Cut the Cookie Cutter Crap

Something ugly yet pretty.

Who gets to decide what society wants? I am not the only one to challenge it, and I’m sure that the belief goes beyond my circle of friends, that there is a mistrust in ‘society’ and the structure of our ‘society’. If society is made up of people, and you and I are people, isn’t what is considered as ‘normal’ or ‘acceptable’ up to us to decide?

And why do we have to ‘fit in’, or ‘fit’ at all? At a dental visit, I was asked if Alice was my mother (she’s about 4 years older than me), at the grocery store they call her my sister, and at the workplace my colleagues assume that Bailey is my sister as well. It’s a little easier to forgive if you make the assumption ‘best friend’. In fact, if we were sisters that were getting along, we would not be offended to be called best friends. If I were with my mother, she would be flattered to be called my best friend. Or how about starting with, ‘are you two related?’ But rather, it’s been decided that being female with a female partner is not ‘normal’. (Check out SHE’S NOT MY MOTHER, I’m not the exception.)

Pretend I don’t care about me, that I’ve grown to accept that I’m a misfit and will forever be a misfit. There are others I want to stand up for. I’m brought nearly to tears with M.C.’s story as an intersex individual. M.C.’s sex was chosen for him (he identifies as male) and he underwent surgery at 16 months of age to remove his male genitalia. Here’s a quote I pulled from one of the doctors (Michael DiSandro) from the article: “You have a person with ambiguous genitals, which society does not accept, and as a surgeon you can change it into something that looks completely normal and that society does accept.”

I have not forgotten how dysfunctional our society is. The divorce rate is currently between 40-50%, most of my friends are born bastards, and of those most were born outside of fidelity, myself included. Even the rich will complain that they need more money, but my peers often need two jobs or overtime just to get by. Most are unhappy, and it’s common to want to be different or special.

We as people recognize that there’s no such thing as perfection, and those of us who strive for it are often dysfunctional (based off of my observations of people I know), because what’s been decided as normal is not healthy or practical. Let’s visit what’s considered ‘normal’. You have the nuclear family, the mom and dad and daughter and son (because when it comes to children’s sex, you have to collect them all! [excluding intersexual, obviously]) and the cat and dog. Dad works nine to five, Mom raises the kids at home and has dinner done just in time for Dad to pull into the driveway. Mom and Dad saved up tuition for the children and for retirement for themselves.

I’ve never seen anything like this outside of old TV shows. Numerically it doesn’t make sense, but I’m too lazy to math it all, and you guys will just glaze over the figures. Just consider how much school is alone and how many folks you know that are retired and meet up at somewhere nicer than McDonalds for breakfast (where some locations have the dollar-sausage-biscuit-hashbrown [because no one says ‘and’]). To some people, homosexuality is a fad, which will now fade from being a fad since the taboo has been stripped, thank you Scotus. Because people don’t want normal; it doesn’t make sense.

My church now has the bathrooms labeled as non-gendered, with a notice further explaining that everyone is welcome. In an American history class my teacher asked, “do you really want true gender equality?”

The response was, obviously, “yes”. I’m always wary with the seemingly obvious, so I kept my mouth shut.

He informed the class of what it would actually look like, and painted a picture where bathrooms weren’t gender specific and asked again, “do you really want true gender equality?” The class was quiet now, and divided. My personal take on it was born out of a fear of males (thanks, Anakin [my father, for those of you who are new here]) and I preferred the security of being somewhere I knew males would not be. At the time I suppose I didn’t believe that genders were ‘truly equal’, as my teacher had put it. All this came back to me when I saw those signs, and I reasoned within myself, just as Edward helped me to trust that not all men are made evil, I trusted now that this colorful, paper flyer was a step closer to something better.

Just like there is no manual for parenting, or for being poly (to you weirdos who would dare ask how to be poly), the current day suppositions on being normal being happy need to be chucked out the thirtieth-floor window. Let’s scatter until someone calls out, “hey guys, I found something that might work!” Were it not for the lawsuits (they’re starting to multiply against my family like rabbits) I might have been that one, but apparently this isn’t the day for us yet. But we’re close.

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Mothers’ Match

“Our mothers have been hanging out,” Bailey informed me.

