Since becoming a daddy, I can't even put into words how lucky and blessed I feel...parenthood is truly a miracle.
With that being said, I recently (and most inadvertently, I might add) stumbled upon a secret truth that I am sure they don't want me to discuss. And so, at great risk to myself, I have decided to share this secret with you, if for no other reason than to stick it to the man.
On Saturday evening, our son's two new teeth were acting particularly aggressive in their quest to escape his gums. It was clear our son was uncomfortable, and as a result, he did everything he could to let us know of his discomfort and annoyance. While a nice cool washcloth seemed to sooth his mouth, it was clear that he had had enough with it all, and he wasn't going to cooperate with anyone.
After my foolish attempts to carry him around/lay him down/feed him/play with him in his baby gym/promise him a pony/trip to Disneyland/car if he would just stop crying and calm down, I slumped myself down on the couch with my squirmy, fussy son in my lap. And then I saw it. Across the room, there it was. And right at that very moment, angelic voices began to sing and a light shone down from above, bathing my salvation in beautiful, soft light.
After yelling at my brother to turn down his Jars of Clay CD, and after my mother shut off the upstairs hallway light, it hit me. I had left my tea water in the microwave. So, with fussy, squirmy, un-consolable baby in arms, I stood up and started walking to the kitchen to retrieve my water. On my way to the next room, my bichon puppies had decided it was play time, and they began to chase each other all over the house. As I turned to check out the noise (and yell at them to quiet down...after all, my son was making enough noise for them all at the moment), my large toe connected with the foot of the baby swing...and the baby swing stood its ground.
I couldn't help it. It was a natural reaction. The string of expletives was there, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But my son - my infant son - was right there, in my arms, his little, precious ears just inches from my mouth. And so I made a decision. I closed my mouth just before the words could hit my lips, so that what escaped was the equivalent to the sound I imagine a cow would make as it is being tipped in the middle of the night by some rowdy hooligan teenagers with nothing better to do than to tip over unsuspecting livestock in the middle of a pasture.
So while I am dancing up and down on one foot, clutching my son tightly while sounding like a seriously pissed-off, close-lipped cow on its way to the ground, I hear it. Above the noise of the yapping dogs, above the recently "turned-down" Jars of Clay background music, and above my own disturbingly nauseating cow-noise, my son uttered a brief coo. A coo of joy. A coo that screamed, "hey, dad, that was funny". And he had calmed down.
But now I was in trouble. How was I going to keep him calm? My eyes darted around the room again, in a vain attempt to find the magic answer that would keep my son coo-ing in calmness. My mind feebly jumped from promise to promise, hoping it would stumble across the item my 4-month would accept as an offering (let's be honest...not an offering so much as a bribe) for a few moments of peace. In my desperation, I glanced at the object that had caused me such physical pain - the bane of my existence for that moment in time....the bully itself - that stupid swing.
Well, maybe I should have been hit in the head by the swing, because when I was looking at it again, my brother once more turned his music up and my mom once again turned on the light upstairs, casting a soft glow on the swing in front of me. I quickly strapped my son in, set the speed, and stood back, waiting nervously and watching for his reaction...
Silence. Back and forth he swung. And still I was able to relish the peace that had been granted me by my assailant. After limping into the kitchen to fetch my luke-warm tea, I had no sooner slumped into my over-stuffed chair than the inevitable occurred. The swing began to slow, its movements labored and dying. As the batteries relinquished the very last of their charge, my son began to jerk around, and it was only a matter of time before his wail of irritation pierced the brief, yet utterly beautiful silence.
Later that night, after my husband had fed our son and prepared him for bed, I gave my son a kiss goodnight, laid him in his bassinet, and turned on his aquarium toy that hangs at his reach. No sooner had I myself climbed into bed and found my most comfortable spot, then I heard it. Rock-a-Bye-Baby was the tune, but something was different...something was wrong.
The tempo was much too slow. It sounded as if the tune was being pulled through molasses...and as I listened to the slow, garbled tune that was once peaceful and calming, I realized the conspiracy in parenting. As the batteries on the aquarium faded, I knew then I was trapped, forever linked to Duracell and Energizer....It was then I made a commitment to my survival as a parent...If I was going to cling to my last thread of sanity, I would forever have on-hand an arsenal of fully-charged batteries.
