The wedding as an afterthought

We got married. You were not invited. I’m sorry. We were invited, but barely.

Pam and I went on our first date in July of 1999, and it’s taken me at least that last 15 years to sort out enough of my feelings about marriage to actually decide to get married. And I’m still sorting. But there were finally enough reasons, and by that I mean enough benefits, to getting married that we did it.

weddingphoto

Marriage, in the most practical terms, affords certain protections and guarantees. If I sound like a lawyer, that’s intentional, because this is about the law. Our marriage, which took place on the last day in September, was conducted by a judge and approved by a courthouse clerk in Illinois. We didn’t have a wedding. And we barely told anyone about our plans, because I didn’t want people to feel left out. How ironic.

But the irony doesn’t end there. A week later, and four days after we returned home to Colorado, the media megaphone announced that the Supreme Court had refused to entertain any more cases banning gay marriage, because they have made up their mind on this topic: People of the same sex are allowed to get married and entitled to the same benefits, at least as far as they’re concerned. I was driving home from the dentist when Pam called to tell me.

“The AG is issuing marriage licenses in Colorado,” she said. Not one for time-wasters like “Hello” or “How is your day, sweetheart,” it took me a minute figure out who the AG was and what we were talking about.

“Should we have known this would happen?”

My worry is always that we’re not legitimate homosexuals, not because we don’t love each other and enjoy doing unsanctimonious acts to each other, but because we’re not following the gay causes closely enough.

“I don’t think so,” said Pam. “Do you regret getting married last week?”

“Of course not!” And I didn’t regret going to Chicago, either, because we’ve always wanted to eat at a Rick Bayless restaurant and see the Field Museum of Natural History. So, if you’re wondering about a honeymoon, that was it. It wasn’t the Seychelles, but it was lovely.

We might have a wedding. We want to get rings. And like all of our big life events, it’s coming to us slowly and in small parts. I like it this way, most of the time, because in spite of wanting to believe that change comes with iconic images and large bursts of joy, by now I understand that life is made up of small, sometimes almost unnoticeable acts.

It’s taken more than a hundred years for our collective democracy to decide that I could marry the person I love. And it feels like a consolation prize. It promises that I can ask for and should receive all of the monetary and legal benefits that marriage has bestowed on everyone else who has made this choice, but it doesn’t guarantee much else. It doesn’t feel like a gift as much as a necessity.

And now to decide if we will have a wedding. What do you think?

Please tell me your name is Sarah

Hi. I’m Sarah. Call me Sarah. Do not call me Ishmael. Because that is not my name, and it feels just a little bit too much like cultural appropriation. And I may have stolen that from Jennifer Lawson. Or possibly Moby Dick.

I am writing this, because we may be meeting for the first time at the conference named BlogHer ’14. But before we talk about that let me thank you for making it all the way here. If you like reading enough to actually look me up on my blog, I’m guessing that you also got that literary reference I just made. We’re so smart, me and you. But just a warning, my smartness does not actually include remembering your name, especially if I am tired, which is all the time.

allkindsofSarah

All kinds of Sarahs. Just kidding. They are all me!

When some people become fatigued they get cranky, but I lose the capacity to recall proper nouns. This is when I start yelling “dog, get out of the kitchen” and “children, go to bed” at the end of a long day. Oh, and I am probably cranky, too.

What is your name? (Put it in the comments. Seriously. I have no idea what your name is.)

Secretly, I am hoping your name is Sarah, because I collect those. My dream, actually, is to have friends who are only named Sarah. That way, I’ll never forget their names, and they will never feel offended, except when I offend them by saying other things like women should have the same rights as men and the same pay.

Recently, I have been actively looking for people named Sarah so I can approach them about being friends. I’m getting superstitious about this. And I have even paid to meet people named Sarah, like funding this Kickstarter for Sara Benicasa because duh. And she also said it was gay and there would be cheesecake, so obviously I should be there.
 

So anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Sarah.

Let’s be friends on all the social media:

Me on Facebook
This blog on Facebook
This blog on Twitter
Me on Twitter

I also write for BluntMoms, The HuffPost, Village Q.

