One for the team

Rowan is wearing his Habs T-shirt to school today (and look at me, even knowing who the Habs are). We bought the shirt for him in the Montreal airport, en route home from Chicago (because of course why wouldn't you fly from Chicago to Thunder Bay via Montreal and Toronto, making what should be a two-hour trip into an eight-hour one?), and he's already customized it, scrawling “31 Price” on it for his favourite Montréal Canadien (goalie Carey Price, obviously. I looked that up on the Internet.).

The souvenir he really wanted from our trip, though, was a Chicago Blackhawks jersey. We didn't get him one, though, for equally obvious reasons, which I talk about more in today's post on Today's Parent:

I know I’m late to the party on this particular controversy, but, come on: how is it that we aren’t yet past the idea that it’s at all acceptable to appropriate First Nations names and symbols for sports teams? I’m not going to repeat the arguments that have been hashed out for decades now about the Cleveland Indians and the Atlanta Braves and the Washington Redskins. At best, the practice is insensitive and inaccurate and perpetuates stereotypes. At worst, it’s racist and potentially damaging — to both native and non-native populations.

For the record, we did talk to both boys about the hockey jersey — one of those talks where Rachel and I were completely serious and earnest and they were somewhat receptive but also kind of flighty and subject-change-y. In other words, it's going to be an ongoing discussion. But I think they got the basic gist of it — let's hope that the NHL and the NFL and the NBA and everyone else does, too.

Image courtesy shop.nhl.com.

Mama’s Baby, Papa’s Maybe

Morning. Today, you can find me guest-posting over at the Queer Pride Chronicles. I'm very happy to have been asked to contribute to this blog, which is part of the exhibition Generations of Queer: Robert Flack / John Greyson / Elisha Lim / Kiley May's (www.ocadu.ca/onsite) at Onsite [at] OCAD U, the Ontario College of Art and Design's professional gallery:

The exhibition presents vital narratives through the works of Toronto-based artists Robert Flack, John Greyson, Elisha Lim and Kiley May. Influenced by age, background, current context and health, each of these artists has different stories to tell. Bringing these four artists together, the exhibition is creating a dialogue between the works of two senior queer artists who began producing in the 1980's and two younger artists who have come into queer discourses as beneficiaries of the activism of their predecessors. Please visit our website for a full listing of educational events and workshops accompanying this exhibition. www.ocadu.ca/onsite

I've shared the essay "Mamas' Baby, Papa's Maybe," from  And Baby Makes More: Known Donors, Queer Parents & Our Unexpected Families. Funny to reread this piece, nearly six years after I first wrote it. Life is so much less question-y now. Have a look, and check out some of the other posts up there.

You know what's awesome about Mother's Day? The Internet.

If you know me at all well, or if you’ve been reading here for a while, you know about my ambivalent relationship to Mother’s Day. I thought I was done with the story, but you never really done with those kinds of foundational stories, are you? Here’s one more version, for the Mother’s Day edition of Today’s Parent.

My ambivalence about Mother’s Day, though, is changing, in large part because of that whole Interwebs/social media thang. I know, it sucks up your time when you should be focusing on writing the novel rather than reading about attack cats and Solange, but the thing about the Internet is that it can create visibility and communities where before there were none. Which is what I blogged about this week at Today’s Parent:

When Mother’s Day isn’t a Hallmark holiday for you, it can be a very lonely time. You sit there, quietly smiling, and wishing that other people knew about the grief and complicated feelings that accompany—or eclipse—the joy for so many of us. It used to be that those of us with complicated relationships to Mother’s Day dealt with the day on our own. But with Facebook, and Twitter, and texting and Instagram and any number of other technologies, we can do it together.

So thank you to everyone on my various feeds who came together on Mother’s Day and made me feel like part of a community. That’s what real nurturing is all about.

Thanks to Alexandra, Cheryl, Dresden, Elan, Joan, Laurie and Tracy (oh, yeah — and my kids), who — like so many of you — have helped to redeem Mother’s Day for me.