In telling you this, I had hoped to stick it to the man. And yet, I know that when I go home tonight, and we are saying our prayers before bed, thanking God for our son and our family, I am also going to give thanks for that copper-top and that stupid Energizer bunny, for without them, I fear any chance at peace might forever be lost.
His2Dads
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Friday, December 7, 2007
An Important Decision
Eleven days ago, I made my inaugural dive into the cool, sweet waters of Blogging in the world of the Internet. From the moment I jumped from the cliffs of Publish Post, I found myself surrounded by the winds of Anticipation, wondering who, if any, would be around to see my splash.
As I made the decision to write my first entry, I was attracted by the idea of sharing a part of my life with the unknown. This attraction was more intense because, in many ways, I have chosen to live a more-guarded life "in the real-world". Most people, I believe, are able to take some small pieces of their personal lives with them as they transition into their professional lives. For example, most people don't stop being married when they cross the thresholds of their places of business. When, in casual conversation, they are asked about their families, they can reply without thought. This is not always the case for me.
As a teacher, I am, and I quote, "held to a higher standard." And I am honored to uphold this standard, as I understand the trust placed in me by the public, and the vitality of the work I do to change the lives of my students.
However, it has been my experience that we are not upheld to the same standard. Just walk down the halls of any school. Located on the desks of many teachers, you will find similar artifacts: photos of families representing the people and the events that are significant to those teachers' lives. Brief remarks in reference to spouses made in passing can be heard occasionally in lessons, if only to connect with students - "My wife is having our baby soon, so there will be a guest teacher in the classroom for awhile" -or- "My husband and I went to Hawaii for our honeymoon; has anyone ever been to Hawaii?". Students are even aware of the personal symbols we wear as subtle announcements of our marital status.
My classroom is different. Oh, I have pictures on my desks, but none exclusively celebrate my commitment to my partner; he is there, but buried in a group family-photo. And I wear a ring every day, but I find myself making some side-stepping, humorous comment when questioned about my "wife" - "Mr. Journeyman, how long have you and your wife been married?" to which I reply, "I don't know, Sallie. How long have you and your husband been married?", followed by a small laugh and a very quick change of topic.
Don't get me wrong. I do not begrudge any of my straight friends for the freedoms they may take for granted. And I am very much aware that there are more and more gay teachers living and working openly, and that society seems more accepting of diverse families than it ever has been. Even more importantly, I know that if there is any "choice" involved in my situation at all, it is that I have chosen to guard very closely "that which makes me different." As a gay teacher, my partner, too, has made similar choices in his own classroom.
I want you, my reader, to understand that I am not on a soapbox here. This is not a politically-motivated blog, as I respect and celebrate your right to your own opinions. However, this is my blog. This is my reality. Therefore, today I am making an important decision. I have shared in the reality (or, in what I perceive to be the reality) of many strangers in their own blogging experiences, and I have been touched by that which they have shared - their personal stories, their pictures, their thoughts on life.
For my son and for my partner, I am choosing to share just a little more with you, the unknown. As you may have noticed, I have now included on this page a photograph of my family. I am proud of us. I am proud of where we have been and of where we are. And I am completely in awe of the possibilities of our future. In honor of my family, I wish to make one more blogging "promise"...Every time I have typed the word "partner" in reference to my spouse in my blog entries, I have cringed inside, as it sounds so plastic and impersonal. From now on, I will bestow upon him the honor which he deserves; he is nothing less than my husband.
From my family to yours, we wish you, the unknown reader, the very best in this holiday season. And I promise to not always write so "seriously" - it's draining! *grin*
Peace!
His2Dads
As I made the decision to write my first entry, I was attracted by the idea of sharing a part of my life with the unknown. This attraction was more intense because, in many ways, I have chosen to live a more-guarded life "in the real-world". Most people, I believe, are able to take some small pieces of their personal lives with them as they transition into their professional lives. For example, most people don't stop being married when they cross the thresholds of their places of business. When, in casual conversation, they are asked about their families, they can reply without thought. This is not always the case for me.
As a teacher, I am, and I quote, "held to a higher standard." And I am honored to uphold this standard, as I understand the trust placed in me by the public, and the vitality of the work I do to change the lives of my students.
