Katie Couric's show

I wanted to link to this page from Katie Couric's episode about raising transgender children. I think it helps to answer some questions that I'm sure many of you have. I found it fascinating and helpful.

http://www.katiecouric.com/on-the-show/2013/02/26/trapped-in-the-wrong-body-growing-up-transgender-2/

(I would like to add that I have do not mean to give labels to Eli and his uniqueness. It may be years before we understand how he identifies, but we do know that from what we have seen so far, we definitely have an interesting journey ahead. Eli, with his sweet and magnetic personality, makes it so easy to love him and Adam and I are proud to take this journey with him.)

Why should I blog about Eli?

I have been asked why I blog about Eli's uniqueness and it has even been suggested that Adam and I deal with this as a private family matter rather than "brag" about it or "parade him around".

My reasons for writing about Eli are simple. Aside from a love for writing, Eli's my son and I'm damn proud of him. He's not a dirty family secret that I want to hide. He deserves better than that and quite frankly, so do I.

Secondly, I have heard so many words of encouragement and I hate to admit it but I need to hear them. Even though I'm confident in my parenting choices, there are some trying and challenging days and it's so helpful for me to be cheered on and supported.

Most importantly, sharing Eli's story sparks conversation with people who read my blog. They talk to their children about it. They help make his school a loving and supportive place for him. Because of my blog, people are talking about gender issues with their kids and having inner monologues with themselves. And not just about gender issues but about accepting anyone else who may look different from them. I know it is something that I sometimes struggle with too and Eli is teaching me to look beyond what someone looks like or what someone  is wearing and instead see them for the special person they are on the inside. 

Do I expect everyone to agree with Eli's lifestyle or with our choices to raise him in a home where he is embraced and accepted for who he is? No, I don't. Sadly, I've heard enough to know that this isn't the case and truthfully, I never expected it to be. Luckily, we haven't heard too many messages of disapproval. But I've heard enough to bring me to my knees in tears so I have to be careful to keep my energy focused on the right things and on staying the course with my baby boy.

I've been asked the question, "Do you think you are hurting him for making this public?"...well first, my blog isn't exactly wide read, so I'm not worried about a national outcry. Second, um...people that we know can *see* Eli so I'm not sure they are reading anything on my blog that surprises them after they've met Eli. And third, if they haven't met Eli yet, when they do, many of their questions will have already been answered.

Believe me, this very blog has saved me from many awkward conversations at class birthday parties. It has also served as a tool to communicate with parents of Eli's classmates and has given parents a chance to prepare their kids for Eli's uniqueness. Eli's school is a warm, safe and accepting place and I think that has a bit to do with my candor and willingness to talk openly.

Simply said, the good that this blog does for my family and my community far outweighs the bad.

Eli is amazing. He inspires me. And I think he is starting to inspire other people too. I'm not ashamed of him and won't allow someone to make me think I should be. As long as Eli has a lesson to teach the world, I'm going to share it with as many people as I can. Proudly and unapologetically.

A quick update...

After talking with Eli's school counselor (and with Eli), it seems that my little red head may have embellished the story of the kids making fun of him. When he wore his hair to school, no one made fun of him...which is such a huge relief. I know a few of the kids asked questions (which we encourage) but there wasn't any teasing. After talking with his counselor, I think that he used his story as a way to express his anxiety over the new steps he is taking with his school wardrobe choices (and I'm sure it garnered the sympathetic response he felt he needed). While lying is never okay, I do understand that he is still so little and has trouble articulating his emotions in the right way so I don't want to ignore the message that he was trying to get across (even if he went about it in the wrong way).

Sigh....this little guy always keeps me on my toes.

So in addition to covering gender issues with him, we will also be covering "Why we do not lie". And instead of reading the story about the onion, tonight we are reading a book called, "Eli's Lie-o-meter".

Thanks so much for the show of support I have received while going on this journey. I have been pushed forward by your kind words!

