Now we are six

My daughter is now six, and a lot has happened since my last post. But some things have not changed. She remains a curious, creative, mischievous character, who forever keeps me on my toes. Being Mama to such an individual is a joy, and at times, a pain!

She is in Year One at school now, and let me tell you, there is no certainty like a child who has discovered something at school. Here is a conversation we had this week:

G: Is baby Jesus dead?
Me: Well, some people think so. Some people think he died and then came back to life.
G: and some people think that baby Jesus was eaten by someone.
Me:...um, no. No they don't.
G: Yes they do. Someone ate him.
Me: [Ponders a discussion on transubstantiation].

Six is an interesting age. There is a solemness to it, a sense of awareness that hasn't been present before. Year One represents a big transition for G, and she has lamented the fact that she gets to play now far less than she did in Reception. There is a sadness about that for her, and I feel it too. She is generally a cheerful soul though, and also points out that at least there isn't as much arguing over dolls.

She is of course starting to make sense of her life and her family. They were discussing their lives, homes and families at schools a few weeks ago, which is why I suspect we ended up having the following conversation:

G: But Mummy is my proper Mummy though, isn't she?

Me: Why?

G: Because I came out of her tummy.

And she did come out of her Mummy's tummy. But, as I then explained to her from the driving seat of the car (why do these conversations always happen on the motorway?), I helped make sure she was in Mummy's tummy. It was mine and Mummy's decision to have a baby, and we were the people who got the 'help' we needed to make a baby. We made her together, and I am just as much her mummy as Mummy is. She didn't say very much and then promptly fell asleep for the rest of the journey. 

I can't deny that I shed a tear or two after that conversation. But I also have to acknowledge that this is almost certainly the result of a conversation that she had in the playground with another child, a child who was curious about a different family set-up to their own. G and I have a unique and close relationship, which I am proud and protective of. That she can have these conversations with me, however painful, is a good thing. Her honesty and her curiosity will stand her in good stead as she grows and experiences life.

A post about a car advert. Seriously.

Today, a car advert made me cry.

Yes, really.

Have you seen it? The advert for the Vauxhall Grandland X. I know next to nothing about cars, and it certainly wasn't through any desire for the enormous vehicle depicted in the driving sequence. I cried because, it was the first time I can ever recall, that a female couple were depicted doing what we did five years ago - going to the hospital to have a baby. The tears were of unexpected recognition, of for once seeing someone like me, like us, depicted in that bastion of tradition - advertising. For so long, we have been absent from mainstream marketing, but recently we have started seeing representation creeping in. And that is priceless.

But why does it matter? We have equality now, right? Perhaps. In places. But beyond legislation, which has come a long way in a relatively short space of time (in the UK), visibility continues to be a challenge. Someone once said 'you can't be what you can't see'. That's not strictly true, but I am testament to the fact that it is really really hard to be what you can't see. And as I type this I think of the teenage me who started watching a particular soap opera in the mid 90s just because there was a rumour of a lesbian character. I watched hours and hours of terrible melodrama for that 30 second clip of her smiling at another woman, and occasionally touching her hand. That was all I had. I didn't understand that I was gay. I had no role models. There was no one I could compare myself to. Was I gay enough? Was I too gay? All the questions that youngsters ask themselves. I didn't know where to go, who to talk to. So I turned to the television, to those glimpses of beige, sexless lesbianism, or worse, overly eroticised sapphic action created for men. I was neither beige, nor a porn star. Where next? I found my solace at the local library, in literature, which is a far broader church.

Nearly 25 years on things have changed so much, and happily gay folk are represented much more regularly, more accurately and diversely across a range of media. But there was something about this advert. It was an advert for a car, of all things. The people in it were human, and the story they were telling was universal. They just happened to be like us. And in one moment I shed real tears, both of joy, and of grief for the difference that would have made to me when I was 16. Just two women, loving each other, being together and having a baby. Simple. Powerful. 

As an aside, neither me nor my wife were as calm or collected as the women in the advert when she went into labour. And we were in a little old car that I managed to crash when she was transferred from the birth centre to hospital by ambulance, but that's another story!

Writing and parenting - it's been a while but I have a new book coming out!

It's tough doing almost anything but parenting when you have a little one isn't it?! My daughter turned four earlier this month, which is pretty incredible. Today she started pre-school!

Parenting is, for the most part, lots of fun. However, it is also all-consuming, hard work and not for those who value personal time. That is why my second novel, Her Shadow, has taken so long to write. However, this Autumn it will be published on Amazon, and I am really proud of it.

Here's the back page blurb:

Cameron Strawbank's job as a high society fundraiser finds her wining and dining the great and the good. Following a five figure donation, her professional and personal life collide with dramatic consequences when she finds herself in bed with a prominent politician. Sara Lorenzo is a well known shadow cabinet minister, and what begins as a fling, becomes a relationship that surprises both women. Before long, the tabloid press discover their affair, and its apparent link to cash, and lurid headlines follow, forcing the couple apart. Sara prioritises safeguarding her career and Cameron is left with her working and personal life in tatters, and flees the country with an old flame.

