In today’s world, there are those who oppose my lifestyle, including celebrating Mother’s Day as a two mom family. And those who welcome us, and celebrate these miracles in life.
Surprise surprise. Not all people share our joy in having two mothers in which to celebrate Mother’s Day. The scene took place in Grandville, MI, where an anti-gay protester decided to stand on a busy highway corner with a sign reading, “Thank your mom today for not being gay”. The reactions of the crowd was priceless. A few cars honked in support, many cars stopped to give the woman their piece of mind, and there was even a slew of other corner dwellers, holding signs of their own. What occurred on top of all the lgbt support, was an angry woman, who demonstrated her opinion by throwing her slushie at the protester. Now, I don’t know if the slushie throwing was right, but I can certainly concur with the passion from the thrower. See the newsreel below.
In other news, my lovely wife and I got to celebrate our very first Mother’s Day! We didn’t have to deal with protesters or drama. We just enjoyed spending the day with our sweet little man. The three of us went out to breakfast and all the waitresses just swooned over his cuteness. When one waitress asked who the mother was, we replied, “both of us”, and she just said “I love that”, and smiled. I love being in a place where we can live as a normal family, and be comfortable being us. We then had the rest of the day to hang out together, to enjoy our amazing family. And you know, I absolutely wouldn’t have wanted it any other way!
So there you have it. People who cannot accept the love and normalcy of a family like mine. I absolutely can’t wrap my head around it. Why go out of the way to bring fellow human beings down? Let’s work on loving one another and accepting that we are all worthy of the same things that hetero folks are. All of us mothers are one in the same- human- and we have one thing in common- our children. So on that note, I wish ALL mothers a Happy Mother’s Day. I hope it was a joyful one for you.
The latest PSA is rather compelling, and this issue affects women (and men) everywhere. It doesn’t matter if you are straight, gay, bi, or questioning. It doesn’t matter if you are black, white, pink, or purple. It doesn’t matter if you are rich, poor, fat, skinny, short, or tall. Sexual assault is happening. It is a crime and it is wrong. It robs the lives of it’s victims. No means no. Check out the video to see some of our favorite men setting the record straight. Remember- 1 is 2 many.
The latest buzz about one of my not so secret celeb crushes, Kristen Stewart, is that she is indeed dating her gal pal, Alicia Cargile. I don’t always write about celebrity gossip, but I’ve been a dedicated Krisbian for years. So, let’s savor this unconfirmed piece of information and give Kristen a warm welcome.
I had the privilege of staying home from work today to spend time with my four month old son. And let me tell you, this kid gave me a run for my money! His usually happy, easy-going nature transformed into one crabby little baby. He was so irritable and cranky today that it took all I had to try to soothe him. I learned another lesson in what it means to be a parent. I’m exhausted. And I’m happy. I’m so excited to be there to soothe him when he’s at his worst, to hold him when he’s in need of a nap, to provide smashed green beans and fill his belly. Sure, there will be rough moments, but I love every second. I am mommy.
74-year-old Navy veteran, Madelynn Taylor would like her wife to be buried with her in the Idaho State Veterans Cemetery, but officials will not allow it. Idaho doesn’t recognize her same sex marriage. She followed standard protocol, taking her discharge papers and marriage certificate to the Veterans Cemetery to apply to be buried there with her wife when she passes away, but was at a loss when they would not process her request.
“I thought they’d say okay because in any federal cemetery it is okay, in any national cemetery,” Taylor said. “I could take the same documents and get buried in Arlington if I needed to, with no problems. But here they said it’s a state veterans cemetery, not a national cemetery. So we have to go by the state laws.”
Click this link to view a video clip on Taylor:
Taylor and her late wife Jean Mixner married at a church retreat in Oregon in 1995, and formally in a California courthouse six years ago.
Taylor, who served six years in the Navy from 1958 to 1964, says that while she could be buried together in another veterans cemetery, she says as a longtime Idaho resident with brothers and sisters here, she doesn’t want to settle. She wants to be in Idaho’s Veterans Cemetery, with her wife by her side.
“I just feel that it’s the right place for me,” she says. “I want Jean with me.”
Source: LGBTQ Nation
When I speak of my single life, I sound like a 50 year old man glorifying his high school football days. I get all glossy-eyed and lost in my own swollen head. I think I sound hot. Seasoned. I reminisce on when I was dating four girls at the same time. On the good dyke clubs “back in the day”. I think I am impressing the 21 year olds that landed in my circle. Like these baby dykes can learn a thing or two from this veteran clit licker. I remember how attractive I used to be with my tan and tiny clothes. I was an avid teeth bleacher. My legs (and more) were always shaved. It was a serious case of “too many girls, too little time”.
Maybe I do sound cool. I don’t know, it’s possible. Or maybe I just sound old.
Truth is, I haven’t been single in eight years. And truth is, I’m okay with it. In fact, I have been married to my wife for almost seven years and we have a baby boy. We own real estate. And a dog. We don’t get drunk and we have a bedtime. I wear comfortable clothes.
I don’t know if people are impressed with the image of the former me. I don’t know if I miss her. I don’t know if I think that if I were single today, that it would be the same as it was. Because the reality is that it would be nothing like it used to be. I sincerely laugh at my fantasy of the younger, goddess-like version of me. The thing is, I have changed. Single, married, or whatever. I’m not the same person that I once was. And it has nothing to do with whether I was a fresh little lezzie or not. It has everything to do with growing up. My priorities went from phone numbers to anniversaries, from new club music to nursery rhymes, from panties to diapers. You catch my drift.
Maybe we all like to hang on to something from our youthful counterparts. I mean, isn’t that what the media and commercialism want us to do? Look younger! Feel younger! Maybe because I’ve had so many changes in these last eight years, that it just seems recreational to embrace a memory or two. Frankly, I enjoy remembering the days where things happened a little faster, women were a little more prevalent, and I was a little shinier.
And as far as I’m concerned, there is nothing wrong with that. Okay okay, and I was a ripe little hottie. There, I said it.
Her skin was softer than a lullaby.
A tune so simple, I’d wished the words were my own.
That voice embraced a song, just so she could set it free.
As she sang, I had to hide the tears.
Her own hair, the color women pay for, left a strand on my coat.
It was part of what defined her beauty.
I insisted she was number one, no matter how sensitive she was.
Weak and selfish, my light shined through her voids.
She answered sweetly to the name only I could call her.
Then painted a picture of her reservations.
A new sense of complication emerged from the rose-colored trench.
And I pitied my intentions.
She came and went until something better became obvious.
I paved that road for which she danced.
Aromatic memories of her perfume are reduced to ash.
I now live my new book, where the words are my own.