Time to Talk


I went and read to my daughters’ Kindergarten class this afternoon.  What I thought was going to be a “read three books and leave” commitment turned into a ” read three books and repeat one and then talk” adventure.  It was actually kind of fun, though – in all honesty.  The kids were really into the books – they asked questions and answered questions that I posed – and, best of all, the whole event brought a huge smile to my daughters face the whole time I was there.  Seemed pretty perfect to me.

I was actually nervous about this, though.  Not about having the right books or making sure I was doing things right, like some people probably are.  Or, well, maybe people *aren’t* really nervous about reading to Kindergarten-aged children.  Regardless, I was – but for a reason most people probably aren’t.  THAT – I’m absolutely sure of.

I haven’t had the “Daddy’s gay” talk with my daughter yet, partially because I don’t think has been at the age to truly understand it…and partially because it terrifies me to do so.  My partner and I have discussed this in length and have decided it’s best for me to have this discussion with her sooner (like…very soon) rather than later – mainly for fear that the thoughts and opinions of others around her could put a bad thought in her head concerning gays, in general.

I want her to understand love.  I want her to understand that it’s not meant to be a conditional factor that can be pulled out from under you if you don’t believe what others do.  I want her to see the true love that exists between me and (to her) my roommate, Dusty – and to finally understand that it’s the same love she will hopefully have someday…with someone.  And we’re not bad people because of that.  We’re not wrong.  We’re not weird.  The sooner she realizes this and understands it – the sooner I believe she will be able to discern what is right or wrong when people speak of it.

Thinking about actually talking to her about it makes me light-headed and it feels like my heart will pound straight out of my chest.  But both my heart and my head know this is the right thing to do.  It’s necessary in the grand scheme of things.  Is the reason I’m so terrified because I don’t know what she’ll think about all of it?  Or because I’m nervous about what others will say to her?  Or because I’m a pussy when it comes to this type of serious discussion?  Yes to everything listed above.  But none of that overrides my desire to be up front – honest – and true with the greatest gift I’ve ever had in my entire life.

Maybe I’ll just have her read this blog post……



Thoughts? Let me have 'em...

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