Be the onion

Someone close to us, put these articles in front of Adam and I today:

 http://www.cnn.com/2011/09/27/health/transgender-kids/index.html

http://www.cnn.com/2013/02/27/us/colorado-transgender-girl-school/index.html?hpt=hp_c1

They came at the perfect time for me (isn’t that always the way it works?). I've needed the reminder that this isn't a journey we are taking alone. Things are becoming more complicated as Eli is becoming more aware of his differences from other kids. His preferences for identifying as a girl everywhere but school are starting to weigh on him I think. Mothering him has been so easy. Until very recently, where I’ve seen him struggling and becoming anxious and now there is nothing easy about it. He wants to be a girl at school but understands that being himself comes with a hefty price tag. He tiptoed into it by asking his teacher if he could “wear his hair” (his signature braided headband with hair flowing down on both sides…wearing this is when he feels the most comfortable, so much so, that I bought two cases from the Dollar Store). She gave him permission to wear his hair (I love that woman something fierce) so on Monday morning, his face lit up when he remembered he could wear his hair to school. Sadly, his face had fallen when he got into the car after school and told me some boys in his class made fun of him. The sadness and anger this incites in me is without measure, tempered only by the long laundry list of names of kids and teachers who told Eli how much they loved his hair.

Despite the support he received at school and at home about his fabulous hair, he chose not to wear it the next day. He had been making references to the day when he would wear dresses to school but has since told me he would “just keep being a boy at school”. He has had tummy aches at school and the light has left his eyes ever so slightly. Thinking of Eli’s happy spirit being subdued crushes my soul.

We read a story the other night about an onion that didn’t want to be an onioin anymore, so he decided to be an orange by wearing a discarded orange peel. Being an orange was physically painful for the onion. The peel squeezed him too tight and was scratchy on his smooth skin and being encased made the onion feel hot and stuck. I think this must be how Eli feels in boys’ clothes. Physically uncomfortable. I hate that for him. And even more, I hate that the three small voices of disapproval echoed louder than the many kind voices of love and support.

My challenge now is to get Eli to listen to the right voices. To be who he really is, not who other people think he should be. And to be comfortable with doing that. I feel completely confident at home, teaching him the freedom of expressing himself, but when taking on the world, now that he is noticing the reactions of others, I feel utterly inept.

There was a bright spot in the days that seemed shadowed and came in the form of  a glimpse of hope that perhaps I am not screwing all of this up after all. It came from Ethan, my sweet, reserved boy whose thinking is quiet and deep. I gave Eli some new clothes to try on, including a sundress for the warm weather days ahead. Eli put it on and immediately was transformed back to the happy, sparkling spirit of himself. As he gleefully twirled around the kitchen, Ethan came over to see what the fuss was about. He saw Eli and exclaimed, “Wow! Eli! You look SO pretty!”  Eli beamed. And then Ethan came over to me and said, “Mommy, I mean it. I’m not just saying that to be nice. I think Eli looks beautiful. He really does!”

At the end of the story we read the other night, the onion realizes how much he likes being an onion. He learns to love how his skin looks and sees it as beautiful and shiny. He understands that it is better to be who he is rather than try to be something he isn’t. I hope that Eli can realize how to be like the onion at the beginning of his story, rather than wait until the end. I hope I can help him figure out how.

Be the onion, Eli. Be the onion.

My kids are growing and changing everyday. It seems they change their mind about something new each time I blink. Some nights Ethan wants to sleep with the lights on. Some nights he prefers a blanket of complete darkness. Some days, he loves mustard. Other days, he loathes it. He's a constantly moving target.

The same goes for Eli. Eli is evolving every day. First, it started with the color pink. He wanted pink cupcakes for his third birthday. Then he asked for a doll. Then a little wig from the dollar store. Then pink pajamas from the girls' section of Target.

I have been happy to buy him pink cupcakes. And little wigs. And dolls and girls' pajamas. We have many, many talks about his preference for "girls'" things and about how when he is out in his wigs and pink sneakers that we should ignore the curious glances of strangers. Now, he will confidently announce "I am a boy who likes girl things." He knows that there are plenty of people in his life who love him for exactly who he is.

