By: Brandy Black

Sophia is learning about her family.  We have been reading a series of amazing books by Todd Par that are themed around all kinds of families.  The other day we were out at Starbucks and Sophia put her arms around Susan and said “I love you so much Mom” then she came over, hugged me and said “I love you so much mama” and then she looked up at the people around us waiting for the coffees and said “My family”.

She hasn’t learned to censor her words for fear of disapproval; she loves with pure abandon from a place that knows no judgment.  Sophia has since introduced us as her family a couple more times to strangers.  She is so full of love that people can do nothing but celebrate along with her.  It is an amazing thing to see.

By: Brandy Black

I just celebrated my birthday a couple weeks ago.  I was born in 1973, the same year that change was declared impossible in the field of psychiatry for gays and lesbians, the year that 81 words became 263 in the nomenclature.   It’s hard for me to believe that only 37 years ago, being gay was a mental illness.  That notion seems like it should be centuries away from where we are today yet it was barely within my lifetime that I may have been locked up because of love for a human being of the wrong sex.  I can’t possibly imagine what gays and lesbians of that time must have felt to be so deeply oppressed.  It would make a person crazy don’t you think?

Susan and I sat in the car listening to NPR quietly playing on the radio as Sophia took her afternoon nap in the back.  The story was about the history of the deletion of homosexuality in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual and the people who fought against the psychiatric board, determined to prove that being gay is simply a variant from heterosexuality and not lunacy.

Prior to this great change in our history, homosexuality was pronounced by the Psychiatric authorities as a mental illness.  “Much literature on mental health and homosexual patients centered on their depression, substance abuse and suicide.” Most of these studies were taken from prisoners and people under extensive psychiatric care.  When one is not accepted for their lifestyle there is obviously a tremendous amount of stress that comes with that burden and so much so that it would likely drive you to severe depression.  These arguments were passionately presented to the board of Psychiatry and at the end of it all it was determined that “social ostracism, legal discrimination, internalization of negative stereotypes, and limited support structures indicate factors homosexual people face in Western societies that often adversely affect their mental health”.

35 years later, in 2008, the year my beautiful daughter was born, we appointed for the first time in American history, an African American President.  The night Barack Obama won I rocked Sophia to sleep sobbing for the amazing change of which our country is capable.  I am proud to say that the only change that is impossible is that of who I was born to be- a girl who loves a girl who has a little girl that completes a happy family.

By: Brandy Black

I couldn’t have said it better than Elizabeth Gilbert in her most recent book Committed…

“Interracial marriage was illegal in the United States until fairly recently.  All of this changed in 1967 with the case of a rural Virginia couple named -poetically enough- the Lovings.  Richard Loving was white; his wife Mildred was black.  When they decided to marry in 1958, interracial unions were still illegal in the commonwealth of Virginia as well as in 15 other American states.  So the young couple sealed their vows in Washington DC instead but when they returned home after their honeymoon they were swiftly apprehended by local police.  The fact that they had married each other at all rendered the couple guilty enough to haul off to jail…

The Lovings moved to Washington DC with the understanding that if they ever again returned to Virginia, they would face a jail sentence…

The Supreme Court in 1967 sealed the legality of “the Lovings” union in a 9 to 0 ruling.  At the time, I must also mention, a poll showed that 70% of Americans vehemently opposed this ruling but the courts were morally ahead of the general population on this matter…

You won’t be surprised will you if I now take a few moments to discuss the subject of same sex marriage…what I can say about the subject is that legalized same sex marriage is coming to America in large part because non-legalized marriage is already here.  Same sex couples already live together openly these days, whether their relationships have been officially sanctioned by their states or not.  Same sex couples are raising children together, paying taxes together, building homes together, running businesses together, creating wealth together and even getting divorced from each other.  All these already existing relationships and social responsibilities must be managed and organized through rule of law in order to keep civil society running smoothly…I recognize that conservatives are worried that homosexuals will destroy and corrupt the institution of marriage but perhaps they should consider a distinct possibility that gay couples are actually poised at this moment in history to save marriage. Think of it!  Marriage is on the decline everywhere, all across the western world.  People are getting married later in life, if they’re getting married at all, or they are producing children willy-nilly out of wedlock, or (like me) they are approaching the whole institution with ambivalence or even hostility…So why not let them in?  Why not recruit them by the vanload to sweep in on heroic wings and save the flagging and battered old institution of matrimony from a bunch of apathetic ne’er-do-well, heterosexual deadbeats like me.  In any case, whatever happens with gay marriage, and whenever it happens, I can also assure you that future generations will someday find it ridiculous to the point of comedy that we ever debated this topic at all.”

