When I woke up at 6 a.m. on New Year’s Eve, I cued up our Amazon Prime account on the TV and shelled out $30 to buy “Wicked” the day it was released. Yes, I loved the movie when I saw it in the theater and was jazzed to have it available whenever I wanted. But I wasn’t buying it for me — Jackson was counting down the days until he could see the movie again. Sure, he was enthralled by the music and dancing. But the real reason this little con man pretty pleased me into paying way too much to have “Wicked” on our TV? He intends to marry Ariana Grande at the moment.
Before I had kids, I remember thinking how creepy it was for parents to goodnaturedly jest with their youngsters about their boyfriends and girlfriends in their preschool class. And when Jackson hit that age, we tried to steer clear of those matchmaking jokes (except with one another out of Jackson’s earshot about his preschool bestie, whom we have determined will indeed be joining our family; sorry, Ariana). We want him to understand he can have just friendships with people of any gender, he doesn’t have to get married if he doesn’t want to, he can marry whomever he wants.
However, as much as we may want to avoid the decades-too-early marriage talk, we’re finding that it’s inevitably happening anyway — and, as LGBTQ+ parents, we have to be especially judicious in how we guide this discourse.
Love and marriage
In the last few years, Jackson has wanted to marry loads of people: his preschool bestie, the boy down the street, his teacher, often me or Ashlee. Clearly, he doesn’t grasp the actual societal meaning of the word marriage, but what he does seem to get is that marriage in some way equates to love and caring. We were proud to have been able to demonstrate that to him — and curious about how else we could help him shape his conceptions about marriage and love.
So, instead of telling him to can the marriage talk for a few more decades, we’ve leaned into acceptance, hoping that will allow him to bring an open-mindedness that can serve as an important foundation for his future relationships. Marrying a boy today and a girl tomorrow? All good. Marrying two people at once? Go for it. Marrying someone you’ve never met? Save me a seat at the wedding. Deciding you’re not getting married? Love it.
Now, he’ll be marrying Glinda the Good Witch. I could tell as we clicked our seatbelts in the car after seeing “Wicked,” that Jackson was feeling goofy about something. With a sheepish smile, he said “I liked that pink witch.” He went on to ask me which boy I liked. After a quick pause, he said, “Wait, or girl.”
Society shows him that relationships and marriage are boy-girl. But we and all the other LGBTQ+ families he knows get to show him, by simply being our families, that gender is an afterthought in marriage; love, instead, can be the qualifier.
What’s in a title?
Jackson’s family may be a bit out of the box compared to the kids in his class, but that’s allowed him to think outside of the box about not only marriage but also parenting.
Recently, he randomly asked while we were watching cartoons before bed how many other kids have a Mom and a Mommy (Ashlee’s the former, I’m the latter) because no one in his class does. I steeled myself for a tough conversation but it quickly surprised me. He wasn’t frustrated that he doesn’t have a Mom and Dad like the rest of his class — he was annoyed that they didn’t get the difference between his Mom and his Mommy.
Apparently, when he mentioned our names, several other first graders said, “Oh yeah, you have two moms.” And Jackson just couldn’t get it: Why didn’t they understand that a Mom is one thing, and a Mommy is another?
Because to him, those particular titles aren’t given to you because of your gender. All he has ever known is two female parents, since the moment he came into this world, so he sees a person’s parenting profile as not intrinsically tied to gender. I hope that reality has enabled him — and other kids of LGBTQ+ parents — to appreciate that a parent’s gender actually plays very little role in the quality of their kids’ relationship with them.
To Jackson, a Mom is someone who’s always up for adventures, teaches you how to go with the flow, has the most creative stories with the best characters and voices, loves to go head to head on “Mario Kart” but doesn’t always let you win, and can geek out on science stuff with you. A Mom is someone who works hard to help other people but brings just as much compassion with her when she gets home. And a Mommy is someone who teaches you to find comfort in the rules but to learn it’s OK to bend them sometimes, to have more patience with yourself, to look to nature when you need to recharge. A Mommy will always have the snacks packed, and will give you way more information about history than you really wanted with your one question.
Parents who use the titles “Mom” and “Dad” are just as different from one another, and have equally unique relationships with their kids, as me and Ashlee are and do. Yet we live in a society that prizes binary ideas about marriage and parenting, and those names may carry with them some presumptions or stereotypes from that society. Because our roles as parents aren’t defined by gender, Jackson differentiates us in other ways, which I hope has allowed him to understand his parents, and the concept of parenting, beyond his maturity.
As Jackon, August and Avery grow up and possibly start relationships of their own and maybe one day have kids, I hope their perspective on parenting will stick with them:
Just like marriage, parenting isn’t about gender, it’s about loving someone so much that you want to bring that love to life every day for them. It’s a lesson I think will help them value fairness, equity and empathy as their relationships develop. Above all, I hope their Mom and Mommy were able to show them that seeing the human in front of them — and not the norms of society — can create the beautiful, deep and fulfilling relationships they deserve.