Back to the Future

I kinda let this slide. For two years.

Excuses I’ve pondered:

• I accepted that CEO position. Finally. It kept me busy.

• I accidentally had four more kids. They’re a handful.

• I waited in line to see Star Wars. It was a really long line.

• I binge watched The Simpsons. That’s like, over 500 episodes. It was a time suck.

But, none of those would be true.

Instead, I listened, I shared, and I celebrated this once wee little guy. He’s not so wee anymore. He’s almost five feet tall now. He’s wicked smart. He questions the norm. He’s a mathlete. And, he is still L. Lovely and caring and hilarious and truthful and himself.




L and I are listening to the radio.  “Same Love” cues up. I’m awed and amazed by this song. We’ve discussed being gay before. L asks again, “what does it mean to be gay?” I’m ready to launch into a long, sensitive tutorial on the subject. I’m interrupted at word three.
L: “Okay, so it’s like if two girls or two boys like each other. Like, LIKE each other. Love each other.”


“And then they get married.”


“So, basically everyone is entitled to their own thoughts and feelings. Got it.”

Past Tense

July, 2008

Last night, L and I talked for about an hour after stories about the pets he’s going to have. A fish named Haylie, a hamster named Kyla, and a chicken named Justin. I told him we’d start with the fish but that the binkie had to go. He got up out of bed and threw it into the trash (with much aplomb). He talked about taking his fish to swim class on a leash and teaching it how to swim. Then, as he started drifting off, he said, “where’s my binkie?” I cracked up. He fished it out of the trash and put it back into his mouth.

It was an exciting 5 minutes.

Not a great day

Went to the dog park. We have a big, black dopey dog who’s merely a dog. She’s not my baby, my boo boo, my cupcake. She’s a dog. Just a really good dog. She was attacked by a vicious little snit dog, who was definitely someone’s sweet pea, child, probably eats steak every night. That kinda dog. Things didn’t end well. At least they ended. Nothing’s as awful as watching two dogs go at it. Oh, and while my dog is merely a dog, she’s also merely a really, really big dog. And she can haul ass and when pushed, she’ll turn around and let you know who’s not going to come out on top. Dogs were separated, mean words exchanged, L said, “it’s time to go home. I’m very sad now. That was very upsetting and it’s time to be at home where we’ll chill and relax and the day will get much, much better.”

It did.