So, I thought I was doing a bang up job as a liberal, supportive mama.

Until a couple of months ago...

I picked Eli up from school and he asked to go to bed and take a nap (alarming and odd). When I brought him upstairs, he insisted on changing into his purple kitty pajamas. He crawled under the covers and lay there for about thirty seconds and announced his nap was over but he would just stay in his pajamas.

Sensing something was amiss, I pressed him and prodded him and he finally helped me understand that he only wanted an excuse to put his "girl" pajamas on. My heart broke knowing he was having an inner struggle that I was completely oblivious to. I asked him how it felt to dress as a boy every day and he said "It's hard sometimes."

I asked him how he would feel if he had some girl clothes to wear when he got home from school and his face lit up.  "Really!? We can do that!? Can we go to Target right now!?".

I watched him dash around the girls' section of Target, grabbing things off the shelves, yanking frilly dresses off the hangers, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the sparkles and sequins and pinks and purples. I realized how contained he had been and realized that though I felt like I had been giving him room to be him, that he had needed so much more. I was sad for denying him that freedom for so long.

Since that day, every afternoon he changes into skirts, dresses or purple or pink tights.  On the weekends, he wears those things too. My husband and I have asked him if he would like to wear his girls' clothes to school, but he has simply said "I think people would have a hard time with it". Maybe. I won't push him to make that transition, but I will support him by exploring the ever-evolving possibilities that exist for his future.

Just like raising any child, raising Eli with his wonderful uniqueness is a constantly changing landscape and requires constant communication and a constant eye on the horizon because new situations are always arising. Just recently, we arranged to have family photos taken. I asked him if he wanted to dress as a boy or a girl and showed him what everyone else in our family was wearing (I was in a simple button down shirt, sweater and jeans) and he chose to "be a boy" (as he put it). He was comfortable and happy during the session and that's all I ever want for him. To be comfortable and happy. He may not always know how to do that, but I won't stop helping him figure it out. Ever.

People may wonder why my husband and I allow Eli to be this way, that we may be opening him to ridicule and bullying. Those are valid concerns. I worry about those things every minute of every day. I don't want that for Eli (what mother does?). But what I REALLY don't want is for him to feel like he is a deep, dark family secret. Our family philosophy is that you don't have to hide who you are or be ashamed of yourself if you do things a little different. Our home should be and will be a safe haven for both of my children.

But it's more than being himself and dressing as a girl at home...he likes to wear those clothes when go out, too. And that's just fine with us. What sort of message would I send if I placed physical boundaries on when and where my children can be themselves? I know the answer. A message of rejection. A message that screams, "You are good enough for me when we are hidden behind the walls of our home, but you are not good enough for the rest of the world to see." And I will be damned if either of my children EVER hear that message from me.

Will Eli face bullies and hear ridicule? It's likely. I can't control that (as much as I wish I could). But what I can control (in this moment, anyway) is building his self-confidence so that he isn't deeply affected by the unkindness and confusion of others. He will know that his family support is steadfast and unwavering. The same goes for my big kiddo and working with Eli has helped me have better communication with Ethan. We've been able to talk about managing his feelings and being able to safely express his emotions. I'm not perfect. Not even close. But I'm striving to be the best mother I can be to each of my wonderfully unique boys.

I am not traveling down this road with blinders of arrogance and self-righteousness. Most days, I feel trepidatious, but I am pushed forward by the complete confidence that I am loving Eli (and Ethan) the very best way that I can. I have been working with several different professionals and reading every book I can get my hands on that addresses gender issues in children. I toss and turn at night worried about doing the right things (as do most mothers). I worry about Ethan, that he is getting the short end of the stick because I'm so focused on helping Eli. But then, I look at Ethan and Eli's smiles, hear their laughter and delighted shrieks in the house and feel their warmth when they hug me goodnight and I permit myself a small break from beating myself up. My little family of four...we are all doing the best we can do. And we are happy and healthy and have each other. And that's really all I need right now.