This is an excerpt that I couldn’t resist sharing.

By: Brandy Black

This was the conversation I had with Sophia last night, word for word…

Sophia- (she spilled a small amount of spaghetti sauce on her shirt) Mama, my shirt is wet, take off, need to put in the laundry.

Me- Ok, after dinner honey

Sophia- Shirt go to the Laundromat.

Me- We don’t need to go to the Laundromat sweetie- we have a washer and dryer at home, you’re thinking of Trixie from Knuffle Bunny (our favorite book) they don’t have a washer and dryer at home.  Maybe I’ll take you to a Laundromat one of these days so you can see what they look like. Sound good?

Sophia- I would like to see it.

By: Brandy Black

I love the days when I am thrown back in time to memories that I have always cherished.  I heard Sophia banging on the bathroom door shouting “Mom, OPEN the DOOR, MOM”.

“I need my time in the bathroom Sophia, go hang out with Mama” Susan pleaded from the other side.

Sophia ignored her and banged until a little piece of paper slid beneath the door and Sophia giggled, she slid it back and this continued as I washed the dishes and spiraled back in time.

My father and I were inseparable, whenever he was home, I wanted to be with him and when he would try to take 5 minutes of alone time, I, like Sophia would plead at the bathroom door. He would create games with me, songs, whistles, notes from beneath the door to occupy my attention while I waited.   I didn’t care what he was doing I just wanted to be around him.  I coveted our weekly breakfasts at McDonalds, I with my pancakes, he with his hash browns, talking about anything really.  Just my dad and me.

I couldn’t help but think that this might be a memory that Sophia will hold in her heart for years to come, something as simple as slipping a piece of paper between the door and the floor to her mom.

By: Brandy Black

I came home the other day with a receipt in hand, excited to share the news with Susan and Sophia that we have sponsored a child.

Susan- You did what? Where?

Me- Larchmont, 70% of the kids that are sponsored get a college education.

Susan- You got scammed

Brandy- No I didn’t, it’s only 70 cents a day to help save a child’s life!

She laughed at me, I went on to explain that it’s through Children’s International and they have been around for 30 years and that we would be getting a picture of the kid in the mail and a letter and we could even visit the child one day.  A week passed and no letter, no picture, no packet.  After another week went by I called, angry and ready to renounce my monthly payments.  The friendly gentleman on the phone assured me that the packet was on its way and that I had truly saved this child as he was in a destitute situation.  I felt better.  After a couple more days passed with no letter I was cleaning off our side table in our dining room and under a file of papers found the packet.  His name is Lenin and he’s from Ecuador and he is 5 years old.   He’s very handsome and looks curiously healthy- I guess I can’t really be mad at that although I was somewhat disappointed.

He sits on our fridge and now Sophia points up to him and says “Lenin, my sponsor brother”.  Despite Susan’s cynicism and mockery comparing me to “About Schmidt”, I eagerly await his first letter.  Susan does too.

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[photo credit: Flickr- Pink Sherbet Photography]

By: Brandy Black

Sophia’s birthday was last week and her party was on Valentine’s Day.  We had it at Amy’s Playground an indoor play area for kids.  I have been preparing for a month, just little things, toys here, centerpieces there, bracelets, rings, sunglasses, spiral straws, I couldn’t stop, every time I went to Target I would buy more.  I couldn’t go online without finding vintage valentines and miniature rubber ducks.  Susan finally put a moratorium on my toddler shopping sprees.  I had a blast doing it which is not normally how my party planning goes, I’m usually stressed out and making lists galore all the while sure that I’m forgetting something.  What can you screw up with a kid’s party?  I had no fear, only fun, and was convinced that I’m only having children’s parties from here on out.