However, it has been my experience that we are not upheld to the same standard. Just walk down the halls of any school. Located on the desks of many teachers, you will find similar artifacts: photos of families representing the people and the events that are significant to those teachers' lives. Brief remarks in reference to spouses made in passing can be heard occasionally in lessons, if only to connect with students - "My wife is having our baby soon, so there will be a guest teacher in the classroom for awhile" -or- "My husband and I went to Hawaii for our honeymoon; has anyone ever been to Hawaii?". Students are even aware of the personal symbols we wear as subtle announcements of our marital status.
My classroom is different. Oh, I have pictures on my desks, but none exclusively celebrate my commitment to my partner; he is there, but buried in a group family-photo. And I wear a ring every day, but I find myself making some side-stepping, humorous comment when questioned about my "wife" - "Mr. Journeyman, how long have you and your wife been married?" to which I reply, "I don't know, Sallie. How long have you and your husband been married?", followed by a small laugh and a very quick change of topic.
Don't get me wrong. I do not begrudge any of my straight friends for the freedoms they may take for granted. And I am very much aware that there are more and more gay teachers living and working openly, and that society seems more accepting of diverse families than it ever has been. Even more importantly, I know that if there is any "choice" involved in my situation at all, it is that I have chosen to guard very closely "that which makes me different." As a gay teacher, my partner, too, has made similar choices in his own classroom.
I want you, my reader, to understand that I am not on a soapbox here. This is not a politically-motivated blog, as I respect and celebrate your right to your own opinions. However, this is my blog. This is my reality. Therefore, today I am making an important decision. I have shared in the reality (or, in what I perceive to be the reality) of many strangers in their own blogging experiences, and I have been touched by that which they have shared - their personal stories, their pictures, their thoughts on life.
For my son and for my partner, I am choosing to share just a little more with you, the unknown. As you may have noticed, I have now included on this page a photograph of my family. I am proud of us. I am proud of where we have been and of where we are. And I am completely in awe of the possibilities of our future. In honor of my family, I wish to make one more blogging "promise"...Every time I have typed the word "partner" in reference to my spouse in my blog entries, I have cringed inside, as it sounds so plastic and impersonal. From now on, I will bestow upon him the honor which he deserves; he is nothing less than my husband.
From my family to yours, we wish you, the unknown reader, the very best in this holiday season. And I promise to not always write so "seriously" - it's draining! *grin*
Peace!
His2Dads
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
A perfect moment...
I have a confession to make. If you have stumbled upon this entry by pure happenstance, you may wish to avert your eyes, as the words I am about to type may indeed taint your impression of yours-truly. So here goes. I admit it. I am a Star Trek junkie.
There. I've said it. But I'm not just any Start Trek junkie...I'm much too picky. I started with the Next Generation; it was my "gateway" Start Trek. I dabbled in Deep Space Nine for awhile, but was able to kick the Trek addiction for awhile. But then it happened. And I just couldn't help it. Last summer, I secretly ordered the entire Voyager series from the internet (I'm not entirely sure about the legality of the transaction either, as the company was based over-seas and I only spent like $150 for the entire thing...maybe it's best not to think about that just now).
My partner wasn't entirely impressed with this purchase. But, as with many addicts, I knew if I could get him to watch just one episode, then he too would be hooked and I would not have to enjoy my Start Trek fixes alone. And boy was I right. Thank goodness for summer break - otherwise our lesson plans may have included activities such as "Klingon Lessons" and "A History of the Alpha Quadrant". But I digress just a little bit.
I am also a huge fan of the Next Generation-based motion pictures. In high school, I actually stood in line on a school night to see the midnight showing of Generations on opening night (and that was huge, 'cuz it was WAY passed my bedtime...ha ha ha). Anyway, I of course, own each of the movies, and have watched them multiple times. At this point, I do need to point out that I have never attended a Trekkie convention, nor do I decorate my home in StarFleet issue decor. But I do enjoy me some Star Trek!
So, during a particularly thrilling episode of Voyager this summer, my partner turned to me and said "See! That's why you should never jump to conclusions!"
Ok. Wait a minute. Did he just draw a life lesson from Star Trek? Did he really just go there? Well, the fact of the matter is that he did. And I laughed. And I might have called him a "nerd" or a "dork". I don't remember. But I love the goofball nonetheless, and I promise to only bring up his deep philosophical awakening during the most opportune of moments ;)
But he had a point. During one of the movies, Picard is sharing an intimate moment with a woman who can slow time, and she talks about living in a perfect moment. When I came home from work today, I sat on the couch with my son in my lap and my partner snuggled up beside us. It was a perfect moment. And I lived in it. And I thought of the Star Trek movie.
