By: Pearson Brown

All good things come to an end, and so we departed Telluride yesterday for home.  We made the most of our short trip and finished with a whoosh.

We began our final day with a snowmobiling tour with Telluride Snowmobiling Adventures, thanks to a few hours’ timeout arranged by the Peaks Resort with a local nanny service.  Our super cute and friendly guide, Sam Haury, suited us up with warm boots and goggles, and we hopped on our machines and sped off in the freshly fallen snow high into the mountains.  Sam stopped along the way to give us an educational tour of the historic spots, such as the Alta Ghost Town where miners and their families once lived.  We also learned that Telluride was the first in the world to have electric street lights (a week before Paris) thanks to the world’s first hydro-electric power plant built in 1904 to power the Smuggler-Union Mine.  By the end of our two-hour tour, we not only truly appreciated the beauty and history of Telluride, we were expert snowmobilers, flying over whoop-de-dos and winding our way around curves through snow-covered forests with ease.  It was a blast.  As Kira put it, “I couldn’t stop smiling.”

Midday, at last, I got to enjoy Telluride Gay Ski Week to its fullest by hitting the slopes.  Kira was sidelined by her back injury from our first day, so I went solo.  Being a single I found out wasn’t so bad at all.  I sailed right into the chair lift singles line and got paired for the ride with many interesting people, from tourists to locals, and even a four-year old.

I started off slow on the green-circle “easiest way down” slopes.  That’s when I met my four-year old chair-lift companion, who a ski instructor asked if I could “look after” as he scooted onto the take-off platform with me.  He was so tiny that even sitting as far back as he could he was on the edge of the seat, dangling his little legs and skis.  I noticed that he had on a special training vest with a loop stitched into the back whereby the ski instructor could get a grip on him.  Being a nervous mom, I grabbed onto the loop and held him until we reached the other side.  The he took off the chair lift like a pro.

My own runs down the slopes were the best ever in my lifetime skiing career. The snow was perfect.  No ice, groomed, packed powder, and I had the trails almost to myself.  Once I got my ski legs back, I headed for more technical terrain, and the entire day I fell only once, which I swore never to do again, as I was so out of shape that it took me at least five minutes to get myself back up.  Ugh!  Overall though, it was absolutely the best skiing I had ever experienced.

Our last night we had a fabulous dinner at Allred’s, the town’s premier fine dining establishment.  The restaurant has the best views in town, perched at 10,000 above sea level, at the midway point of the gondola between Mountain Village and the town of Telluride.  A first sign of the excellent service to come, the restaurant had a highchair awaiting us and had already cleared the steak knives from the setting for Stephen when we arrived.  Shortly after we were seated, the server brought out an ample portion of good ‘ol Mac n Cheese for our picky little eater, who, to our surprise, finished the entire plate.  We started off with an Alaskan crab salad (Allred’s is the only place serving the delicacy this time of year) with artichoke hearts and served on smoked salmon.  For our main course, Kira had a perfectly cooked filet, and I had a delicious (and certified sustainably harvested) Chilean Bass.  To accompany our entrees, we also had several scrumptious tasting plates of mussels, gourmet grilled cheeses, creamy parmesan spinach and spiced French fries.  Very satisfying!

After dinner we headed home.  After some warm milk, Stephen was out like a light.  Kira and I watched some Olympic ice dancing and then passed out ourselves.  A great end to a wondrous day.

We packed up and met our Telluride Express shuttle at 10:15 am, and after a long winding drive down the mountain we arrived at the tiny Montrose airport with plenty of time and not much to do.  Luckily we brought along sandwiches, so we ate at the one and only cafe at the airport, just outside the one and only gate waiting area, and boarded soon after.  The flight was uneventful, and Stephen was amazingly well-behaved for a two-year old, and thankfully, there was no vomiting this time.  But also no sleeping.  Play Doh and snacks helped wile away the hours until we finally arrived back at LAX, where our new nanny Sam picked us up.  Sam hopped in the back seat and tried to text her friends on the ride home, but Kira and I couldn’t stop telling her about how terrific our trip was.  Stephen interjected too, and tattle-tailed on Kira, “Mama slipped on the ice and dropped me.”  Stephen added that he wanted to see Grandma so he could also tell her that Mama slipped on the ice and dropped him.

It was nice to be home, unpack, get the laundry started and sleep in our own beds, but when I looked out the window, I wished I saw snow.  It was too short a trip to visit such an incredible place.  But as the locals kept saying, “You can always come back, and the summer season is even better!”

