from the flu and a bad case of job dissatisfaction when I spoke to her and we spoke on the phone at least once a week and corresponded via email regularly.  I managed to get our clearances in two weeks.  Which is a record; however there was one little snag.

You see, when Beth told me that our clearances were processed and finalized, she also told me there was an issue and my call was transferred to the Deputy Head of her department.  He was pissed off at me!  Apparently his department has not yet come into the 21^st Century and email submissions were “unacceptable, unorthodox and irregular”.  After asking him why he was so negative he rather rudely told me that they had made an exception for us “this one time!!!” and that in future all submissions were to be submitted to their mailroom “AND. NOT. VIA. EMAIL.”  He didn’t want to hear about how mail in their mailroom didn’t want to die and how depressed the mailroom staff must be because he transferred me back to Beth in mid sentence.  Beth, on the other hand clearly craved positive human contact and we chatted for a while before she wished me luck with our adoption.  I still worry about Beth a little and we still mail each other.

The other paperwork for Phase 1 of the adoption was a breeze but we did have some trouble with the last aspect which was our Adoption Profile Book.  When we finished it and got the printed copy back I was displeased and I think my first words after paging through it were “What the fuck?!” There were some formatting issues and page layout issues in the book that gave me hives.  I mean, the book was not perfect like it was on the computer and, like I said before, if your book sucks then you are totally screwed!  So we had a long hard and sometimes boisterous time redrafting the book.  Formatting issues were corrected, some spelling was changed and some photos removed and others added.  We reworked the book up until the point when we were literally sick of it.  I am not sure if the book is perfect now, but the last draft was printed and hubby, I and the petting zoo signed off on it.  Then hubby took it to the social worker.

Apparently we (mostly I) are overachievers and the social worker refused to take the book.  She said that the book formed part of Phase II of the adoption process and that we should hold on to it until after our panel interview.  So, we completed Phase I and didn’t even know it and now we are anxiously waiting for the start of Phase II.  I am fully expecting to be poked and prodded physically, emotionally and psychologically more than your standard Alien Abduction, but I am sure in the end it will be all worth it.  In the mean time we have cleared out the closets in what will become the nursery and started planning what we need to buy.  We have lists, because lists prevent wars and the apocalypse and I have CDO, which is the same as OCD but the letters are in order as they should be.  For this, I apologize to our Social Worker in advance.  And if you are reading this, how about speeding up Phase II already?  I do have your number you know.  Don’t worry, I am only kidding.  Or am I?

Till next time.

The Bombshell!

It’s official and I won’t keep anyone in suspense any longer. Hubby and I have decided to have a baby. There, now it’s been said out load and this is for real. We have been mulling on this for quite some time now, but only recently vocalized our desire to be parents. It’s a huge decision to make, a gigantic step to take and an enormous responsibility which will last a life time. Being gay, wanting a baby and having one, unfortunately is not simple. But we have set sail and this is how our journey starts.

Never have I once thought I’d even utter the words “I want a baby”. I’m not the maternal type and I always said I didn’t want children. But life is queer and has a peculiar sense of irony. You see all of this have changed and the urge to have a child now burns deep inside me. I think my husband describes it best: The urge to have children is like a deep primordial drive that unceremoniously gets triggered by an almost extrasensory calling from the abyss – the calling of a child, a child that is destined to be yours.

At first I ignored this strange longing feeling. I mean I am happy with my life just the way it is. My life is my own and I am only responsible for one. Then my dreams got flooded with paternalistic symbolism and the crevices of my subconscious mind determined to ignite my latent caregiver instinct into a flame that burns brighter each day. Coincidently, the same was happening to my husband only he was quicker to see. Denial is a tool I wield with great comfort, but even denial is not strong enough to fight this.

So last week, hubby and I had a heart-to-heart chat, late at night. You know that time of night where you are too tired not to be honest with yourself and my denial lost its grip and I could see clearly. We both wanted a child. Being the practical one, analytical one and devil’s advocate in our marriage, I took us through the gauntlet of pros and cons of trying to have and eventually having a child. The changes and challenges we will face are vast. But having considered all the implications and practicalities, we both concurred this is what we wanted.

Being gay, I think, the reasons I wanted to convince myself that children would not be destined for me is the fact that society still have a long way to go towards acceptance and tolerance. There will always be pockets of society that will not condone gays having children. Many stigmas still exisits when a child have same sex parents, the stigma that we cannot raise healthy children, the stigma that we aren’t good parents and the stigma that children raised in a gay families sexual identities will be influenced negatively.

Moreover, I feared that if we ever wanted a child our friends and families would not approve and we would lose their support. Boy was I wrong. Hubby and I decided that before we even start looking into our options, we would ask for his parents’ blessing. My father-in-law didn’t approve of our marriage and it took him years to come to terms with and accept it. Now, we were about to tell him he may become a grandfather. Admittedly we were nervous as hell! So during Sunday lunch we dropped a bombshell and expected a prolonged uncomfortable silence. But what followed was amazingly touching. Instead of berating our decision, we received their sincere blessing. My sister, brother-in-law and close friends followed all of whom showed us overwhelming support.