I am a nerd. I am a dork. And I wouldn't change my life for anything. As I look to the future, I can only quote the immortal Picard....."Engage!".
Eeek. Maybe that was too much. But you get the picture *grin*
There. I've said it. But I'm not just any Start Trek junkie...I'm much too picky. I started with the Next Generation; it was my "gateway" Start Trek. I dabbled in Deep Space Nine for awhile, but was able to kick the Trek addiction for awhile. But then it happened. And I just couldn't help it. Last summer, I secretly ordered the entire Voyager series from the internet (I'm not entirely sure about the legality of the transaction either, as the company was based over-seas and I only spent like $150 for the entire thing...maybe it's best not to think about that just now).
My partner wasn't entirely impressed with this purchase. But, as with many addicts, I knew if I could get him to watch just one episode, then he too would be hooked and I would not have to enjoy my Start Trek fixes alone. And boy was I right. Thank goodness for summer break - otherwise our lesson plans may have included activities such as "Klingon Lessons" and "A History of the Alpha Quadrant". But I digress just a little bit.
I am also a huge fan of the Next Generation-based motion pictures. In high school, I actually stood in line on a school night to see the midnight showing of Generations on opening night (and that was huge, 'cuz it was WAY passed my bedtime...ha ha ha). Anyway, I of course, own each of the movies, and have watched them multiple times. At this point, I do need to point out that I have never attended a Trekkie convention, nor do I decorate my home in StarFleet issue decor. But I do enjoy me some Star Trek!
So, during a particularly thrilling episode of Voyager this summer, my partner turned to me and said "See! That's why you should never jump to conclusions!"
Ok. Wait a minute. Did he just draw a life lesson from Star Trek? Did he really just go there? Well, the fact of the matter is that he did. And I laughed. And I might have called him a "nerd" or a "dork". I don't remember. But I love the goofball nonetheless, and I promise to only bring up his deep philosophical awakening during the most opportune of moments ;)
But he had a point. During one of the movies, Picard is sharing an intimate moment with a woman who can slow time, and she talks about living in a perfect moment. When I came home from work today, I sat on the couch with my son in my lap and my partner snuggled up beside us. It was a perfect moment. And I lived in it. And I thought of the Star Trek movie.
I am a nerd. I am a dork. And I wouldn't change my life for anything. As I look to the future, I can only quote the immortal Picard....."Engage!".
Eeek. Maybe that was too much. But you get the picture *grin*
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Can Anyone Recommend a Good Brick Wall?
Last night, I was forced to manage my first real "baby crisis", and because my partner is out of town until this afternoon, I had to make the decisions alone...is now the time to point out that I have a knack for being EXTREMELY indecisive when the time is right?
Well, was the time ever right last night!!! You see, our son was apparently bored, what with all of the play time, cooing, peek-a-boo, swinging, singing, toys, peeing, walking around the room in someone's arms, feeding, napping, pooping, and drooling (did I mention drooling?? Perhaps I should have said DROOLING!)...and apparently our son likes to switch things up, keeping things "real" so that Papa (that's me) doesn't forget the pressure he is under with this new promotion to parenthood...
The pressure last night came in the form of a new tooth suddenly (and quite rudely, I might add) forcing its way out of our son's gums. Ok, so last week, my Mom did say "Oh look, I think he is about ready to show us his first tooth". A more experienced dad may have been able to see that seemingly simple observation for what it really was, but apparently my daddy-decoder ring is still in the mail. Hopefully I have already established the fact that in no way do I meet the criteria for "experienced" parent. duh.
Missing the message "prepare yourself for the onslaught of the teething process", I naively and joyfully took great pride in my son's first soon-to-be-tooth-showing. More importantly, I did NOT do somethings: I did NOT make sure I had any sort of teether (or home teether remedy). I did NOT make sure I had any Baby Ambesol or the like on hand. I did NOT read up on the teething process. Nope. Not an ounce of preparation...Bring it on!
Darn you, Mom, and your silly hidden messages...I blame you!!! (my Mom, by the way , is the best...and I really don't have much to blame her for in my own upbringing, so this is a prime opportunity for me to feel "normal"...thanks, Mom!).
