OK, I was a little surprised, too, to see that Salt Lake City is the gay parenting capitol.

There was shock and awe last week around the world, when it was revealed that Salt Lake City is the gayest city in the U.S. when it comes to being a gay parent. Yes, I was a little surprised, too. But then I thought about it for 2 minutes.

Everyone thinks of Salt Lake City as Mormon. And that is when they are actually thinking about Salt Lake City, which is probably not very often. And it is. Kind of. Approximately 50.27% of people who live there are Mormon. So half. And more importantly, Utah is the kid capital of the country. For real. There are more people having babies, taking care of babies and screaming up the stairs than any other state in the entire union. And it’s true. It’s not just the facts.

Have you been to Utah? This is the most kid-friendly place on earth, so I don’t blame the gays for making this our gay parenting capitol. These people invented bulk candy and Saturday matinees that cost $1. Everything to do with kids is super cheap. And everything has a drive through, so you don’t have to get out of the car to try to squeeze 5 children into one grocery basket.

People in Utah are so busy taking care of their kids that they are probably not even going to notice that the people down the street are lesbians. They probably just look like sister wives, whose husband never comes home.

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If I had waited just a little bit longer, I could have crowdsourced my baby.

My daughter was born in 2009. And Kickstarter was born the same year. Coincidence? I think not. I think they were trying to jack me on this whole thing, because if they have started Kickstarter just a little bit earlier, I could have raised some serious coin for this adventure.

Kiskstarter is a site that let’s anyone raise money for their own creative projects. According to the web site more than 4.1 million people have pledged over $631 million, funding more than 42,000 creative projects. And given that IVF treatment costs about half of that amount or maybe a little bit less, I definitely would have launched a Kickstarter project for this whole deal. You would have kicked in $25 to get this return of investment, wouldn’t you?

Wynn video

(See the video!)

Ask yourself, is there anyone out there who wouldn’t have wanted me to reproduce? Is there anyone who would have tried to prevent this kind of awesomeness from happening? Let’s be honest, yes there is. But we did it anyway. And it would have been great to crowdsource the whole thing. And maybe we would have let you pick the sperm donor, too. But THAT might have been going a little too far.

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Send a love note today, because it bounces off them and sticks to you, glue.

Last Friday was International Day to End Homophobia. Although you might not have heard of it, it is rising in popularity, unlike Continue Homophobia Day, which is every day on Fox News. But let’s stay focused on the positive, people.

So last Friday, I got busy and tried to end homophobia, all in one day. I sent an e-mail, which is definitely the best way to motivate the people I work with. I do absolutely everything that someone tells me when it shows up in my inbox, especially if it involves a discount on sperm. Anyhow, I sent an e-mail to about 50 people I work with telling them “thank you” for not being homophobic. Someone had to do it. It went like this.

work email

And because I work with a hugely loving group of people, a number of them wrote back to say “you are an idiot, of course, you are just like everyone else.” I’m paraphrasing a little here. But I think they are right. I am a corporate drone, doing whatever my e-mail tells me to do, all day in a gray cube, just like everyone else. And I should stop trying to be so special with all this gayness. Just go back to work!

Oh, and just to be fair, some people said this:

email responses

So there you have it! Being gay is cool! But the real lesson here, I think, is that love notes are the best! So go and thank someone today for not being a dick. Because people who are not dick-ish deserve recognition, too, and they are more likely to write back in a totally awesome way. Hate spreads. But so does love. Get busy!

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We have new flag. I know, I just found out, too.

Our country, the gay one, got a new flag. And frankly, I am a little irritated because nobody told me. But just to avoid having you get irritated too by keeping you in suspense, here it is.

new gay flag

We’re going to Alaska. That’s right, people! The little stars are a sign that we’re going to all be relocated to a state where no one cares who you are or what you’re up to and where the stars shine really bright most of the year, because it’s so frigging dark up there.

As you will note, this flag was designed by Eric Welsh. I think this is him.

eric welsh

At least I hope this is him. Because if we are going to Alaska, I want to go with this guy. He can kill food for us, and he is totally not a hater. Although it seems more like he would have designed our new flag to be camouflage.

Hang on.

Ok. Oops. We are not going to Alaska. The stars on the flag represent the 12 states that have passed gay marriage laws. This, according to Wikipedia. Good job, Eric. I appreciate you taking the time, in between hunting trips, to create this new flag for us. And I hope you saved some white thread so we can keep adding stars to it. In fact, I hope you run out of thread!

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We’re all family, even that lady with seven cats. (Oh and win a t-shirt by voting for the design)

My people. It’s time to pick designs, again. This time for a t-shirt. Yes! Calm down! We’re making t-shirts, and we’re going to beg you to buy one when the time is right, which will be right after we decide which one is perfect.