A couple of weeks ago, Eli had his first soccer game. He chose to wear his pink, light-up sneakers. The ones with Disney princesses on them. To me, when I look at Eli, it's perfectly normal for him to be wearing those shoes. In my mind, they're not pink sneakers. They're Eli's sneakers.

We arrived at the soccer field to meet Eli's teammates for the first time. One of his teammates had his big brother and father there with him. The big brother noticed Eli's shoes immediately and said to his father (in a nasty-ish tone) "Why is he wearing pink sneakers?", to which the dad replied (in an equally nasty-ish tone), "Good question".

My initial response was a physical response. It's the same physical response I get every single time I hear someone make fun of Eli when they think no one is listening, or see someone laugh at him when they think no one is watching. It starts with a my heart beating fast. Then my chest tightens. Then I start tingling from my shoulders all the way down to my fingers and my eyes burn with tears.

I waited a few minutes to compose myself and tried to think of a strategy. I decided to give the dad the benefit of the doubt. I walked up to him, smiling, and said in a friendly voice, "Oh, was your son asking about Eli's pink sneakers?".

The dad looked straight ahead and at first, didn't acknowledge me. I wasn't sure if he even heard me or even knew I was standing right next to him. But he cleared his throat, smirked and said, "Yeah," with a sharp exhale.

At this point, I thought his response to me could be interpreted in a couple of different ways. My gut reaction was to assume that he was a giant ass. My second thought was that perhaps there was a chance that he was just embarrassed. After all, haven't all of our children said something in public about someone else that we wish we could take back?

Going with the idea that he was embarrassed, I said, "Oh, you know, we get SO many questions. Kids are always asking about the way he dresses. He just likes pink and purple."

And then the dad changed the game. He said, "Well, I just figured he had an older sister and those were her shoes."

No. No, he does not have an older sister. They are not her shoes. They are Eli's very own shoes that he just loves. Which is the gist of what I said to him. But what I REALLY wanted to say was, "I'd rather raise a son that dresses in girls' clothes than raise a son who's ignorant."

I knew this guy was just a narrow-minded, insensitive jerk. I don't even know his name and his opinion is unimportant to me. I knew all of this, but I still quietly cried tears of frustration. My frustration doesn't lie in the fact that people don't agree with the way we've chosen to raise our son. My frustration doesn't lie in the fact that there are people who are anti-gay or anti-transgender or whatever it is that Eli will turn out to be. My frustration lies with the fact that people give a shit about what color sneakers my son is wearing. Why does it matter enough to someone to keep them from being kind?

Later that same weekend, we took our boys to the state fair. Eli was wearing his signature hair piece...a braided headband with long strands of hair attached to either side that hang in pig tails. While waiting in line for a ride, a man in front of us could not take his eyes off of Eli. His eyes remained glued on Eli and his hair for the entire 12 minutes that we waited in line. I didn't think that Eli noticed. But I did. I was very uncomfortable standing there, feeling his eyes on us. I was irritated that this guy wasn't even embarrassed enough to look away every time I made eye contact with him and caught him looking.

Eli is much more eloquent about his uniqueness than I could ever be. I am humbled, amazed and proud of his eloquence and of his capability, at such a young age, to so simply and perfectly state the obvious and to not feel judged or embarrassed by it and to put it out there just the way that it is, on the rawest of levels. Eli looked up at me and said in a voice loud enough for the man to hear, "I think that man is confused by my hair."

I had to chuckle. I looked at Eli and said "You know what, Eli? I think you might be right!". I continued on and said, "You know what else? I don't care what that man thinks. Do you care what that man thinks?". Eli thought for a second and said, "No," so I told him, "Good! It doesn't matter what anybody else thinks. If you like your hair, you should keep wearing it."