At around 8:45 p.m. last night, the tooth in question sent a message to my son...the message, gathered from secret intelligence, was something to the effect of "I'm here-eeer. Let the screaming commence!"
Me: "What's wrong, baby?!"
Baby: wail of the banshees, un-typeable using any known human language
Mom: "Just go get a teether from the fridge"
Me: blank stare
Mom: "Do you have any baby ambesol? I think this is a doo-sie; look, you can see the tooth, and right beside it are two more that will be here before we know it"
Me: looking for a brick wall against which to bang my head repeatedly
After a 9:00 run to Target, I returned home with at least 4 different types of baby teething ambesol/orajel and two different teethers. Who do these baby-product companies think they are, anyway? Don't they know that new parents such as myself often don't have a CLUE? So yes, I did it. I picked one of each from the shelf and headed straight for the checkout. Sue me.
I raced into the house, biting off the tip of the first tube I could grab while wondering "if I licked the teether myself first, would count for sterilization?". As I bounded up the stairs almost yelling, "I'm here, I'm here, Papa's here", I noticed something was wrong. It's quiet. Too quiet.
Mom, seeming to take great pleasure in the panic on my face, uttered the words. Those words.
"It's ok. He's asleep. I gave him a cold, wet washcloth to chew on, and he fell right to sleep."
It's almost 10:00 am the next day, and I am still looking for that brick wall. This one has clearly been used by a new parent...
His2Daddies
Well, was the time ever right last night!!! You see, our son was apparently bored, what with all of the play time, cooing, peek-a-boo, swinging, singing, toys, peeing, walking around the room in someone's arms, feeding, napping, pooping, and drooling (did I mention drooling?? Perhaps I should have said DROOLING!)...and apparently our son likes to switch things up, keeping things "real" so that Papa (that's me) doesn't forget the pressure he is under with this new promotion to parenthood...
The pressure last night came in the form of a new tooth suddenly (and quite rudely, I might add) forcing its way out of our son's gums. Ok, so last week, my Mom did say "Oh look, I think he is about ready to show us his first tooth". A more experienced dad may have been able to see that seemingly simple observation for what it really was, but apparently my daddy-decoder ring is still in the mail. Hopefully I have already established the fact that in no way do I meet the criteria for "experienced" parent. duh.
Missing the message "prepare yourself for the onslaught of the teething process", I naively and joyfully took great pride in my son's first soon-to-be-tooth-showing. More importantly, I did NOT do somethings: I did NOT make sure I had any sort of teether (or home teether remedy). I did NOT make sure I had any Baby Ambesol or the like on hand. I did NOT read up on the teething process. Nope. Not an ounce of preparation...Bring it on!
Darn you, Mom, and your silly hidden messages...I blame you!!! (my Mom, by the way , is the best...and I really don't have much to blame her for in my own upbringing, so this is a prime opportunity for me to feel "normal"...thanks, Mom!).
At around 8:45 p.m. last night, the tooth in question sent a message to my son...the message, gathered from secret intelligence, was something to the effect of "I'm here-eeer. Let the screaming commence!"
Me: "What's wrong, baby?!"
Baby: wail of the banshees, un-typeable using any known human language
Mom: "Just go get a teether from the fridge"
Me: blank stare
Mom: "Do you have any baby ambesol? I think this is a doo-sie; look, you can see the tooth, and right beside it are two more that will be here before we know it"
Me: looking for a brick wall against which to bang my head repeatedly
After a 9:00 run to Target, I returned home with at least 4 different types of baby teething ambesol/orajel and two different teethers. Who do these baby-product companies think they are, anyway? Don't they know that new parents such as myself often don't have a CLUE? So yes, I did it. I picked one of each from the shelf and headed straight for the checkout. Sue me.
I raced into the house, biting off the tip of the first tube I could grab while wondering "if I licked the teether myself first, would count for sterilization?". As I bounded up the stairs almost yelling, "I'm here, I'm here, Papa's here", I noticed something was wrong. It's quiet. Too quiet.
Mom, seeming to take great pleasure in the panic on my face, uttered the words. Those words.
"It's ok. He's asleep. I gave him a cold, wet washcloth to chew on, and he fell right to sleep."
It's almost 10:00 am the next day, and I am still looking for that brick wall. This one has clearly been used by a new parent...
