Did you see this line-up? It’s astounding how much we can learn in 3 short days, but I’m doing it all… including the yoga and meditation. I’m in. All in.

It’s funny, my daughter told someone recently that I was going to a conference and that I wrote a book. I was surprised because she prefers that we live relatively (almost completely) stealth so I probably produced a more than inquisitive look at her proud declaration. (Still working on my poker face truth be told…) Later I asked about it and she simply replied that she was happy that I was “helping people be better parents.” Whoa!!!!?? 

I wish that I could assume such a glorious job title, but alas I felt more comfortable clarifying that I ask questions and talk about things that might help parents along their journey. Simple. A take-it-or-leave-it type of thing. No pressure. But in her eyes, when she sees the cover of my book she’s constantly reminded of our talks about the parents who may not understand their child’s gender identity, or as she prefers to it as “how people feel inside”. She may ponder what life would be like if we didn’t listen to her or forced her to be someone she isn’t. That breaks my heart.

Even my son brought on the water works today. Bright and early, before 6am he chose to absolve me of my parental duties by telling me that he “forgives me for missing his graduation” and gave me an enormous hug that made me wish that this was my wake up call every morning. Mind you, he is graduating from preschool, which is huge for him and totally important. I get that. Still.

I start to tear up when I think of connecting with others this weekend. Why? Maybe because I feel the emotional weight of families who struggle with issues surrounding gender expression. I was there just a few years ago, not knowing where to turn or how to help. Life looked condensed in a way, with fear closing all the doors I wish were open. That was then.

Today we are free. Not completely transparent, but living and standing in our truth day in and day out. And I have so many people to thank for that. You know who you are – you beautiful, courageous, loving, loyal, open and supportive friends who have stood by me even when my brave disguise had worn thin. You’ve lifted me, carried me, soothed me and inspired me to do more for all of the families, like ours, that want to live genuinely, no matter what that looks like. I’m eternally grateful. And blessed.

Despite me not thinking much of an ad the simply celebrates parents and kids (and really cute clothes BTW), apparently lots of people can’t seem to stop talking about it. Some even claim that Jenna Lyons is confusing her son and making his life more difficult. Thankfully some professionals have come out with an acknowledgement that this is simply not true. If my Mac wasn’t acting wonky I’d add some links, but I’m guessing you’ve read all the reports in the LA Times and Chicago Tribune, am I right?

Let’s all agree that toenail polish can’t make you change your gender or affect your sexual orientation. Trust me, just as much as all the blue in the world couldn’t make Hope feel like a boy, all the pink in the world won’t make Will feel like a girl. We feel the way we feel regardless of how exterior forces persuade us. The reality is that there are children right now being dressed in clothes that don’t feel right for their identified gender and they hate it. They are being forced to live a way they don’t feel is genuine and that is painful. I’ve seen it.

While I would love to thank J Crew for celebrating trans kids, I don’t really get that in this ad and frankly, I don’t have to. I see a mom and her child having fun and I love it. What I will express gratitude for is that Jenna Lyons (and J Crew) are courageous enough to depict real life through their work. Plain and simple.

Obviously J Crew struck a chord with some people. Hopefully this spark will ignite many conversations where minds can open, hearts can connect and understanding can grow. That’s the balance of life. Something happens that challenges how we view life and we take away from it what we need. Another day comes and another spark ignites.

As the name of my blog and my book suggest, I’m a Seussian, a devoted follower of Dr. Seuss and I strongly believe than most of life’s biggest mysteries could be solved by simply reading his books. Love. Vanity. War. Conservation. Integrity. Boredom. Courage. Government. Mischief. Freedom. Ethics. Commitment. You name it, I’ve grasped the concept first from Dr. Seuss. First as a child, then as an adult, I’ve gone back to his books when I’ve needed to take that flight of fancy into what really means anything to me in this world.

There is nothing more soothing than Oh! The Places You’ll Go! when you crave enlightenment. Yes, we WILL move mountains. 100% guaranteed.

Every moment for the past 40 years has been rapid, like I’m navigating wet stepping-stones set too far apart across an angry current, and you just know the bone crushing waterfall waits around the corner. You can feel it. Adrenaline pulsing, mind racing activity focused on sheer survival. I’ve always been able to quickly stay the course and hop back and forth across the slippery banks of pain and pleasure. But what about happiness?

When Hope transitioned almost two years ago I had to stop staring at my feet and let go of where I thought I was headed. My inwardness (my extroverted disguise) was challenged for the first time, despite acting as a mother for almost 6 years and I needed to let go. I jumped, sailed down that river and across the bend to meet that watery cliff… and off I went.

