Chicago Moms Blog

Gender Identity Divides A Family

"You are setting him up to fail" was the last thing I heard before my throat began to tighten and my eyes flooded with tears. How could my own family say such things to me? "I will not listen to you!" sputtered out of my mouth as I frantically searched for the button to drop the call. Did that just happen? 

Heavy sobs rippled through me as I heard their final words ring through my head. Earlier in the conversation I shared that I was searching for a transgender play group for my child who has known for almost two years that he is a girl inside. Just recently he began wearing his dresses outside of the house and mentioning his loneliness for friends who felt the same way as he did. I assured him that I would find a play group and felt confident this was a positive step in supporting him as he navigated through his feelings.  

Earlier in the day I felt disheartened after a trip to the Center on Halsted (well known for their support of the LGBT community) only resulted in a voice mail message. Instead of everything quickly falling into place as I hoped, I had to be patient and wait. If I thought that the frustration of the delay was bad, the phone call I made looking for some encouragement ended up being the lowest point of my day. 

Do You Know Where Your Nanny Is?

It's the first week in June, the kids are almost out of school and the countdown until our beloved babysitter returns home from college begins. So tired from my babysitter blues of the past, I didn't have the strength to have another babysitter work for us while she was gone. The thought of the interviewing process made my skin crawl. Much like the prospect of dating after being married, I couldn't handle the whole acclamation process and feared that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me that my kids weren't being cared for while I was away. Our history leaves me with a wary perspective.

Our first nanny experience ended with (my then 3 year old) son telling me that his nanny dropped him off at a strange man's house and left him. Even though my son could recount minute by minute what occurred during his time with the "stinky" stranger, my conscience would not let me live without consulting a forensic child psychologist on the possibility of abuse. Later we found out that she also lost my son in Target. Thankfully the security found him before a predator. Strike one. 

What the World Needs Now

The Modern Wing of the Art Institute

Art lifts us. Gives us hope. Makes sense of our past and instills a belief that there is something beautiful for all of us to create here.

Overjoyed to attend the sneak preview for the media yesterday at the Modern Wing of the Art Institute, I had some beautifully landscaped quiet moments to reflect on my life long love of art. It all started with my mother's narrative as we walked down the hushed halls of the Art Institute when I was a small child.

Holding my hand tight she told passionate stories about when she first fell in love with Degas and his ballet dancers or how she feels when she sees the brushstrokes of a Renoir. She begged for my opinion encouraging me to open up and share my interpretation of what I saw (even when it conflicted with her own). This bubbling excitement spilled over on me like a flood of possibility and again and again I was swept away when I entered the museum. The truth is, I still feel it every time I walk in. 

Now with my own children, I find myself reflecting on the genius of my parent's philosophy. Despite living meagerly as small business owners, they never forgot to engage in the beauty of this world. They made it a point to take us to the ballet, to the opera, to the museums and to more simple places like state parks and historical destinations. Almost like a ritual or better yet, an escape so that my sister and I knew that there was more to living.

Gender Identity on TV Makes Me Think

 Last night I watched the latest episode of Bones on Hulu and it got me thinking. During the show a guest doctor arrived unexpectedly to help with a case and all the characters could care about was finding out if the doctor was a male or a female.

After a good deal of staring and guessing, the characters tried to mask their overwhelming curiosity by making awkward compliments to fish for "the answer". Finally one of them took the lead and hugged the doctor while saying goodbye. She walked back to the group with a look of satisfaction. "It moved.", she boasted with a smile. At long last they looked satisfied with the punchline to the secret joke.

Now before everyone goes all Chef Boyardee on me, please understand this episode struck a chord with me for personal reasons. For about a year and a half now my son has maintained that although he was born with boy body parts, he is a girl inside. As a result I think more about transgender issues when I see them portrayed on television or in film. I'm not sure if I think of it as a glimpse into what lies ahead as only time will tell what the future truly holds. But it does make me think about parenting a child with transgender issues.  

Embracing Life with a Tattoo

 

For years I was intrigued about tattoos, but never entertained the idea of getting one. Just didn't feel it was necessary really. And I have to admit, despite having run marathons, birthed two children and survived the 3day walk, I do not seek out pain deliberately. Nevertheless, the thought of a tattoo to commemorate a spiritual change in my life started to become real to me about six months ago.

Rather than jump in, I gave myself a couple months to just kick the idea around. What symbol to choose? Where to put it? Is this really part of my journey? In the background I could hear my mom's voice chiming "Why do they draw on themselves?" while I looked for inspiration for my possible tattoo. To each his own I guess.