Cameron's desire to find out how Sara really feels about her, brings her back to the UK, despite the guilt she carries. Is there any chance of a future together? She attempts to rebuild a career, and forge a new connection with Sara when tragedy hits in the form of a suspected terrorist attack in central London.

This is a story of love, loss, friendship, adventure, politics and forgiveness that will keep you guessing to the very end.

You can find out more at my author website, and also by joining my mailing list. I'm going to host a launch event in a few weeks time, so sign up if you want first dibs on tickets!

Who's the daddy?

Who's the daddy? Well, as far as my daughter is concerned, pretty much any adult male who makes conversation with us...

I remember when we first started trying for a baby I wondered whether our child would resent growing up without a father. We reassured ourselves with the fact that our baby would have two loving parents.

My daughter is now two and a half, and has been going to nursery for about a year. As a result she has come to medt many other children with different kinds of families and backgrounds, which is great. Lots of the children are picked up by 'dad' and I think this was her first exposure to being a little different to others. She has responded with curiosity. When my sister, brother-in-law and niece and neohew came to stay, she called her uncle 'dad' just as his son did. I actually found it really sweet, although I can't speak for 'uncle dad' as he became that weekend. Today we were being welcomed into an apartment we are renting for the weekend by the owner, who was with his young son. Within five minutes my little girl grabbed his hand and called him 'dad' much to his surprise.

Her name for me is 'mama bear' - a nickname my mum dubbed me with when she was born which has stuck. Interestingly, while she was busy appropriating other children's dads, at least three other children - including my nephew - call me mama bear too from time to time.

My little girl has the good fortune of having three grandfathers, each of whom she has a good and very different relationship. So she'll never want for 'male role models'. I long ago realised that it was the quality of the relationship you have with a child, not who you are, what your gender is and whether you have a biological connection with them.

I picked her up from nursery yesterday to discover all the children had done special drawings for their dads to mark Father's Day this Sunday. The nursery nurse was rather timid when she explained that the picture my girl had done was dedicated to me, and was that ok? I was so very touched. So it would seem that, for now, being mama bear is good enough. And chaps - if a small blonde toddler sidles up to you and calls you 'dad' within minutes of meeting you, take it as a compliment.

New book for publication Spring 2017: a quiet hand in yours

I'm really excited to be able to report that I have contributed to a new book that will be published in Spring 2017.

Pinter and Martin are publishing Pride and Joy: A Guide for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Parents, by Sarah Eve Hagger-Holt and Dr Rachel Rose Hagger-Holt next year, and part of this blog, Mama Not Mummy, has been included.

As a former journalist, writing non-fiction often comes more naturally to me than fiction, so it is heartening to know I've still got 'it'. The blog originally came from a place of becoming a parent for the first time, and becoming a parent in a somewhat unconventional manner. I struggled to find any real writing about the situation I found myself in, so the blog came about as a way to express my feelings. I was surprised to find it gathered a following of others in a similar situation, once again reminding me of the power of reading and writing as affirmation. There's a line in the play The History Boys by Alan Bennett about this, about the power of literature to reach out and touch you:

Hector - The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - that you'd thought special, particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you've never met, maybe even someone long dead. And it's as if a hand has come out, and taken yours.

I'm thrilled to be included in this new book, and really hope that this will help others feel a quiet hand in theirs.

Note in the image above, I am demonstrating pride and joy. Or something...

My daughter's first gay pride

I've been on Pride marches before, and felt the heady glow of walking with people 'like me', full of courage, bravado and, yes, pride. But on Saturday I experienced this anew. I walked with my daughter.  Granted, she slept for most of it, but walking through the streets of my city with friends and thousands of others, with an estimated 75,000 looking on, it was very different. 

Maybe it was because it was the first march I've done in the era of social media, where it seemed that 75,000 smart phones were trained on us, as though the streets were some kind of red carpet. I think mistly though it was because the pride I was feeling was about my daughter - I wanted everyone to know that this was my little girl, and not only was I proud to be gay, but I was proud to be her mother. To be both of those things publicly still feels a little radical, and on Saturday it felt wonderful. 

My lovely girl enjoyed the bits of the parade she was awake for, waving at everyone, especially the drag queens and half naked men. 

Hurrah for Pride! 

20 months later...

Our lovely girl is now 20 months old, and we have been through all sorts of remarkable developments in recent times:

Moving from a cot to a bed - and consequently re-doing sleep training :/

Moving from a high chair to a tiny chair - because she kept climbing out and walking off

Counting from one to ten - not necessarily the right order

Learning colours - but sometimes insisting everything is lellow

Saying no to everything

Hurling herself on the floor and screaming - while I tiptoe away to make a cup of tea

Demanding toast for tea and then looking affronted when we suggest she actually sits down and eats it...

Yes, it's true. We now have a toddler. And I love it!

Having a baby is lovely, but a toddler is so much more fun, if messier (yes, that is possible).