I’ve been falling these past two years, and sharing that lovely suspension with you. In that time I’ve caught my breath, used my voice and even lifted my self-imposed veil of secrecy. I’ve been the mother and the person I’d always hoped I could be. Meaningful stuff. And, like every journey, you never stay in one spot for too long.

Last week I felt the whoosh, like when you nervously dive off the highest diving board and finally ignite with the water below, and I had to make another choice. Stay in the dark bliss below the surface where you can hide or rise up to face what lies above in the light. Tempting as the coziness below feels, I am destined to ascend. To move on. Hope and Will show me that every day, their resiliency and raw courage radiating with each smile. I’ve made it. I jumped and I survived. Now what?

“Allow yourself to be needy Jen,” my Reiki Master told me this weekend, “Other people, I tell them to be less dependent on others, but you? You do just fine all by yourself.” And it’s true. I’d rather crawl into my comforting seclusion than have to work out life’s complexities with others. It feels weird. I wasn’t raised that way. I was trained to be fiercely independent, strong to a fault and so resilient it scares people, but that’s not taking me to the next level spiritually. I’m not in this world alone, and I don’t want to be. I want more. I need more.

So for the first time friends are hearing that I need them and it feels good. I guess I always thought that if I asked for what I needed that no one would listen. Back then I didn’t have enough love for myself to even try. Most friends have generously opened their arms wide to embrace me, accepting me for who I am right now – imperfect and completely honest. Others lost my phone number (and email address) when I showed my first sign of weakness. It stings a bit, but when I look around at who is left I see that I am blessed. I am loved. I am whole. And I can move forward with my heart and mind wide open.

Take this morning… one sleepy child was in a huff that the other had (what appeared to be) more strawberry-banana smoothie in their little Lilly Pulitzer pink and green glass. Heaven forbid! Shoulders crunched, faces scrunched, eyes squinted. What time is it again? The lovey mojo of good morning kisses were long gone until I turned to iTunes to rescue us. Not even a song later I saw their postures loosen, smiles emerged and then, laughter graced my little kitchen. Saved, yet again, by the power of music. As the two pranced off, best friends once more, I stayed behind loading the dishwasher when this Tracy Chapman song came on and it hit me like a ton of bricks…

If you knew that you would die today,

Saw the face of God and love,

Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that love can break your heart
When you’re down so low you cannot fall
Would you change?
Would you change?

How bad, how good does it need to get?
How many losses? How much regret?
What chain reaction would cause an effect?
Makes you turn around,
Makes you try to explain,
Makes you forgive and forget,
Makes you change?
Makes you change?

If you knew that you would be alone,
Knowing right, being wrong,
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that you would find a truth
That brings up pain that can’t be soothed
Would you change?
Would you change?

How bad, how good does it need to get?
How many losses? How much regret?
What chain reaction would cause an effect?
Makes you turn around,
Makes you try to explain,
Makes you forgive and forget,
Makes you change?
Makes you change?

Are you so upright you can’t be bent?
If it comes to blows are you so sure you won’t be crawling?
If not for the good, why risk falling?
Why risk falling?

If everything you think you know,
Makes your life unbearable,
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you’d broken every rule and vow,
And hard times come to bring you down,
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that you would die today,
If you saw the face of God and love,
Would you change?
Would you change?
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you saw the face of God and love
If you saw the face of God and love
Would you change?
Would you change?

Last night I found myself reading into the wee hours, that’s my thing when I have too much on my mind, so I grabbed Deepak Chopra’s Power, Freedom & Grace to shine a light on what was happening in my life: finances, prickly relationships, school next year for the kids, things I wish I would have done, but didn’t have the courage to, words left unspoken. I felt like a top spiraling, but not the way you’d normally picture it quickly gliding in smooth circles, all strong and centered. No, this was the loopy, falling to one side, drunk-looking top that couldn’t decide whether to keep going or just plop over. I was flailing, so I cracked open the vessel that I hoped had an answer. It didn’t, but I got tired enough to put my thoughts to rest, at least for one night.

When I woke up my quandaries still plagued me, but in the backdrop like white noise as the kids barked at one another about breakfast and equality. Then, in my peaceful state of contemplating whether the Crate & Barrel eco-friendly bowl could actually unravel in the dishwasher like they cautioned, I began hearing the answers louder than the questions.

Every moment is another chance.

Click here to listen to the podcast and tell me what you think.

