Hello dear readers, it has been so long. Betsy, my tireless, phenomenal literary co-pilot has been holding the blog torch for all these weeks. I have been dealing with some personal things and I am going to try to slowly start re-posting about my journey as a queer, non-gestational parent.
So much and also so little has gone on in these past six weeks. During that time, I found myself thinking up blog post topics in title form, almost the way my brain sometimes (frighteningly; embarassingly) thinks in Facebook status update mode, summing up my daily or moment-by-moment experience as a human to a series of one-liners: “Why is it so hard to hang a picture by yourself?” or “The house is in shambles and all I want to do is go to bed. Anyone?”
Some of the past six weeks’ potential blog post titles? Here’s a few that I remember chewing on:
“Forgive me for I knew not the trials and tribulations of raising a 3-year old. An apology to all those I judged before becoming a parent (and other confessions).”
Or, “Small, but profound, moments of love returned: My 3-year old tells me she ‘loves me too’ while wrapped around my legs, pretending to be my ‘baby bat’ under a blanket wrapped around my body (I’m Mummy Bat of course).”
Or, “Like a fool I learn yet again: one-on-one connection helps my daughter trust me and lessens me being rejected by her.”
You see, there are countless things I could have written about and maybe in just sharing glimpses of them you get a sense of my experience as a parent and even nod in recognition. Each day is somehow more of the same and also brand new. Each rounding of the corner of parenthood following this pattern. Parenting is one of the most humbling things I have ever done. Often I feel like I’m no good at it, that I’m impatient, maybe even slightly bored. But there are also these moments of the purest joy, love and beauty that are unlike anything I have experienced since, well, childhood. But isn’t life like that? A mixture of the mundane and the awesome?