His2Daddies
Monday, December 3, 2007
Links to Fame and other Comments on Society
I can officially say that I have a link to fame. Sort of. My partner is the direct link, but, if I can't claim full marriage rights, then I sure as h-e-double-hockey-sticks am gonna claim partnered links to fame (unless, of course, someone wants to try and legislate this right as well!...ANYWAY....ha ha).
My partner was at a conference with his principal about 6 months ago, where he had the opportunity to eat lunch with Erin Gruwell. Yes. THE Erin Gruwell. As her peeps, we call her "Ms. G-to-the-Ruwell", but you should probably call her Ms. Gruwell, or better yet, just speak to her through one of us as to avoid all direct communication and possible wastes of her time.
Ok, ok, so I didn't know who she was either. But, being the resourceful guy I am, I did what anybody in my position would do - I Googled her (what did we do before Google? Seriously!). I'll wait here while you do the same (come on, you can't expect me to do EVERYTHING for you, can you??? ha ha). Just in case you are running late for your hot date/job interview/reality tv show marathon, I'll save you the effort...
Erin Gruwell is the teacher portrayed in the movie "The Freedom Writers", based upon Gruwell's book "The Freedom Writers' Diary". If you haven't seen it yet, I highly recommend it - it is one of those movies with an invaluable message and a brutal truth. Oh, and Hillary Swank played Erin. So now maybe you can see why I am famous.
The really cool thing is that she insisted (and was relentless, I might add) that my partner participate in her Teachers' Institute....Even though the timing was not the greatest, he is there now and, from the couple of brief phone conversations we have had, he seems to be having a great time...Cali for a week instead of work....hhhhmmm...rough, huh? Needless to say, I am very proud of my partner, but I can't wait to have him home tomorrow...especially because our son had his first tooth break through yesterday, and life is pretty chaotic. That and I just miss the goofball *grin*.
Anyway, and all kidding aside, I like to think that my "high horse" bucked me off a long time ago. While I really like Hillary Swank, I think I would rather have a connection to someone like Erin Gruwell. I would encourage you to watch the movie, but I would challenge you to read the book.
Soooo, back to reality for me - while my partner is away hob-nobbing with the famous, I should get back to my own "G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S" life (thanks, Fergie!...helping the masses to become better spellers, one song at a time) - you know, laundry, food, dishes, pet care...oh yeah, and parenthood!
His2Dads
My partner was at a conference with his principal about 6 months ago, where he had the opportunity to eat lunch with Erin Gruwell. Yes. THE Erin Gruwell. As her peeps, we call her "Ms. G-to-the-Ruwell", but you should probably call her Ms. Gruwell, or better yet, just speak to her through one of us as to avoid all direct communication and possible wastes of her time.
Ok, ok, so I didn't know who she was either. But, being the resourceful guy I am, I did what anybody in my position would do - I Googled her (what did we do before Google? Seriously!). I'll wait here while you do the same (come on, you can't expect me to do EVERYTHING for you, can you??? ha ha). Just in case you are running late for your hot date/job interview/reality tv show marathon, I'll save you the effort...
Erin Gruwell is the teacher portrayed in the movie "The Freedom Writers", based upon Gruwell's book "The Freedom Writers' Diary". If you haven't seen it yet, I highly recommend it - it is one of those movies with an invaluable message and a brutal truth. Oh, and Hillary Swank played Erin. So now maybe you can see why I am famous.
The really cool thing is that she insisted (and was relentless, I might add) that my partner participate in her Teachers' Institute....Even though the timing was not the greatest, he is there now and, from the couple of brief phone conversations we have had, he seems to be having a great time...Cali for a week instead of work....hhhhmmm...rough, huh? Needless to say, I am very proud of my partner, but I can't wait to have him home tomorrow...especially because our son had his first tooth break through yesterday, and life is pretty chaotic. That and I just miss the goofball *grin*.
Anyway, and all kidding aside, I like to think that my "high horse" bucked me off a long time ago. While I really like Hillary Swank, I think I would rather have a connection to someone like Erin Gruwell. I would encourage you to watch the movie, but I would challenge you to read the book.
Soooo, back to reality for me - while my partner is away hob-nobbing with the famous, I should get back to my own "G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S" life (thanks, Fergie!...helping the masses to become better spellers, one song at a time) - you know, laundry, food, dishes, pet care...oh yeah, and parenthood!
His2Dads
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