I dropped off the centerpieces and toys on Friday so that unloading on party day would be a breeze while toting the toddler.  They opened the box and the first thing Amy saw was plastic rings and beaded necklaces.  She explained that those were choking hazards as my daughter and most of her guests were only 2.  My face went flush, I froze and I had that moment that I had played out many times when I was pregnant, that moment where you realize you have no idea what the hell you’re doing.  I felt as if Amy and her staff were looking at me thinking “How have you not killed your child?” I remembered the time my friends Leslie and Jared came over with their two toddlers and I had lit candles all over our house- she had to rapidly blow them out one by one.  What did I know? I wasn’t a mom!  Now, here I was standing there thinking, “What the hell do I know? and shit I’m a mom.” What’s worse is that I actually tried to explain my way out of it, “well they are for the inside of the mailbox centerpieces so the kids won’t be playing with them until the end”.  Amy assured me that there was a good chance that they would be playing with them throughout the party and it was simply not safe. Luckily I had shopped too much as always (much to Susan’s chagrin) and had back-up toys that fit the 2 year old criteria.

The party was a hit, Sophia had a blast, no one choked, Amy’s Playground was beautiful, the staff was on it and took care of every last detail and I would absolutely have a party there again and again and again and finally not one toy was touched from the centerpieces until the end when the angel children politely asked if they could take some rubber ducks home with them.  Better safe than sorry

This was the best money ever spent, the staff took care of everything from beginning to end- they even loaded our car up with all the presents and decorations at the end of the party.

By: Brandy Black

I was listening to NPR the other day, and there was a piece on statistics of happiness among people with kids and those without.  I listened intently as a few single friends of mine that don’t necessarily want kids have been sure to point out this new American Sociological study.  This really bothers me every time it comes up, because I feel estranged from my friends without kids already.  I think that they think I’m too busy being a mom to make time for their friendship so they stop spontaneously asking me if I want to go out on a Friday night or inviting me to their parties.  Funny thing –I’m almost always available, any night of the week.  I’m available more now than I was when I was single.  So, finding a study to point out that your life is happier than mine frankly irritates me.

The irony of it is that the NPR interview states that one of the main reasons parents seem to be less happy than child-free people is that they tend to “give up” the happiness triggers in their life:  going out with friends, going to the movies, etc. Do you think it’s perhaps because we’re not being asked anymore?  I love going out and getting drinks -although I pay for it the next morning when my toddler is bouncing on the bed at 7AM -I still do it because it’s worth it.  It is easy as a parent to cocoon yourself around your family because they make you happy and they get you.  But after hearing that interview, it was a reminder that the other more selfish parts of me are just as important in order to maintain a sense of self beyond my warm cuddly counterparts waiting at home.

So to all you people without kids: I need you and want you in my life.  To all you parents: let’s go out more often, even if only to save the reputation of PEOPLE WITH KIDS.

By: Brandy Black

Susan ran the half-marathon this weekend and Sophia and I went out to cheer her on at the 9 mile water station.  While we waited to see mom run around the corner, we watched all the beaten down runners pass us.  When they heard Sophia yell “Good Job Guys, Yay Runners!” (I was coaxing her along) they all began to pick up their pace and their faces lit up.  We were the only ones out there apart from the marathon volunteers and even though we were there for Susan, it seemed to make the difference for everyone.  I was so emotional as I stood helpless on the sidelines -I had only my encouraging words.  Susan came running around the corner to see Sophia holding her “We love you mom” sign and there was a sweet moment of surprise even though she was expecting us.  We hugged and kissed her and off she went to finish the race.