A week later, I took Eli to the playground where a few children were already playing on the equipment. The older of the two children began pointing and laughing at Eli, who (as usual) was wearing his "hair". The same physical response I had experienced a week earlier returned. But I forced myself to sit back and watch how Eli would respond.

He responded by standing tall, putting his hands on his hips and saying, "I'm a boy and I like girl things."

He said it simply. With strength. And pride.

I was floored. And oh, so proud.

It was a beautiful moment for me as Eli's mother, to stand in awe, watching my son be so mature and grounded and listening as he, once again, stated with simple eloquence the core of who he really is without a trace of embarrassment or shame.

I don't know what the rest of Eli's story is going to be. But I do know that I'm sure there are many experiences like this to come. My hope for him is that he will continue his life possessing the self-awareness and self-confidence that he has been able to muster at age four.

Other people may be confused by Eli, but that kid knows exactly who he is.

Yesterday, after I had finished getting dressed, Eli came into my room and said, "Mommy! Why are you wearing a collared shirt?" I said, "Because I like this shirt," to which he replied with a small smile, "But you look like a boy!".

"Really!?", I thought, "This coming from a boy who wears a sparkly Dora nightgown to bed and wigs and leg warmers!?".

I had to laugh, but I also had to be serious and take the opportunity to drive a lesson home. I asked him how it made him feel when people said he looked like a girl because of something he was wearing ("sad") and asked him how he thought it made me feel when he said I looked like a boy because I had a collar on my shirt ("sad"). I reminded him of past conversations we've had about not poking fun of someone because of what they are wearing or what they look like, that the important part of a person is what's on the inside. He seemed to understand (for the moment, anyway) and he turned around and scampered off to his Barbies.

This conversation appeared to resolve itself easily enough, but I know it's one of many that we will continue to have in order to reiterate the lesson.

I thought about this last night as I put Eli to bed and he told me about all of the things he plays with in his classroom. He told me about the "dress up" center. I asked him what he likes to dress up as and he said, "a builder". I have to admit, I was surprised. I was expecting him to say something like a princess or a ballerina since that's what he likes to dress up as at home.

"What do you like about dressing up as a builder?", I asked.

"The hat," he said.

Okay...so maybe he's going for a Village People kind of thing?

Still, something about this didn't sit right, so I pressed on and after a bit of digging, I got the answer that I knew was the real one lying under the surface: "People think I'm a girl when I dress up in girls' clothes."

"Does that make you feel bad?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

Of course, my first instinct was to be sad and feel sorry for him. I hate the idea of Eli not being Eli because he's worried about what other people think. I hate the idea that questions about wether he's a boy or a girl could upset him. But I also am beginning to learn that a person isn't necessarily being mean when they ask if he's a girl when he's wearing a dress or a wig. Sometimes, they are just being curious. They just want to know.

It's the same principle that applied to when he wanted to know why I was wearing a collared shirt. He wears a collared shirt to school. He's a boy. In his mind, boys wear collared shirts. And his mother, a woman, was wearing a collared shirt so he thought I looked like a boy. He wasn't necessarily being mean, he just was pointing out what was obvious to him and questioning something that doesn't fit into his framework.

This exchange helped me tremendously.  It gave me tools to offer to help him construct open and honest answers to those questions that inevitably come up.  Hopefully, a more cut and dried approach can help avoid hurt feelings when someone asks, "Why do you a have a Barbie lunchbox?".  He doesn't have to assume that they are teasing him and the assumption that they are asking out of curiosity may offer him the ability to respond in a matter-of-fact way, taking the emotion out of the equation completely and perhaps avoiding an upsetting situation.

Of course, I'm not naive enough to think that everyone out there who asks is simply being curious. I know this isn't case. But for now, it is the case and so for now, this is our approach.

As I finished tucking Eli into bed last night, I asked him if he wanted me to get him a new lunchbox, maybe something more subdued (his lunchbox right now is pink, sparkly and has a big old Barbie across the front). He looked at me, wide-eyed and serious and said, "Oh NO. I LOVE my lunchbox."