Kindy

Well school started off well. B doesn't want to leave. He is a little nervous at first. But who blames him. The teacher looked like she was going to cry today during parent teacher conference when she saw the last 3 months of papers of them making him write his birth name. Each page he had to write his full birth name 10 times.

B and his sister each got a book. Little sister was upset that she did not get a book. She was also sad that she did not get to do the fancy picture or show the teachers how much she could count or how she knew her colours.

Another awesome thing for B happened today. We joined Scouts! B and H are going to be beavers! They start next week. I was nervous about signing them up. I was worried I would have to check that dreaded female box. The one that did not work with B and his gender identity.

I got the nerve to talk to the main leader. I asked her about this line and pointed to the medical issues line. I lowered my voice and explained my child is transgendered.  A look of shock came over her face and she asked, what one? When I said it was B she said she would have never know. She says by the way the kids are running around and having fun, she said that I have 2 girls and boy. She said it would be no problem. The group is a non religious one. She will only let the other leader know in case of any medical emergency. I felt a lot better knowing that B will be accepted.

We also had our last apt for the assessment. Our Dr said that yes B has Gender Identity Disorder. He is transgendered. He gave a few stats on kids growing out of it, or kids that just end up being gay. But he told me that when kids come out like this early, before puberty they are truly transgendered. Right now he says to just love B the way he is. To use male pronouns, and his boy name. I still cry as his birth name was the one I had picked out since I was a teenager. It hurts to be loosing it. I feel like I need a grave to cry on.

BUT I have my SON. He is my only son. I will love him more then anything in the world. I care about him so much. I will do anything to take away his pain. I will be right behind him to give him support to stand up to all the naysayers. I will love and have fun with him. He is my boy. my son.

Needing love.

The kids who need the most love will ask for it in the most unloving ways. 

This a quote I came across on Facebook as I'm sitting here waiting for our lasagna to bake. It hit home to me. 

My kids are all very cuddly. They all are loving. But looking back on how B had been acting in the last 3-4 months. I see all the acting out. The fighting, the yelling. The being defiant to teacher at preschool. The anger. 

B just needed some love. He needed to be shown love and caring. He needed to be loved by having daycare respect his human rights. He needed love by his classmates respecting him. But he didn't get that. 

Because he didn't get that we had acting out. Hitting kids. Hitting teachers. Scratching friends. Pushing his sister down the stairs. Pushing kids off the playground. And when things got its worst choking another kid. 

I'm so glad I showed him love. The love of calling him HIM. Using male pronouns. The day of cuddling in bed watching cartoons and telling each other our thoughts and feelings. Having special days. And the best thing, keeping him away as much as possible from the teacher who verbally abused him and did not treat him within his human rights.

Today B is so much happier then just 4 weeks ago. School is starting. He has a bunch of new clothes (I'm a H&M fanatic!) and has all his supplies labeled, thanks to Mabel's labels. Got the ones where you can write in your own name from Walmart.

This quote has made me think that if any of my 3 are upset, or acting out. Just to hug and love them more. 

Meeting at the school

Meeting at B school went awesome! The district is putting in a GLBT program and wanting to learn how to help. Looks like we may be first parents on the comity! 

B will be using the boys washroom, teachers will use male pronouns, and B is in the kindergarten class with a single washroom with option to use the big boys washroom. Teachers are excited to learn and support. 

We will have to write a letter to keep on file incase there is an issue then the kids in B class will get it sent home. Just a little thing they want us to  write up but will only be handed out IF a parent calls the school. 

I feel like this is going to be good year!  I actually have faith in the school. 

Chelsea Manning formerly Bradley

So there is a big uproar the last few days.  A man who worked in the USA government Bradley Manning who is now in jail for leaking information has come out as Transgendered.

Now sometimes it takes awhile. The will to tell. Or maybe Chelsea (new chosen name for her) was told it was wrong. Maybe Chelsea was told it was bad. Maybe Chelsea didn't have family that was accepting. Either way it has come out now. 

I don't follow a lot of politics. Especially USA politics since I'm Canadian, but I hear a bit here and there. My biggest sadness was that the bug news stations like CNN, ABC world news, HLN were referring to Chelsea as he. 

