Hunter is growing up so fast and the speed at which he's jettisoning toward puberty and adulthood seems to be increasing exponentially with each passing day. That increase is partly due to media influences and the messaging about being cool sometimes equals being sexy. That message is putting unnecessary pressure on our kids to do adult things before they are adults and have the right coping skills and understanding of the consequences of their actions.
Hunter and I recently enjoyed some one-on-one time in the car after we dropped my beautiful niece with my parents in Boston. So, as Hunter and I hit the highway to head home to New Jersey, we enjoyed some deep conversation. As a few dear friends with older children have predicted, the car proved to be conducive to really complicated topics. I think the car creates an environment in which children, especially boy-children, open up and talk. Perhaps it's just ergonomically-friendly when a son is talking to the back of his mom's head and can't see the fleeting panic cross her face as this question is asked: "Mom, is sex fun?"
Now, the emotions that flooded my mind as this question left Hunter's lips were overwhelming. I am quite proud that I was able to compose myself quickly enough to ask, "What makes you ask that?" It was the classic "answer a question with a question" strategy meant to buy me more time to craft a thoughtful answer that didn't scar Hunter for life. As I waited for his response, I was choosing whether to be honest and say, "yes" or answer dishonestly and have this become the pivotal moment of his future need for sex-therapy by telling him, "Absolutely not. . . it hurts like hell!"
He said that he saw a promotion for a documentary on History Channel or Discovery Channel where the host explores why different things are fun. Apparently, the next topic was to be "Why is Sex Fun?"
So, I seized this major teaching moment and decided to be honest. I answered, "Yes, Hunter, it is fun and that's why people make such a big deal about it. But, it's also incredibly special and I hope you chose your first experience to be with someone you love. Ideally, I'd like that person to be your wife." I continued my answer with this bit of advice: "Your first time with sex is something that you can't take back and I don't ever want you to regret your decision." He paused and took this in and then added, "And I have to use a condom right?"
I felt myself clench the steering wheel even harder, grateful for the dark of night cloaking both my white knuckles and my crimson cheeks. "Absolutely, Hunter. And not just to keep a girl from getting pregnant, but also to make sure you don't get any diseases." I instantly felt remorse over my glee that Donna had "the talk" with him several months earlier, so I didn't have to deal with it. Now that he knew the mechanics, the questions were getting harder and the topics more complicated than the clinical aspects of puberty and sex. That will teach me for thinking I got away with anything!
Fortunately, we moved on to his sharing that he really didn't want to have children, and reasons around that. So, the more scandalous topic had passed. What was still foremost in my mind was the gratitude I had that he felt comfortable enough to talk to Donna and me about this topic rather than get misinformation from his peers.
In retrospect, I envy my son. He can have an open conversation about sex with me and not feel that he has to hide any secrets about himself. I had the same experience with my mother decades earlier, but I left out the part about my being gay. I think this omission caused me to make poor choices when I came out and experienced a "second puberty." I didn't treat some of my relationships with the care and consideration I should have largely because I didn't know how to treat myself with the care and consideration I deserved.
I'm glad I outgrew that phase and I'm also glad that I've grown enough personally to treat myself and thereby the relationship I have with my wife with the love and respect we both deserve. I pray that all young people and adults, whether they be gay or straight, use respect and love as their moral compass as they travel through their romantic relationships. Because as I admitted to Hunter; sex is fun, but it's sacred, too.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
"What I like most about me is that I love you."
As I was out with Skye earlier today, I was telling her that I couldn't pick only one thing that I liked best about her because she has so many great qualities I couldn't chose just one. So, after telling her how smart, funny and gorgeous she was, I asked her what she liked most about herself.
She answered, "What I like most about me is that I love you." When I tell you that I nearly drove off the road, I'm not exaggerating. It's moments like this, when the sweet honesty and genuine feelings are expressed that take my breath away. Some cynics, myself among them, would also point to that moment as anecdotal evidence that the human race will never end.
I have discovered that parenting is tremendously challenging. So, the currency of patience and adoration that those memories deposit in our hearts and minds is priceless. All too often I'll find myself at the end of my rope, feeling so fragmented that I only have enough focus to get from task to task and question why I ever chose to be a parent. During those moments I wonder if I have enough patience, acceptance and unconditional love to get them to adulthood with student loans instead of therapy bills. And then, Skye will make a remark like that or Hunter will come over and give a seemingly random hug at the moment I need it most.
Those moments snap me out of auto-pilot mode and back into a conscious, purposeful approach in my parenting and in all relationships for that matter. Like I've heard many brave parents share, I know that I can get buried in work and lose my focus on the priorities. Finding time to have those precious moments is tough, and as they grow older, Skye's and Hunter's calendars are getting full too, which adds to the complexity.
I think making sure we have regular checkpoints with members of our family becomes critical. Times where we can spend time collectively as a family and time when it's one on one time with one of the children. Sometimes it's as simple as grabbing one of them to go run some errands together. That kind of moment was exactly when Skye told me that the thing she loved most about herself was that she loved me. Who knew that grabbing bread, milk, and eggs could be such a powerful recipe for connectedness? I'm sure a lot of seasoned parents did, and I'm glad I now know that secret, too.
She answered, "What I like most about me is that I love you." When I tell you that I nearly drove off the road, I'm not exaggerating. It's moments like this, when the sweet honesty and genuine feelings are expressed that take my breath away. Some cynics, myself among them, would also point to that moment as anecdotal evidence that the human race will never end.