“Yeah?” I dumped the broken noodles into the boiling water.

“Apparently about once every three weeks.” I scrolled through my calendar, trying to find landmarks for important dates. I can’t remember when it was that Bailey met with our mothers at the café and chewed them out. I refused to go after texting my mother and seeing her absolute naïveté to not only the case but how she is a pawn on the opposing side. She played innocent, and I figured that if in innocence she could cause so much heartache, I would preserver her ‘innocence’ and just not give her the ammunition. “They’re besties, or at least that’s what it looks like.”

“It really does. I don’t think she hung out as much with her other ‘best’ friend.” I tried scrolling through my mother’s schedule back when I was living with her. The one person she hung out with most and might have called a best friend she met maybe a few times a year.

“I know my mom’s gay. What do you think, do you think your mom likes girls?”

I considered. I couldn’t imagine her liking anyone, she probably hadn’t dated anyone in four or five years. “I know she hates men.”

Does Donald Trump Actually Stink?

I may plan on celebrating Troll Week in August each year. But when living with Edward, any day can be Troll Day.

He discovered that Donald Trump had a team that bought up web domains that could be degrading to the Trump brand. Edward has a thing against people who think they can pay their way through their problems, and so spent a few bucks on a site that Trump’s team missed: donaldtrumpstinks.com

Not even 24 hours in and the number of visitors is in the hundreds. “I’m going to see if Deez Nuts will do an interview.”

“He’s fifteen, he’s in school now.” I read one article about Brady Olson that mentioned briefly that he was getting more requests than he could respond to, and before the school year began.

A few hours later I hear laughter- Deez Nuts responded and agreed to do an email interview. You should totally read all about it, and share. Everywhere.

What do you think he would smell like, anyway? I think he would smell like too many hair products, but Alice thinks he would smell like bigotry and lies.

Guinevere Makes History

We considered today that Guinevere is indeed in a very special family. Bailey and I officially changed our last names at the SSA office yesterday and have considered what all that means. If I end up in the hospital and they say “family only,” then Bailey can see me. Bailey can also take Guinevere to doctors’ visits and speak for me, etc.

We decompressed, piled up on the king size bed, everyone exhausted from the day’s tasks. Guinevere yanked on the shirt sleeves she could reach, babbling away about how much fun she’d had today while we brainstormed about dinner. “Want a hug?” Edward reached out to her and I passed her along. She reached that age where she thinks Daddy is the cool one. Probably because of his beard, which she immediately yanked. Bailey started pinching at Guinevere’s cheeks. “Hey, she’s my baby,” Ed teased.

“Uh, legally, she’s my baby.”

Legally she’s MY baby.”

There was a shared excitement when we all realized the unique nature of our family. Of our ten born children, Guinevere is the only one that can legally have more than the typical set of parents. Yes, we signed papers saying that Edward is the father. Bailey and I also signed papers, which makes Bailey (as well as myself) her mother(s). And because Alice is married to Edward, she is a stepmother, right? Edward said that Bailey was a stepmother. I don’t think that’s right, because when a gay couple has a child, one of them is not considered a stepparent. I tried to Google the definition of a stepparent, and it doesn’t really correlate, because to count, the initial relationship needs to have ended, which is clearly not the case.

Our poly family may not be legally considered what we count it to be (I think we now look like swingers in the eyes of the law), but we have some sort of legal standing now.

I took pride initially in that my child would be the one to break the double digits of number of children we have, and later realized that I’m also the first ‘second wife’ (though not in paperwork) to have Edward’s child. I don’t ever want to be ‘that mother’ that lives vicariously through her daughter, forcing her to do things she wouldn’t want to do just because I want something to be proud of her for. I love her by virtue of her being her, and I will encourage her to be the best she can be (best at brain puzzles, best at jumping, kindest person in her class, whatever floats her boat, though she seems really driven to communicate). I will be proud to be the mother who supported her in her endeavor, even if no one knows who I am. In the book of Matthew, Jesus prays over some fish and bread and feeds however many hundred in two instances. Had no one packed their lunch that day, there would be no food to multiply, and that miracle wouldn’t happen. I don’t mind being the nobody that was an ingredient to a miracle, and with Guinevere, I think that’s who I am.