Life Coming Into Focus

 It is amazing how one phone call can change your whole perspective. Last Sunday I was blissfully unaware. After a fantastic brunch with the gals I enjoyed shopping at my fav store when I got the call telling me than an ambulance rushed my stepfather to the hospital. Memories of losing my father the exact same way to a massive heart attack and stroke flood my head and I found myself driving in bewilderment. My bubble of contentment burst.

After that things changed. In the midst of supporting my mom, reassuring my kids, keeping my sister (who lives out of state) updated and worrying about my stepdad, everything that wasn't absolutely critical was instantly forgotten. Suddenly the bickering comments about my last post don't seem relevant and I forget to shave my legs during my hurried 2 minute shower. The pressure to work morning and night seems fruitless when your loved one is suffering in front of you. Life comes into complete focus and you ask yourself- what is truly important?

Chef Boyardee Isn't Helping Families

What you don't know can't hurt you. We have all heard this before, but do we actually believe that it is the best strategy for teaching our kids about nutrition? A prime time Chef Boyardee commercial that portrayed a timid mother trying to sneak "healthy food" begs the question- how do we really educate our children about food?

If you haven't seen the commercial it shows a mom in the kitchen who has prepared a bowl of can raviolis for her son who sits alone across the counter. The child seems pretty satisfied with his food when (what one would assume to be) the dad comes in and makes a positive comment about the amount of vegetable servings in the meal. Stricken with a look of panic mixed with terror, Mom frantically bangs pans to drown out what Dad is saying. Repeat and you get the drift. 

So let's assume for the sake of argument that the Chef Boyardee's depiction of the "typical" family is correct. Meals are served to the child alone at the kitchen counter rather than the entire family sitting down to eat. I'm going to give the benefit of the doubt and assume this is a quick lunch situation or one of those times that the family has different schedules. Happens to all of us.

Why Is It So Hard For The School To Recycle?

Ever since our family made a commitment to an environmentally friendly lifestyle, recycling was the first major change. Quickly gravitating to the thought provoking routine, my kids now stop themselves before throwing anything away and consider if the item could be reused in a different way or if it could be recycled. I love to step back and see the things created by these big imaginations!  

After such success at home, I thought it made complete sense to bring this responsible and educational activity to their private preschool so I approached the boys' teachers and the Head Mistress. Thankfully my suggestions were well received and I purchased recycling bins for the boys' classrooms, the office and the break room of the school. Relishing in my small accomplishment, I thought it was only a matter of time before all the classrooms were recycling.

Surprisingly once I proudly delivered the bins everyone eagerly looked to me to properly dispose of the materials as if I were handling radioactive materials. Like many people who don't have recycling pickup yet or haven't yet incorporated recycling into their daily life, there seems to be some angst so I set up a program where I would pick up the recycling at the end of each week and haul it to the Nature Museum. Easy, right?

Can't Win For Losing

Ever have one of those times when you feel like you are in a parallel universe? Things may look similar around you but nothing goes as planned. Beep! The battery in the smoke detector has been replaced four times but keeps shrieking like it is possessed. What fixes things in your "usual" world doesn't cut it here.

Here I can't make tea without something getting saturated and ruined. Can't do laundry without a mysterious tissue showing up in the dryer, shredded all over the boys fleece pants. Beep! Haven't been able to wear tights without creating huge holes that make me resemble Madonna in the 80's. It feels like I can't do anything right.

Sure it is all pretty meaningless, right? So the tea spills and ruins my new camera. So the laundry gets done again. So maybe I should steer clear of tights for a while. Simple inconveniences that we all come across when we move too fast or have our mind on something else. Beep! Doesn't ease my mind.

They Found a Lump in My Breast

Gulp. My throat tightens as I dial the last digit and wait. "Hi Mom... I have some bad news..." I quickly squeeze in before I am rendered speechless. I take a breath and jump into the abyss by whispering it out loud "They found a lump in my breast." Like a confession, I feel somewhat relieved someone else knows the reason my head is spinning with fear. My eyes clouding so much I pull to the side of the road to struggle for breath. 

As I try to recall the medical jargon when the doctor was talking to me, I remember sitting in the office with reports looking for an answer. Did she say something about the lump being obstructed on my mammogram? What does that mean? I know I watched her lips as she was explaining it to me (I wanted to get it right) but they moved so fast forming words that seemed foreign to me. I squinted my eyes as if I could translate if I just concentrated.  

I've thought about this moment for a long time. When my mom survived breast cancer eight years ago, I recognized it as a possibility for the first time.