I was naive enough to trot out my front door to pick up my son, happy as a clam, when I hung up with the host. Little did I know they finished the hour with callers who provided their questions and thoughts, free of my answers and perspective. Maybe that was best for me at the time? I’ve had mixed responses from the people who listened. Some folks said that the host, and some of the callers, were hard on me. Some said that they thought it went well.

Me? I think that the host needs to stir the pot whatever the subject, get the listeners thinking about what they believe in, keep them engaged until they can’t help it but call in and give their two cents. That makes for good talk radio. I don’t fault the host for his line of questioning, or the callers for their reaction. That is what is.

The silver lining? Our message of love and acceptance reached a group of people who might not otherwise know what transgender means, let alone understand that some people come to their gender awareness at such a young age. Before they might have pictured a drag queen when they heard the word transgender, but maybe that image was challenged for an hour or so. Maybe they took this subject back to their dinner table or water cooler. Maybe they did a little research of their own. Or just maybe they opened their heart enough to move closer toward that gender diverse child in their own lives.

Again, yoga saved my day. In times of difficulty I have my little mantras that bring me back. As long as I have my breath I endure anything. Even when the questions get harder. Stand in my truth. Especially when people don’t agree with me. Compassion is my guide. My life lessons are right here before me and all I need to do is be present.

His hand rests on her flat stomach. His face glowing as he whispers words only she will ever hear. Words of joy that only two people who have a child together ever know. I can’t take my eyes off of them, their light shining into the waiting room where I sit waiting for my test, and my mind relaxes back in time.

“It’s a boy!” The words sounded like a symphony. Even though my money was on a girl, Ava or perhaps Bella, my heart leapt with the excitement of knowing. This first introduction.

“What is it?” was the first thing people said when we called after the appointment and I happily supplied the information. It’s true. I was one of those people who needed to know, and even gently berating friends who didn’t find out the sex of their baby. “I’m a planner!” I’d explain, so confidently. So quick. I was so young in so many ways. What did I know?

These days gender plays a much less relevant role in our lives, but because we opt to see both sides of the coin or so I thought until my son came home from a birthday party hell-bent that the pink horse birthday cake could only be a girl.

“How would we know that Sweetie?” I already saw the answer clear as day from the way he looked at me, so sly. Still, the exercise is so worth the time.

“She was pink Mom!” he replied without hesitation. Really??!!? My child still adhering to traditional gender stereotyping? All the discussions, education, summer camps and conferences? Really??!!? His sister is gender diverse for heaven’s sake! And he still believes that pink makes a girl? Tells us how strong our culture reinforces these “norms” or the fact that Will found a way to mess with me, really get my goat.

“Pink is just a color Darling,” I suggest calmly to my son’s definitive statement, “Anyone could wear pink or be pink for that matter. It doesn’t make you a boy or a girl.” By this time Hope strolls in and nods in agreement just like an older sister would. Will looks at both of us for a moment, shrugs his shoulders, a classic “Okay” move on his part, and moves on to the next fun thing.

I guess it took me this long to release the trap of the strict binary code on my brain, I could at last give him a bit more time. Still, I wonder if that couple will find out at twenty weeks or remain blissfully unaware.

Every time I would be ready to take the step into the light I found some way to go in the other direction. I wasn’t really ready at all. Like many parents of gender diverse children, I feared that someone would hurt my children because they do not agree with our lives. That thought paralyzes me, the power of people who simply don’t understand. It took me a year to pull myself up by the bootstraps and remind myself that nothing will get better unless we educate the community and advocate for all of our children and their families.

Once the book was published and sitting in my hot, little hands, I felt the strength to put aside my fears and practice what I preach. I needed to believe in being who I was, a mom who loves her children with every fiber of her being. Still, I wondered how I could put a barrier between the image of my public self and the reality of my private self for their sake. Kind of a disconnect for folks seeking to do us harm. I guess living stealth for this long made me question everything around me and I wondered how I could insulate my children from any negative backlash.

Glasses! There you go! Sure, I usually wear my glasses when doing things with my advocacy work and they might make me look a little different, but would that make a significant difference? Then my mother suggested I wear a wig to cover my signature short pixie. I have to tell you, I considered it for a second before I remembered how ridiculous it was. Why do I need to camouflage myself?

The fear is real. It’s what prevents parents and caregivers across the country (and the world) from allowing their child to present as their identified gender outside the home. Every time I talk about gender diversity or talk with families in similar circumstances I relate the single experience that made the biggest impact on me and my family. It was the afternoon my child (pre-transition) asked me if he could wear a dress to a concert in the park.

