"Want Gay Marriage-Don't shove it down my throat"

Last week was National Coming Out Day. Last week was the anniversary of the murder of Matthew Shepard. Last week a bullied teen in British Columbia committed suicide because she had no one to stand by her. Last week I read in a parenting magazine about how to teach my child to stand up for other kids who are being bullied. And my mother, she taught me to stand up for what I believe in, to speak up when things need to be said, to demand my rights and never let them be trampled on.

Last week, someone posted as a response to a pro-Gay Marriage post: "Want Gay Marriage-Don't shove it down my throat".

Have we really gained such little ground?

What will it take for the majority to realize that as long as we allow this culture of creating second class citizens to survive under law, it will continue to thrive in the hearts and minds of the populace? What will it take for people to realize that stupid comments propagate such a culture? What will it take for people to realize that such a culture promotes bullying? What will it take for people to realize that separate but equal is not equal?

Take a moment, people. Look across the room at someone you love. Ask yourself, would you still love them if they were gay? Ask yourself, what would you do if you discovered it was your child posting videos to Facebook about being bullied by her entire school? Ask yourself, what would you do if your spouse was dying and the hospital taking care of them refused to let you say goodbye? Ask yourself, what would you do if your best friend started dating outside of their race? What if your co-worker's church was vandalized and burned? What if your child cut themselves every day after coming home from school because they had no control over the daily ritual of facing people who constantly put them down for being a slut, a fag, a nerd, a fatty, a Muslim. What would it take for you to care enough to make a difference in their lives? How close would this person have to be to you? Does someone have to be in your immediate family for you to care? Is being your neighbor enough? A coworker? How about a friend of a friend? And how bad would their torture have to be before you had a change of heart and stood up for them? Would you wait until the few voices against them turned into a dozen, an entire classroom, an entire school? Would you wait until they cried themselves to sleep on a weekly basis, or until it was daily? Would you wait until the cutting started, or until the noose was tied?

Every inane comment you allow to slip by is another wound to a victim of bullying, another wound to our community, another wound to our culture, another wound to our democracy. You have every right to say whatever the hell you want to whomever they hell you want. I pity you, your family and loved ones, if those are the words you choose to spout. I pity your community. I pity our nation. We should be better than this. We should have come farther by now.

My mother stood up for others by confronting bad guys, by talking to her children about the differences between people and how differences are ok. The parenting magazine suggests commenting on positive behavior the child sees in daily life and media, and suggested having their kid invite the bullied kid over to play. I'm going to do everything in my power to ensure that not only will my child grow up to stand up for others, but that she will live in a society where she can love whomever she wants and never hide that out of fear. Love and beauty should never have to hide from fear and hate. Today I start by standing up to you and your ridiculous comments that are based on hate and not factual reality. In a few weeks, I continue by voting to ensure marriage in this state is defined by two people loving each other who want to enter into a civil contract, not defined by some religious text that has nothing to do with our government, and not defined by a group of people who only have hate and fear in their hearts.

The Art of Doing Too Much

Saying there is an "art" to something implies a certain sense of grace and beauty. There's certainly none of that in this tale. Maybe I should say I've got this thing down to a science.

I am quite envious of moms of infants who appear to have reclaimed some approximation of their previous life-before-baby. Moms who have gone back to work, moms who cook for their families, moms who manage shopping trips or other outings with their babies peaceful and alert in their carriers, moms who find the time to shower and put on clean clothes before leaving the house... I can't even leave the house to run errands because it always seems to be a recipe for disaster. Still, I tell myself this is something I have to learn to do. This is something the girl is going to have to learn to accept. Life goes on, and it doesn't all happen at home.

I thought I had learned my lesson: no multi-destination errand runs with the baby in tow. No exceptions. Ha!