See you there!

(Don’t forget to add your name to the comments.)

For your viewing pleasure…

… my performance at LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER last Mother’s Day. Which, by the way, is spelled Mothers’ Day in our case, which is doubly awesome and totally real and even has real greeting cards because we made them. You’re welcome!

But back to the video. Here it is:

To enrich the experience, I’ll give you some discussion topics:

1) Most parents name their babies. Are babies likely to return the favor? Should this factor in to your name-picking process for the child? I think the safe bet is yes.

2) Canadians. Love. Hats. Am I right?

3) Seriously, can you tell how much make-up I’m wearing? So much that my neck was tired. It’s why I keep looking down.

Feel free to share your thoughts with the group!

 

Find me on Twitter @7littlemexicans

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© Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

 

I’ve hired a scientist to watch over the babies

A few weeks ago, I found out that Lego was coming out with “female scientist” mini-figures. I’m not a huge fan of Lego, but I am a huge fan of female scientists. So, I ordered one. Because there is only one.

Don’t get me wrong, there are other females. There is Mermaid, Hollywood Starlet, Fortune Teller and Pretzel Girl. Wait! All is not lost, there is also Librarian, Zookeeper and Swimming Champion — all of whom are female.

When Scientist arrived, I needed a place to put her and next to these seemed like as good a place as any.

babies

I bought all these babies when I was trying to create the original banner for this blog, because when you’re going through fertility treatments you’re either going to have no babies or a whole pile of babies. Your choices basically look like this:

toomanybabies

And I know some people will be all “Jesus doesn’t make too many babies.” But Jesus doesn’t make these babies, scientists do. And scientists will be all “this is statistics, so we need to increase your odds of success by filling your body up with pre-babies, called zygotes.” It’s complicated, but that is the basic idea.

So I put my Scientist here with the babies.

chemist

According to Lego, “Thanks to the Scientist’s tireless research, Minifigures that have misplaced their legs can now attach new pieces to let them swim like fish, slither like snakes or stomp around like robots.” So, even though she looks like a chemist, she’s actually Dr. Frankenstein.

Then, I tried to order more female scientist mini-figures because one is never enough. And there weren’t any, so I ordered an androgynous-looking surgeon.  I put her next to the chemist.

surgeon

Then, I realized that I’ve turned into Richard Dreyfus from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. But instead of building shrines to aliens with mashed potatoes, I’m re-creating scenes from my IVF treatment using Legos.

Now we just need to name all these babies.

Find me on Twitter @7littlemexicans
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© Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Tonight at 9

So, you all know that I’m a recovering journalist. Well, just like any recovering anything, I sometimes backslide. But this lapse was for good, not evil.

I interviewed the moms behind a modern-day civil rights movement for BlogHer this weekend. Check it out here. Read more of my thoughts on this excellent documentary here on Village Q to be super-prepared when you watch the movie The Case Against 8 on HBO. Tonight at 9. Seriously.

thecaseagainst801

Find me on Twitter @7littlemexicans

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© Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Unbreakable lunch dates

This.

wynn-sippy

This grainy pic of our first-born child wouldn’t bring most mothers to tears, unless they were feeling really vulnerable about their Instagram skills. But I’m sharing the story behind my emotional reaction to this crappy photo over at Spawn and Survive today. Here’s a hint: like so many things in life, it has to do with boobs.

Spawn and Survive: When baby won’t take a bottle

 

Find me on Twitter @7littlemexicans

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© Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

Meat: a man’s job

If you follow us, you know that there aren’t a lot of Y chromosomes running around our house. None, actually. When people hear that, they usually have questions. And in this season of BBQs and patio parties, when America has burgers on the brain, that question is almost always: Who “mans” the grill in a house of no men?

Well, America, I’m speaking out about meat carving in my family over at BLUNTmoms today. Head on over and figure out how we manage to survive the summer sans man.

bigstock-a-woman-on-FIRE-in-front-of-a-19386794-620x330

BLUNTmoms: Who Will Carve the Meat?

Find me on Twitter @7littlemexicans

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© Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

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