This is a step-parenting horror story that became one of our family’s favorite anecdotes. I remember it as our Thanksgiving Meals-on-Wheels. My boyfriend/future husband and I had been dating for over a year and had spent much of that time doing group things with some combination of our children…his 5 and my 2. This “memorable” Thanksgiving was the first holiday in which we both had our kids with us, all 7 of them in an age range from 7 to 17. We were thrilled to spend it together as a blended family and didn’t foresee the problems ahead.
Raising my wonderful, loving, and successful gay son David has been a fantastic, fun journey. He has given me so many gifts; I could write forever about them. Most outstanding has been the opportunity to participate in his community. Let me tell you…it’s one thing to hang out with gay friends and family in our straight society where they are conforming to our standards, but it’s a complete different experience to be immersed in their world of gender-busting bravery and hilarity. It’s been better than a backstage pass on Broadway, more like a secret passage through the looking glass. I’ve been entertained by the most talented people, been comped at the hippest clubs, danced with hundreds of buff and shirtless men, had drinks with the most glamorous drag queens, vamped in costume on several floats in the annual Provincetown Carnival parade, even reveled at a Susanne Bartsch party. I’ve shared breakfast, dinner, living quarters, jokes, stories, and tears with them. They accepted me and treated me like a star (or goddess!) I’ve loved every minute of it. But, as a mom, the journey has not been without worry.