Soph and I jumped in the car to make it to the finish line.  As I was driving to the Pasadena Rose Bowl I began welling up thinking about the marathon Susan and I did 8 years ago.  It was life changing.  When I committed to running it alongside Susan, I had never run more than 3 miles, I had no concept of what 26.2 miles meant to me physically or mentally.  Susan had been planning it.  She’s a personal trainer, it made sense for her, and I being her girlfriend at the time thought “sure I’ll tag along”.  We got a beginner’s marathon guide and followed it religiously.  As we conquered big milestones –8, 10, 12 miles –I found my outlook on life beginning to change – just little things to start,  but I began to feel more empowered and in control.  As the runs got longer and the marathon closer, I realized Susan and I were transforming.  At the time, we lived in a tiny studio apartment in West Hollywood and when we did our runs we would visualize what we wanted for our lives: the dream condo, the wedding, the kids, the eventual house.  We spent hours running and planning out how our lives would turn out together; we had nothing better to do other than search for the candies that we had strategically pre-placed in bushes of various houses while we drove the mileage before the big runs.  More than anything those runs were a bonding experience for us. We learned a lot about each other.

When Marathon day finally came, we were as ready as we could be.  Our longest run had been 18 miles and we felt prepared. The first 19 miles were a breeze; I was slapping hands of spectators on the sidelines and gulping down Gatorade and glazed donuts at every pit stop. At mile 20 Susan fell from grace and begin to drag her way through. At 22 I hit my wall and the last 4.2 miles were the longest 45 minutes of our lives.  We could barely breathe let alone talk.  My eyes were so blurry that I couldn’t see the Wiltern theatre standing right in front of us.

Me: Where are we?

Susan: We’re 3 miles away babe.

Me: I can’t do it.

Susan: Remember the visualizations; let’s talk about our condo.

Me: No, don’t talk about that right now, I can’t do it.

Susan: Ok I want you to picture the finish line, we’re raising our arms and crossing and all of our friends are watching.

Me: No, I can’t do it.

Susan: Ok, I’m here, we’re doing it together.

We ran silently weeping, silently cursing, silently together.  I ached in every muscle and shivered from dehydration.  We hobbled along for what seemed like eternity.

Me: ARE WE THERE YET?

Susan: Yes baby, can’t you hear the people screaming?

Me: No, where’s the finish line?

Susan: Right ahead of us, see the balloons?

Me: No! where?  TELL ME THE TRUTH!

Susan: It’s right there baby.

Me: I can’t see it.

Susan: We’re ten feet away, we’re there baby, we’re there, we’re here, we’re under, you’re ok.

I slowed to a stop, someone wrapped Mylar around me and I crumbled to the ground.  We were broken and I could never have made those last 4.2 miles without Susan by my side.  We had conquered the biggest physical challenge of our lives, together.

A few months later we bought our dream condo and got married.  The walls that I had built around myself had crashed to the ground.  I had no boundaries, my world became limitless and I realized that I was capable of anything.  I had changed because of that marathon.  Since then I have always vowed that if I ever felt “stuck” I would prescribe myself a marathon.

Standing with Sophia in my arms, I watched Susan race to the finish on her own and conquer yet another challenge.  I knew what that meant to her and I couldn’t have been more proud.

By: Brandy Black

So now that my daughter has taken to only tank tops and dresses she is now also insisting on dressing herself in the morning. She is coming up with the oddest combinations: pink and brown flower dress paired with a lovely green and pink ice cream cone-printed tank top with pink pants.  It’s oddly a cute combination in a Selma Blair kind of way but certainly not attire that I would take her out of the house in. I didn’t think anything of it until we were about to go out.

“Angel, maybe we should take the tank top off and just put a coat over the dress.”

“Nooooooooo Mama NOoooooooo”

I began to cringe. Why do I care?  I always thought it was ridiculous that moms would enforce their fashion style on their kids, but now here I am trying to convince my 2 year old to dress the way I want her to.  I find myself wanting to explain to the barista at the coffee shop why Sophia looks miss-matched today.  I’m going to practice shutting my mouth and letting her be the vibrant person that she is becoming. I may even learn some tips from her along the way.  What do I know about fashion anyway?