They are all subtly different like the two pictures of a celebrity in the back of US magazine that look identical, and then when you look closely you realize that the tag on Taylor Swift’s shirt is totally a different color in each photo. And her dog is totally not wearing a color in one of the photos. Anyway, you get my point, which is that you must say “totally” in every sentence for emphasis.

So there are your choices below. AND I am happy to hear, but will likely ignore, your overall opinion of this shirts, because they are already totally, fucking awesome! Thank you Kris Scott. And I am in no way mean to be homophobic at all but my favorite couple is the straight one, because they have a little slutty mutt, which is SO CUTE! (Dog people unite!)

And my favorite shirt is the rainbow one. So there. Go ahead and vote, but please, really don’t be influenced by anything I have already said. It’s your voice. Your vote counts. Sort of. Unless you’re out-voted by me or other people who are cooler than you. And one more thing, everyone who votes will be entered into a church raffle to win one of the t-shirts. I know, bitchin! Which church? LDS. (Lesbian Dominion Sanctuary). Vote!

1. Pencil line family


2. Black families (Not really black, you know what I mean. There is a black line! But hey they can be black. It’s all good. Use your imagination. They can all be Etoro if you want.)

plain family

3. Primary colors family

primary colors

4. Rainbow family

rainbow family

Vote! In comments. Right there. Scroll down. Do it!

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When faced with the problem of what to call someone, ask a two-year old. They always have the answer.

When our first child was born, we needed to pick two names. Actually, three. A first name and a middle name for the baby. And a new name for one parent. Or at least a new label. One of us was going to get Mom. And the other person was going to be???

We had no idea.

My first thought was maybe the baby would never learn to talk, so we wouldn’t have to deal with this issue. And then I remembered that she was related to me.

We had some friends that were Papa and Daddy. Good enough. Both respectable and easy enough to distinguish when pronounced by a toddler with a mouth full of graham crackers. We could go Mom and Mama — the Spanish version. Or Mom and Mum — the Canadian version, but those were all so much alike.

So we settled on Mom and Mum while I was pregnant. Pam would get Mom, in part because she was the adoptive parent, and I would get Mum — the Canadian moniker. But by the time our daughter, Wynn, was born we forgot about the whole thing because we were so busy feeding, swaddling and changing her diapers that I didn’t care what we called each other just as long as it wasn’t “fucking bitch.”

And then one day our daughter started talking. She spent all of her weekdays with Grandma, so she was getting lots of opportunities to learn English, a little bit of Spanish, and her vocabulary grew quickly. She also got in the habit (and still is) of patiently explaining to us what various words mean. Last night, she pointed to a piece of her toy kitchen and explained to me with authority and hand gestures that one of the pots was a scapulayla,and it was used for cooking.

So it should come as no surprise that eventually Wynn named me. Pam became Mommy. And I became Mima – the inverse pronunciation of the same word. Problem solved.

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One mom + another mom = Not much for Mother’s Day

I need a plan for Mother’s Day. I know what you’re thinking. It’s a little late. And it’s true. It’s a little late for this year. But c’mon people, when I plan ahead, I really plan ahead. What are you doing for Christmas 2015? What? You don’t know!

Actually, this is just my clever and defensive way of not dealing with the fact that I think I missed an opportunity here. Having two moms in our house caused this event to cancel itself out, sort of like Quaaludes and cocaine. Oooops, sorry, my 80s was showing. But Mother’s Day at our house was an oxymoron, when it should have been twice as much fun.

But if we want to get really truthy, I find Mother’s Day mildly irritating, partly because it comes on the heals of tons of other family holidays, and I’m actually sick of cake, which seems entirely implausible. But mostly I have ignored Mother’s Day because it’s sort of trapped in it’s gender identity. Mother’s Day has to be all nice and flowery and unobtrusive. It was so understated this year that I completely forgot about it until about three days before. C’mon Mother’s Day Lean In! You need to stand up with your protest sign, your loud voice and get your Hillary-Betty-Gloria on.

So what did we do? Not much. We went to grandma’s house, ate chili and beans and ran around in the sprinkler naked. I skipped the last part, in case you’re wondering. As did grandma. I looked up Mother’s Day on Wikipedia to see if there was any truth to the story that the day was started as a day of protest by mothers who didn’t want their sons to die in wars. It’s not. It’s a holiday “honoring mothers, and motherhood, maternal bonds, and the influence of mothers in society.”

You would think that would be good enough for me. And it is. I was honored in a nice, flowery and unobtrusive way, by just treating it like any other day that it was great to be alive and have a family in my own home at peace.


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