I have discovered that parenting is tremendously challenging. So, the currency of patience and adoration that those memories deposit in our hearts and minds is priceless. All too often I'll find myself at the end of my rope, feeling so fragmented that I only have enough focus to get from task to task and question why I ever chose to be a parent. During those moments I wonder if I have enough patience, acceptance and unconditional love to get them to adulthood with student loans instead of therapy bills. And then, Skye will make a remark like that or Hunter will come over and give a seemingly random hug at the moment I need it most.
Those moments snap me out of auto-pilot mode and back into a conscious, purposeful approach in my parenting and in all relationships for that matter. Like I've heard many brave parents share, I know that I can get buried in work and lose my focus on the priorities. Finding time to have those precious moments is tough, and as they grow older, Skye's and Hunter's calendars are getting full too, which adds to the complexity.
I think making sure we have regular checkpoints with members of our family becomes critical. Times where we can spend time collectively as a family and time when it's one on one time with one of the children. Sometimes it's as simple as grabbing one of them to go run some errands together. That kind of moment was exactly when Skye told me that the thing she loved most about herself was that she loved me. Who knew that grabbing bread, milk, and eggs could be such a powerful recipe for connectedness? I'm sure a lot of seasoned parents did, and I'm glad I now know that secret, too.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
"Does this make my boobs look good?"
If you want to discover your inner-prude, just spend the summer with a blossoming teenager who is literally on the bridge between childhood and adulthood. My niece Taylor is rapidly moving toward her 16th birthday and like most teenage girls, is super-conscious about her body image. She's stunning, and like most young women, is her own worst critic. She sees all her "flaws" magnified exponentially in her own mind. So, when Donna shared a moment she had with Taylor, it brought tremendous comic relief.
Donna was preparing something in the kitchen and Taylor trotted downstairs to show off a new top she had just received and asked Donna, "Auntie, does this make my boobs look good?"
Now, although Donna is a HUGE flirt with her peers, she was raised in a Trinidadian household which was heavily influenced by British sensibilities and traditions like afternoon tea, and underscored with uninhibited Caribbean culture like Carnival. So, this innocent question posed by an American teenager sent her into a tailspin. She told me, "I'm feeling awkward looking at her chest, but she wants me to look at her chest, to tell her if her boobs look good." I think she played it off cool, by saying, "Sure." And then immediately averted eye-contact by busying herself with preparing dinner.
For Donna, this was where body image and internal homophobia met. Donna met Taylor when she was younger than Skye is now. She was four years old. Donna used to read to her during our visits to Maine. Any child who has experienced a story read by Donna knows that you never know what kind of accents and action she will bring to the table. So imagine Donna's plight as our now teenage niece posed that question to her lesbian aunt.
I've learned from spending time with Taylor that her attitude on GLBT issues is very progressive. To her, it's no big deal and many of her closest friends are gay or bisexual. I'm glad she's growing up during a time when that topic is no longer taboo. So, to Taylor, it was no big deal to ask that question. She said that she asks her mom questions like that all the time.
All I know is that my Trini wife's world was rocked. She's since recovered, but it's remarkable how aware we become about our subconscious gender conditioning and generation gaps. When gender and generations collide, it demonstrates how our Puritanical roots are still very much part of our moral compass.
I don't want to believe that the same rapid pace with which the past 11 years have passed for Taylor will repeat itself with Skye. I simply hope that God is kind in how soon we experience Skye trotting down the steps asking the same question Taylor asked. It will mean our baby has retreated to a special place in her own heart and the woman she was meant to be would be moments from appearing. So, I intend on savoring every moment between now and then.
Donna was preparing something in the kitchen and Taylor trotted downstairs to show off a new top she had just received and asked Donna, "Auntie, does this make my boobs look good?"
Now, although Donna is a HUGE flirt with her peers, she was raised in a Trinidadian household which was heavily influenced by British sensibilities and traditions like afternoon tea, and underscored with uninhibited Caribbean culture like Carnival. So, this innocent question posed by an American teenager sent her into a tailspin. She told me, "I'm feeling awkward looking at her chest, but she wants me to look at her chest, to tell her if her boobs look good." I think she played it off cool, by saying, "Sure." And then immediately averted eye-contact by busying herself with preparing dinner.
For Donna, this was where body image and internal homophobia met. Donna met Taylor when she was younger than Skye is now. She was four years old. Donna used to read to her during our visits to Maine. Any child who has experienced a story read by Donna knows that you never know what kind of accents and action she will bring to the table. So imagine Donna's plight as our now teenage niece posed that question to her lesbian aunt.
I've learned from spending time with Taylor that her attitude on GLBT issues is very progressive. To her, it's no big deal and many of her closest friends are gay or bisexual. I'm glad she's growing up during a time when that topic is no longer taboo. So, to Taylor, it was no big deal to ask that question. She said that she asks her mom questions like that all the time.
All I know is that my Trini wife's world was rocked. She's since recovered, but it's remarkable how aware we become about our subconscious gender conditioning and generation gaps. When gender and generations collide, it demonstrates how our Puritanical roots are still very much part of our moral compass.
I don't want to believe that the same rapid pace with which the past 11 years have passed for Taylor will repeat itself with Skye. I simply hope that God is kind in how soon we experience Skye trotting down the steps asking the same question Taylor asked. It will mean our baby has retreated to a special place in her own heart and the woman she was meant to be would be moments from appearing. So, I intend on savoring every moment between now and then.
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