parenting

My son is, without a doubt, the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. He’s also taught me invaluable lessons about myself that I could have never anticipated.

My toddler’s recent preference for her father has gone from sub-textual to textual. She has no compunction about loudly pushing me away and requesting her dad instead. I’ve been reprimanded for even speaking to her on occasion — “Don’t talk to me, Mom! Don’t talk!”

My beliefs about people’s rights, including my own, are a significant factor in how I define myself, how I identify, and how I treat other people. And since I happen to be raising people, my approach to parenting must reflect those beliefs too.

Many people (rightfully) believe that women own their bodies, and that, therefore, they should be in control of their own bodies. So why do those same people turn around and try to define girls by their clothing?

[CN: pregnancy, birth] I’ve always considered myself pretty open-minded, but honestly, before I had my first baby, I probably would’ve scoffed at a lot of the so-called “crunchier” parenting tactics that I now consider quite normal.

People sometimes blame my dad for me being transgender. In their view, I guess, my father being a good dad is the reason I don't feel comfortable in my own skin and battle gender dysphoria. To my mind, this makes no sense. I will say, though, looking back — I did learn a lot about masculinity from my dad.

Nothing felt overwhelming. Not the initial cracked nipples or sleepless nights; not the constant babywearing or lullaby-singing; not the occasional cravings or muscle aches. Through hormonal changes and physical transformations (muffin top and lopsided breasts included), there was always her constant reassuring presence. She made it all worthwhile.

[CN: Toxic parents] I am a big fan of inappropriate humor (especially when said humor is tinged with sarcasm), and I’m an even bigger fan of using comedy to deal with life’s ugliness. But when the humor is at the expense of someone unknowing and innocent, like a child, I no longer consider it funny.