When he asked I could feel time slow to a crawl as he stared at me, searching for the answer to a question that he didn’t directly ask. He was really asking if I believed everything I told the kids about being true to yourself. Was it really okay for him to wear a dress to the concert if he wanted? Then I asked myself. Did I really stand behind my own words? Could we handle the transition from him presenting inside the house to him presenting outside in the real world? It’s a big jump, and we did it.

Once you make that leap to presenting in the outside world, things change. Yes, you are free for the first time. Free to express yourself out in the open. What a liberating moment! I saw the exuberance on my child’s face being able to walk outdoors with a favorite outfit on. At the same time, I started to build a layer of armour against the dirty looks and the unkind comments like “Why is that boy wearing a pink dress?” Subconsciously I piled on more emotional protection when family and friends turned their backs on us as my child moved from just presenting full-time to transitioning to living full-time as her identified gender, a girl. The pain was immense. The loss, hard to make sense of yourself, let alone explain to small children.

Slowly I began to realize that the hiding I was doing, even as insignificant as it seemed, was unnecessary. If people wanted to find me, they would. As a mom, I am in protector mode 24/7 so that will never change. I trust myself. I will always put my best foot forward with regards to their safety and well-being, my only true concern, and now I’ve slowly started to accept that the light isn’t a threat. It is a freedom.

I showed up to the television studio unsure of what I was going to say and waited patiently as everyone busily prepared around me. My hands fiddled with my glasses as I listened to my kirtan music through headphones. I nervously put them on and then I took them off as if I was testing the waters. The more Krishna Das sang in my ears, the less I tugged at my glasses. At one point I took them off, slipped them into my handbag and then I totally let them go. Even before the producer finished asking me if I was ready I was nodding my head up and down, steady in my resolve. I had successfully taken off my glasses.

Just like that afternoon when my child confidently walked outside the front door ready to go to the concert, I smiled as I sat down in my seat, raised my head proudly and looked straight into the lens.

“What if she just starts feeling like a boy again?” they inquire, usually with a look on their face that stresses that what I am about to say is critical for their piece of mind. Sometimes the questioner impatiently puts their hand to their chin and squint their eyes as if that makes whatever comes next easier to swallow. Other times they lean in with urgency or lean back with a chill and fold their arms tightly to their shoulders bracing themselves with a self-hug, as if what comes out of my mouth next is some seriously classified information. Regardless of the style, the folks that ask this question are more often than not hinged on my answer.

I have to admit here that I do not have a poker face. If you know me, you’ll start laughing here. It’s true. After dozens of failed attempts at stifling my extremely expressive facial expressions (and throw in hand gestures for good measure) I’ve just come to accept it as a part of me. What can you do? What you see is what you get with me, for better or worse.

“Okay,” I reply and then I just stop. My friends have reported that I usually say this rather quickly, with a smile, one raised eyebrow and a slight shrug. You can imagine the responses…

“What do you MEAN okay?”

“What’s OKAY about that?”

“No, but what are you going to DO?”

It’s about this time I slip into caregiver mode, a “shhhhh… there, there dear…” vibe seeps out of me as I recognize that this person in front of me needs more. More than my okay-ness with my child’s gender identity. More than my casual attitude toward our lives shifting drastically in another direction. More than my quiet acceptance of the future. More.

That’s how some very long and very meaningful conversations begin, with well-intentioned questions, and I love it. The dialogue opens up channels of thought, for both of us. Talking always takes us to the next step. I’m not saying it resolves everything. We may get to a place where we disagree more than we did before, but it’s a jumping off point. That’s exciting stuff to me. I guess that’s why I like to do talks and open the floor up for discussion, to hear people’s thoughts. There is so much out there I’ve yet to learn and I feel ready.

“None of us know what will happen next,” is usually what I return to when I’m talking with someone who wants me to shine up my crystal ball. It’s a fact we can all agree on and relate to, even if it feels foreign at first. It’s an aspect of parenting that we all face, no matter what our family looks like. Parents cannot plan out their children’s lives, no matter how hard we try. If we work like hell to shape them into what we want, we will most often fail. Children are not under our control. I see parents as guides for life. Be ready for your camper to go off course once in a while, it’s their journey.

Inevitably life will take its course and we can hop on the ride or sit by the sidelines planning our next move for eternity. Ditch the map! Enjoy, make the most of it and if you can, share love along the way.

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Thank you!