Mommy with a Penis

On December 19th I arrived with the children at Newark Airport around ten in the evening, got to the hotel about eleven, reunited with Michael and the four of us took our first walk to Times Square close to midnight. At one point, Maxwell, who'd never seen such hustle and bustle, slowed down to a halt and asked in a small voice filled with apprehension and wonder, "Can we just stay here?" Ah, yes. I remember that fresh off the turnip truck feeling only too well. The Big Apple is very special to me. It was my home for twelve years, not to mention it was also where Michael and I met and professed our undying love, so I couldn't wait to visit my old stomping grounds, walk the streets, ride the subway, see shows on the way  identified as Broad, and chow down eats that are in direct conflict with my diet: pastrami on rye, late-night slices of Ray's, street-vendor falafel, and an honest to gawd toasted New York bagel with a schmear. One significant difference fr...

At the W Hotel in San Francisco the reading material is thin. There's USA Today and, oh yes, USA Today . And in thumbing through last Thursday's paper, which took me all of thirteen point six five minutes, what most grabbed my attention were the letters commenting on New York passing gay marriage. There were four letters total, two pro New York's decision, and two anti. (Interesting to note, the dissenting voices were given double the space.) One of the naysayers was from Texas and the other Ontario. What's wrong, Ontario, did folks stop listening to your vitriol in your neck of the woods, where gay marriage is legal? Did you so want to be heard that your only recourse was to reach across the border, finding voice in the Letters section of USA Today? To support their same sex marriage argument, the two anti letter writers cited the Constitution, the Bible, our Founding Fathers, American values, scientific data or lack thereof, and Merriam-Webster; an auspicious groupin...

Looking back, I think it's a bad routine. Both our kids have the annoying habit of waking up a smidge after sunrise. Doesn't matter what time they went to bed or how blacked out their curtains are, at five forty-six they're wide awake demanding attention. At one and a half, Sebastian would climb out of his crib and come into our room. Michael and I would invite him into our California king where he'd refall asleep, allowing us to catch that forty-first and perhaps even forty-second wink. After a while, Bash needed a sippy cup to get back to sleep. I revised the routine. We added a beverage center (fancy schmancy terminology meaning small fridge) in the island when we redid our kitchen. Instead of coming directly to our bedroom, I taught my son to go to the beverage center, where his sippy cup would be waiting, filled with PediaSure the night before, and then come to our bedroom, slurp himself silly, and fall back asleep between the snugly warmth of his two daddies. And ...