Last Monday we went to our PEPS group and had a lovely time with all the other mommies and babies. The girl fell asleep in her carrier as I was pulling out of the parking lot, which was perfect because I was hoping to run exaclty ONE errand. But, of course, I decided to Press My Luck: I had lunch at McDonald's, scarfing down everything in the parking lot as quickly and quietly as possible. No Whammies - the girl stayed asleep, and so off we went to the baby consignment store. I parked, I got her out of the car and in her stroller, and we were crossing the parking lot when my luck began to ran out: dodging traffic, the girl woke up and my cell phone rang. Oddly, the girl did not immediately cry and scream as my husband made his case. Oddly enough, I didn't scream either. Husband was telling me that my car tabs were expired, and if I could go get my emissions test today, he would go pick up the new tabs on his way home from work. The emissions place is in Seattle. I was in Lynnwood. With a baby on a 2-hour feeding schedule that had last eaten about 1.5 hours ago.

And you know what I did? I walked into the consignment store. I really needed a high chair, dammit. Of course, they had ZERO high chairs. Seriously? How can a baby store NOT have a single high chair in stock? Later. There will be time to ponder this later. Let's head to the Emissions Testing place, shall we? It's just a straight shot down I-5 and then Aurora. It's not a crazy traffic time of day. Why not?

And you know what happened? Traffic cooperated. The baby cooperated. The Testing place cooperated. There was no line. Husband calls while I am waiting for the car in front of me to roll out of the testing station, to tell me not to bother, that the place has terrible hours and will close before I can get there. I tell him smugly not to worry, I'm already there. I hang up. I pull up for my turn, get out and talk to the fantastically serene baby as she sits in the back seat. Life is good. I am an ingenious mommy with an angel baby.

And you know what I did? I Pressed My Luck. Again. It's just a straight shot down Aurora to 85th, a quick jaunt to cross over I-5 and then I'm at Husband's office, handing him the Emissions Test Report. 5 minutes, tops, and Husband doesn't have to drive all the way home before getting the new tabs.

And you know what happened? There is traffic during a normal low-traffic time. Because the turn at 85th is closed for construction. So there is a detour to 80th. Where every other person in Seattle who needs to get from Aurora to I-5 is now travelling. Where 85th has 4 lanes and stoplights, this road has 2 lanes and stop signs. And a break-down in my lane. Queue the baby to start screaming. Queue the mommy to start crying. I am the worst mommy ever.

I somehow make it to Husband's office. Have I mentioned it is a 2nd story walk-up of an old house? I load baby and all her gear into the stroller, wheel her to the stairs, unload all the gear onto myself until I look like a pack mule, and mount the stairs. I walk inside, put everything down, catch my breath as one of Husband's co-workers walks in to gush over the baby. Something inside my brain goes click and I stop breathing.

"My husband's car isn't outside," I say as calmly as humanly possible. "He isn't here, is he?"

Nope. Husband is at lunch. In fact, he just called to say he will be extra late getting back.

Don't panic! Don't freak out! Call Husband. There's no way he has done what you think he's done. Calling Husband confirms: he is at home, waiting for me to arrive with the Emissions Test Report. I inform him I will not be arriving anytime soon because I have to change and feed the baby. Co-worker takes his queue from my tone of voice and leaves us alone. I change and feed the baby bawling my eyes out.

And you know what happened? Husband arrived as the girl is finishing her bottle and he apologizes. OK, not for anything he has done. Because it's not his fault. It's our fault, together, for sucking at communicating. But he apologizes that the day has gone to hell, and he hugs me. And slowly, not instantly but slowly, things get better.

After that, the rest of the week was a piece of cake. On Saturday Husband remarks that I've had such a good week, after many weeks of bad days. And he's right.

And you know what happened? On Sunday we pressed our luck together. After a full afternoon of a Fall photoshoot followed by a walk in the park followed by a visit to Auntie's, we took a trip out to Granite Falls. We saw the Falls and then stayed in town for dinner. Where the girl had her first diaper blow out at a restaurant.

And you know what I did? I calmly walked the baby to the car (because of course all the diapering stuff got left there), changed her in the trunk beside people pulling in and out of the liquor store I was parked in front of, and then changed my shirt right there in the middle of main street Granite Falls. I was wearing a hot pink bra. There were teenagers across the street.

And you know what happened? I remained calm. I didn't cry. I walked the baby back to the restaurant, handed her to her daddy, and finished my dinner. I am not the worst mommy ever. Not even by a longshot.