[photo credit: Flickr Greyskullduggery]

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

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: K. Pearson Brown

Sometimes as a gay mom I feel I represent all gay moms, so I have to be careful, or else I can ruin it for everyone if I do something that would not make us all proud. Sort of like an ex of mine who took her freedom rings from around her neck and removed the inverted pink triangle button on her jean jacket (ok, it was in the 90s) because we were going to the store and she was not in full make-up and hair. She explained, I don’t want to be a bad lesbian. I get it now. So if one lesbian goes to Macy’s looking ragged, an unenlightened straight person might think, “That is how lesbians look.”
Same with being a gay mom. So if a rude kid at the park takes my son’s shovel from him in the sand pit, then I have to first put on my gay mom hat before I react. Otherwise, that mom might think, “Those lesbian moms, always so touchy.”
So the other day when my son Stephen found a toy on the sidewalk the other day, a Big Bird finger puppet, I realized this was going to be one of those gay mom moments.
I had washed the toy and my son was carrying it everywhere with him. He has dozens of great, new, expensive and designer toys, but this is the one he chose as his favorite, for now. But when my partner ran into the neighbor’s nanny out scouring the lawn, looking for the toy, we learned it belonged to Griffin, the baby three doors down who had dropped it. Actually, it was his father’s childhood toy (he was a young dad).
So my partner came inside and told me the news, and we knew we had to take the toy back to Baby Griffin. This is when I surmised that how we handled this situation would be how we would be judged as lesbian moms. After all, we were the only two-mom household on the block, and although all the neighbors are friendly with us, still, we are aware that to them all we are are the “lezzies with the kid” that live on their street.
We thought it best to tell our son that the toy belonged to Griffin and that we needed to return it. We thought it best that Stephen hand it over to Griffin himself. So we strolled down to the neighbors with Big Bird, and when Griffin’s mom answered the door, we excitedly told Stephen, “You get to give Griffin his toy back, you will make him so happy, won’t that be nice!”
Stephen had a fit. He didn’t want to let go of the toy, and all hell let loose. He threw a tantrum, screaming and yelling as my partner tried to gently pry the toy from his fingers. It is amazing how strong their little grip can be when they don’t want to let go of something. Finally, the toy was handed to Griffin’s mom who smiled politely and sympathetically. Stephen had to be dragged away kicking and screaming.
So, despite the best laid plans, Stephen has no idea his moms are lesbians or what that means. He is a two-and-a-half-year-old boy, and that is how they act when a prized toy is taken from them.
The moral of the story is that Stephen was the genuine one of us, expressing how he felt without any thought about what other people thought of him. His behavior was age appropriate, but I had to wonder about mine.
I realized I had to stop worrying about what people might think of me, like I did in junior high school, and just be a mom. If I were gay or not, I would have handled the situation with Big Bird just the same, so why not just do what I feel compelled to do as a mom and forget that I am a gay mom. I am just a mom. And so is my partner. Thanks for the lesson Big Bird.
P.S. I went on eBay and found a very similar toy. A couple days after it arrived, Stephen was already over it.

Out With Mommy

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?

By: Brandy Black

Really?  My amazing, beautiful, smart, sweet child has CHANGED!  A few minutes out of each day, she becomes a TERROR.  What has happened to her? Everything is lovely, we’re laughing, having a tea party and she’ll walk up with a big smile and grab my cheek and pinch as hard as her little fingers can.

OUCH!

She will follow up with a frantic scratching and pinching.  Susan and I now have matching marks on our faces.  It hurts, for one, but worse –we can’t figure out how to make it stop.  We’ve tried ignoring, explaining, holding hands down, fake crying, all of it, and she still does it.

Is this just a phase that we have to ride out?  Is there a cure-all for this stage?  Is there a good book? Feel free to share your knowledge.  We need it and soon or my next blog photo will be Susan, Bailey (our dog) and me wrapped in bandages.

By: Rosy Barren

Today I lay recovering from my retrieval.  I’m happy to report that I didn’t feel or remember a thing.  I woke up with my partner and my doctor by my side only to find out that they retrieved 4 eggs.  This was a bit of shock coming from having 11 follicles. Well 4 eggs, that’s good enough for me.  Now we have to see if they “take” and become embryos.  I wait and rest and am scheduled for a transfer in a couple days.  I’m praying for my little guys that sit in a cold room in a tiny Petri dish and hope that they all survive.  I can’t believe how patient one must be to go through this process.  I’ve taken up biting my nails but I’m full of hope, finally.

By: Brandy Black

So as promised I went to my local library and researched the children’s books for children with gay parents. I had addressed this in a previous post Always Learning because a fellow reader of The Next Family told me that in Seattle the children’s books for gay families are in the adult section. I am proud to report that Los Angeles Public Library keeps these books in the Juvenile (Children’s) section. I was pleased to find this out but the selection was very limited. There were only 3 books available at the branch I went to. I have since decided to compile a list to give to my local librarian in hopes that they will consider enhancing their selection.
Here is my list- send me comments if you can think of anymore:

And Tango Makes Three
King and King
Heather Has Two Moms
One Dad, Two Dad, Brown Dad, Blue Dad
Emma and Meesha My Boy
Mum and Mum Are Getting Married
Mommy, Mama and Me
Oh The Things Mommies Do