From Which Mom’s Belly Did Thee Pop?
Posted by Debra Baker on January 30, 2009
“I don’t get something, Mommy. Why did Drew have one mommy at the chess tournament this week and a different mommy last week?”
“Duh, Sarah, he’s got two mommies, ” Max interrupts, in his I-am-oh-so-much-more-brilliant-than-my-dumb-first-grade-sister tone.
Though I have a slice of pizza in one hand, I grasp a pencil and pull an envelope from the pile of bills stacked next to me. I am prepared. This banter is about to get interesting. Very interesting. And the reporter in me is desperate to capture every word.
I wait. Not for long.
“Was there a divorce?” asks the six year old.
Divorce? When did she learn about divorce?
“No, Sarah,” answers Wise Eight Year Old, exasperated. “There never was a dad.”
When did he become an expert on this kid’s family? He barely knows him. But this boy has inherited his father’s shmoozing genes, so, somehow, I trust his assessment of the family background.
“But there’s one thing I don’t get, Mommy,” he says.
One thing? Yeah, right. Here comes the blizzard. Hold on, buddy. Hold the floodgates. Let me Google, “How To Talk to Your Children about Homosexuality” or, at least, let me Phone-a-Friend. Give me some time. Where the heck is that parenting manual that I have not opened in three years? You know, the one with all of the answers?
“Which mom’s belly did Drew pop out of?”
Which belly? Belly! I love that. Okay, I have an answer for that one.
“Honey, I don’t really know. It’s not our business. And babies don’t pop out of bellies.”
Oh man. Did I really need to add that last part? Did I really want to have The Sex Talk right now, over a pizza dinner, with my husband stuck in traffic on Highway 40? What was I thinking?
“Wait. I don’t get it,” Sarah pipes in. “Are the two moms married?”
I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not. You see, Honey, Harvey Milk tried…he really tried but people they just don’t like…they just don’t…and now in California, it’s all a mess because…
“Probably not, but I don’t really know. They love each other, so they decided that they wanted to live with each other and have a life together. Every family is different.”
When did I become an expert on this kid’s family? I don’t even know these people. But, I guess that’s a decent answer. I’ll give it a seven. Not quite Mother of the Year, but not terrible.
“But if they just love each other and they’re not married, then how can they have a baby?”
Had I instructed her on The Order — marriage first, babies second? I didn’t remember. I start to perspire and wonder if my husband is ever going to get home from work. This is getting complicated.
“Wait…can boys marry boys?”
Well, you see, Son, voters have approved constitutional amendments codifying marriage as an exclusively heterosexual institution.
“Wait.” Max suddenly remembers the importance of the woman’s belly. “But if they did, they couldn’t have any kids.”
“Well, I think it would be great to have two mommies,” Sarah announces. “Because Dads aren’t that great at cooking. And then one mommy could play with the kids while the other mommy cooks dinner.”
Down with Daddies.
“I think it would be bad because you wouldn’t have a dad.”
Up with Daddies.
****
It is a Thursday, which means that, earlier today, twelve boys had congregated in my room, as they do every Thursday, for The Baker Boys-Only After School Book Club. Today, we talked about Indian culture, about anger, and about forgiveness, but mostly we just listened. We listened to Sherman Alexie reading his powerful narrative, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, to this description of the narrator’s grandmother, who had just been killed by a drunk driver:
And, yeah, my grandmother was smart and kind and had traveled to about 100 different Indian reservations, but that had nothing to do with her greatness.
My grandmother’s greatest gift was tolerance...
My grandmother had no use for all the gay bashing in the world, especially among other Indians.
“Jeez,” she said. “Who cares if a man wants to marry another man? All I want to know is who’s going to pick up all the dirty socks?”
****
And as I sit at our dinner table talking about Drew’s two moms, I think about this grandmother and I wonder how she became the person that she did. And I think about being a mom and trying to teach my children that answers are not always simple and that laws are not always fair and that love does not always look the way that it does in those silly Princess stories. And I want to utter profound truths, but, instead, I feel like I have barely said anything.
“Mom, I think I get it now.”
You do, Sarah? Really? I smile.
“And I don’t really think we should ask Drew which belly he popped out of. I don’t think that’s a nice question.”
Yeah. Probably not, Sweetie.
Tolerance.
“But, Mom, I have another question and it’s important, so make sure you keep writing stuff down.”
Here we go. I’m ready.
“Who exactly invented pizza?”
January 31st, 2009 at 4:05 pm
I remember thinking the same thing about the mother in Alexie’s book.
So, did you find out about the pizza?
January 31st, 2009 at 7:44 pm
I have had those belly conversations before with my son when he was little and I know how they can make you sweat. My daughter is only four now but very much into wanting to understand the order of everyone’s family. I’ve been married twice – first to a Steve Smith and now to a Greg Smith. Total coincidence, but it’s nice the kids all have the same last name – for the most part. But Haylee can’t get things straight. She’s always asking about Stevie’s (her brother) other mommy (step-mom) and just last night she asked me where her other mommy was. It was interesting trying to explain that she only has one mommy and Stevie has two. When she draws those cute preschool-this-is-my-family-of-stick-figures, she usually includes a baby in the picture. She says, “This is my sister, Jackie.” Jackie is Stevie’s half sister. I just smile and think, “One day I’ll explain it to her.”
Don’t you just love their innocence, whether it’s first grade or pre-K. Last night on the drive home, out of nowhere (like most things from Haylee), she announced, “When I was born, I had a born-day! We had a born-day party and they named me Haylee Elizabeth Smith. And now I’m Haylee Smith. Mommy, what will my name be when I get married?”
February 2nd, 2009 at 11:02 am
Oh yeah we’ve circled around the sex and sexuality topics a couple of times – in ever closer circles it seems. So far we’ve made it to Uterus not belly, and the general exit strategy of birth – yet somehow dodged the question of origin. Ironically this question has reappeared in a discussion about curse words. “…but what does the F-word MEAN, Dad?” asked MY 8-yr old. “Umm, we’ll talk about it after Channukah…I mean Passover.”
February 3rd, 2009 at 9:25 pm
I really enjoyed both the subject matter and the writing. I can totally picture this conversation happening at your kitchen table over pizza, and i wish i could have been there to help you out! It made me laugh in the beginning, got much more deep and serious, but left me with a big smile on my face in the end
It’s truly amazing how much the kids know without being taught and also very refreshing to see how much they still have to learn. And you are a great teacher, so as evident by the wisdom of this entry, they are in very good hands! I love you so much and look forward to your next blog post <3
May 7th, 2009 at 4:17 pm
Great story.
Don’t worry about explaining all that same-sex stuff to them.
I’ll get them books for Hanukkah instead of Cat in the Hat.
Dad