With the blessings and support of those we care for and care for us, we have begun our journey. We will start looking into our options – adoption or surrogacy! Neither hubby nor I are very keen on the adoption route. I know it may sound selfish but we both strongly feel we want a child that’s ours. Surrogacy is no simpler than adoption and most certainly not cheaper either. But I am sure there is a woman out there somewhere, a woman who will perform the most unselfish act of all, a woman who will give us the greatest gift life has to offer – a child of our own. Not many people out there will look past the fact that we are a gay married couple, and I am sure some of our efforts to find a suitable surrogate will be negatively influenced by this. But hey, a baby is a miracle and I do believe in miracles.

There is quite a journey ahead of us, and as I realized this week there are still a lot of mountains to climb and prejudice to concur, but we will do this. We will persevere and we will find our child who has been calling for us. It may not happen next week or next month or even next year, but it will and I am looking forward for my life no longer to be my own.

Till next time.

The View: Gay Adoption

Fairy Godparents

In life there are many momentous occasions; occasions that signifies milestones in our lives. Weddings, funerals and the birth of a child are just a few such examples. This past weekend I attended the baby shower of a friend who will be bringing a bundle of joy into this world in August. While sitting there watching the celebration, surrounded by crying babies and the pitter-patter of small feet I couldn’t help but ponder whether parenthood would one day befall me and whether I wanted any children of my own.

My husband and I have been asked many times whether we have considered having children. Quite a queer question if you think about it; we can’t have kids the natural way and believe me we try. If we want kids we would either have to adopt or make use of a surrogate. The plus side of using a surrogate is the fact that we can have a child that’s biologically ours without having to ruin either one of our figures. The decision to have children is quite a difficult one as for us queer folk it would entail loads of red tape and paperwork unlike our heterosexual counterparts who only have to have a night of marital bliss for a bun to be cooking in the oven. The concept of having children and the yearning to have them also seem to differ between gay and straight people.

Many times I have heard that once a woman reaches a certain age her biological clocks start ticking. This is a concept I find particularly intriguing. Is there some kind of biological deadline woman have, where she has to accomplish certain things or she will expire like milk? Is this mystical clock on a timer and if she passes her deadline do alarms sound that mockingly calls her a biological failure? In my social circle the deadline for having children appears to be between the magical ages of 30 to 40. After 40 there seems to be some kind expiry date for my female friends’ eggs and the next major deadline to look forward to is menopause. When it comes to my straight male friends I have not come across one that moaned and bitched about their biological clocks as straight men, in some cases, are only limited to two emotions when it comes to procreation – hungry and horny! So if he doesn't have an erection, girls please make him a sandwich.

When it comes to children, I have to be honest – they scare me. I have never been good with small children and they make me nervous. When they look at me with those innocent eyes I can almost swear they are searching for and identifying my weaknesses, plotting and scheming how far they would be able to push me before I will crack. Babies are also no different; the minute one is handed to me it will do one of two things – cry hysterically or throw up on me and most often both will happen. What makes this worse is when the proud mother would say “Ah... she likes you”, and this while I stand there covered in baby spit and the child turning red from screaming. Hubby on the other hand is great with kids and he can command their respect. When he says “No” children tend to listen. When I say “No” the complete opposite happens and what was rowdy before will turn into complete and utter chaos. It is times like this that I am sure my biological clock resets itself to “Never” when it comes to having children.

Having children is a life changing experience and this I have seen with many of my friends. Children truly are a blessing. What concerns me is the fact that a child does not come with a complete instruction manual and when they are broken you can’t take them back and ask for a refund. It’s a lifelong investment and not a cheap one at that. Children can be the source of great joy and also be the source of great headaches. Having been a tremendously difficult child to raise, I distinctly remember my mother telling me when I was having one of my classic tantrums during puberty that one day I will have children of my own and payback was going to be a bitch. Whether these words somewhat influenced my current decision for not wanting children I don’t know. When I do have children of my own, one day, I am sure many of my mother’s prophetic words will come back to haunt me and her favourite words “I gave life to you and I can take it away!” may just one day cross my lips when my child makes me angry.

With the majority of our friends, of a certain age, busy contemplating have children, trying to fall pregnant or being “with child” I feel no particular rush to get knocked-up or to knock-up hubby. We will not be renting a womb or be searching Africa for a child. For now we are quite content being Fairy Godparents and when our godchildren get difficult returning them home to their respective parents. This is not to say we have permanently closed the door to parenthood, we may still be open to the idea – check in again with us when we are forty.

Till next time.

Gay Education