Some People Just Don’t Understand.

To the parent who called my son a “little gay fairy boy” tonight at his middle school basketball game:

The word “gay” is not an insult in our house. It’s not used as a weapon, a casual insult or a way to describe something you really don’t care for.

Gay is just what some people are. Gay is Rain’s two moms or Jesse’s two dads. Gay is a lot of our roller derby friends. Gay looks pretty much the same as straight or bi or asexual. Gay is people you know.

If my son is gay, I hope he’s not as afraid to be gay as you seem to want to shame him into being. If he is and one day comes to me and tells me so, I will be just as proud of him that day as I am today. He is my son and no matter what, I will always adore the shit out of that kid.

My son, gay or not, is kind to everyone (even his sister who can be really annoying sometimes), polite, helpful, incredibly intelligent, modest, funny, sensitive and most of all, he is himself. I work very hard to allow him the environment to express himself in whatever way he chooses, be that in bright pink letters or green or blue or orange.

My son is amazing and not just because he is my son. Because he opens doors for everyone. Because sometimes his socks don’t match and he doesn’t care. Because he sings a little off key and dances like there is nobody watching. Because he eats like no other. Because, given the choice, he would choose a book over television.

So if he’s gay, he is still my son. He is the baby that slept through the night on day five. He is still the little boy who hated to get his hair cut, or take a bath. He is the young man who takes the longest.showers.ever.

He is my baby, my firstborn, and I love him even if he dyes his hair green or pierces his nose or….GASP….likes guys.

So you calling him a fairy boy could be true, or it could not. Doesn’t matter.

You said it as an insult, and as his mother, when I told you:

“shut your mouth, that’s my son,

what I meant was:

“that’s my boy and I am proud of him no matter what and you trying to insult him that way is degrading, and just shows that you’re an ignorant assmonkey who has such low self esteem that he needs to pick on seventh graders to make himself feel better.”

Please watch what you say in front of children. I would hate for your son to turn out as damaged as you.

Xoxoxo,

Mia

Ps: your wife heard you say that.

Momma Mia

I am a mom.

And today is Mothers’ Day.

I did a whole lot of nothing today, and even got to sleep in for an hour. I made a delicious breakfast for my kids and Chef, I hung out and read a book that wasn’t on child development or midwifery. I painted my nails and Chuck’s nails. Nonnie (Chef’s grandma) gave me some money and told me to spend it on something shiny or fun and not on the kids.

I might even give myself a pedicure before bed.

All in all, I got to spend Mothers’ Day with the reasons I am a mother, and I got to hang out with some of my favorite moms.

I hope you celebrated your momma or were feted by your momma-making offspring in some shiny/glittery/fancy way today, because all moms deserve at least a big fat hug and a “thanks for raising/birthing/rescuing me.”

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Or in Chuck’s case, “thanks for letting me use your stupidly large stash of makeup to paint my face like a superhero princess”.

Well, I’ll be.

Somehow, I have two children.

This is not a new development. Chuck is 2 1/2, Boy Wonder is 12. I have had nearly 3 years to get used to this.

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But every morning I wake up and handle two very different sets of needs and it’s flabbergasting to me that the girl who used to forget to eat before birthing children now makes sure both of her kiddos eat a balanced meal at least twice a day.

I answer the “Why?” question with two varied sets of answers…less dumbed-down for the 12 year old and endlessly for the 2 year old. I allow both of them to dress themselves, but Chuck needs a little more guidance or she would wear a diaper and a pig shirt and one boot out of the house.

Bubbles and bubble wrap fully occupy both of them, one being more methodical than the other. They play well together until Chuck gets a little rambunctious, then Boy Wonder is pretty much done.

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Two different sets of books to be read. Two different bedtimes. Two very different personalities.

Two very different beings that once grew in my body. Two people who I pushed into this world, and will (gently) push out into the bigger world to function fully on their own once they are ready, like baby birds from my nest.

One day, Chef and I will be alone in our “nest”, and I (at least) will miss the kids hollering down the hall looking for socks (MO-OOOOOOMMMM!!!) and the homework and the crazy that ensues. So for now, I enjoy the chaos and the arguing and the worrying about the hair and the choice of bath color and the war over “yes, you have to take a shower. You are a preteen boy and you smell like one”, only without saying that because I don’t want to hurt feelings.

I’m excited to see who my little people grow into, but for now, I’m ok with the hours spent matching socks and folding laundry, only to find it wedged behind a pile of jackets on the floor of a closet.

Kids and Roller Derby

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A Cupcake Family Christmas

It’s Christmas Eve here at the Cupcake Family Abode, and the only creature stirring right now is our enormous television, showing a Christmas classic movie.

Chuck is asleep, having hit a rather large wall about two hours earlier than normal….and after eating a huge wad of cookie dough, a handful of mini candy canes and some chocolate. (all apparently within eyeshot of *someone*, just not her MOTHER…haha)

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Boy Wonder, having skipped the sweets (except for a candy cane) and downing an entire bag of microwave popcorn before I could ran a handful, is quietly watching this movie and I’m pretty sure he will pass out shortly after its imminent conclusion.

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So from us and ours to you and yours, a very Happy Christmas and I hope you all have at least a tiny bit of peace and silence in your day tomorrow.

Xoxox,
The Cupcake/Frag Clan

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