The worst thing for a transgendered person who comes out is to call them the birth sex. It would be like being called the  wrong sex. It would hurt, sting, make you angry. 

For me I see this first hand with B. we are going to get our psych assmessent. B told the Dr that it hurts when teachers call him a girl. When his teachers laugh and call him a girl and don't listen. It hurts his feeling when his friends make fun of him and call him a girl... It hurts so bad that my 5 year old has been hurting himself. My 5 year old has been self abusing. It makes me wonder what Chelsea has gone through all these years. 

And yes. We got our diagnoses. B is transgendered. My TransBoy. We will start kindergarden as a boy and work our way to good mental health and healing. 

I pray that Chelsea can get some counselling and healing too. 

Dear people who don't have a transgendered child....

Today I was flipping through Facebook like I do most mornings. Trying to get some time for me before my bladder makes me get out of bed and face the day, get the kids up, and start the day of stairs from people, questions, and guilt.

But today I ran in to a blog post. It talked to people who don't have a child with disabilities. A lot of it I found relevant to me. I'm going to share with you the parts that touched me and at the end a link to the blog...

What you said: God never gives us more than we can handle.

What we heard: You’re fine. Quit whining.

We’re not fine. Also, it is very dangerous to bring God into conversation with a person whose faith you don’t know intimately (and sometimes even then). We bring God to these conversations by bringing kindness. We bring God by seeing, hearing, and connecting.

What you said: You must be a very special parent for God to give you such a special child.

What we heard: We are fundamentally different. I’m not even going to try to understand you.

When I first heard this, I would imagine God sitting at a school desk with a paper in front of him, just like the worksheets we used to get when we were in elementary school. There would be a list of babies on the left and a list of parents on the right. God would draw a line from the most difficult baby to the strongest parent, then second most difficult to second strongest, etc. In my imagination, a dog (God loves dogs) comes bounding into the misty, ephemeral scene, distracts God, and oops! God sent the wrong baby to those wacky Joneses!

What you said: You are an angel! I could never do what you’re doing.

What we heard: Hey, sounds tough. What a bummer. It’s a good thing you can totally handle it and you don’t need anything from me!

Yes, you could handle it. The alternative is…what? It’s your kid. You handle it. Not with any grace or style (no points for those things, anyhow), but you just do. Ordinary you, ordinary me.

What you said: Every child is a blessing.

What we heard: Suck it up, buttercup!

First, duh! Of course my child is a blessing. I love him like fire. That does not invalidate my pain. In fact, my love is causing my pain because if I didn’t love him, why would I even care?

What you said: Your faith will get your through! Or, God doesn’t bring us to it unless he plans to bring us through it! Or, With God all things are possible!

What we heard: You’re only having trouble because your faith is crappy and weak.

Here’s the deal: my faith did get me through, or rather, God did.I spent long, wakeful nights in the manner that is familiar to millions of people of faith: on my knees, the holy book of my tradition open in front of me, begging God for relief for me and my family and healing for my child. I told God that if we couldn’t have relief and healing, that I would very much like a carbon monoxide leak to take us all quietly in our sleep.

*****FYI this is quotes from a blog I red but makes points on how I feel sometimes.****

What you asked: Did you take medicine while you were pregnant?

What we heard: How did you cause this?

There are dozens of variations of this question, all of them probing for a cause, seeking to lay blame on the feet of that traditional whipping post, dear old mom. When he was a baby, my friends who practiced natural and attachment parenting thought I wasn’t doing natural and attachment parenting hard enough (A baby whose needs are met won’t cry! Pfffffffft. Suck it, Dr. Sears.). My friends who practiced more conventional parenting thought I was spoiling Carter by nursing and carrying him so much. No matter which way I turned, someone assumed it was my fault, as if I wasn’t already trapped in a giant web of self-doubt and recrimination
they are really saying, this would never happen to me. And while I want to reassure you that it probably won’t happen to you, it could. Yes, you. You, who give money to charity and always wear your seatbelt and feed your family organic foods and are a very nice person who never kicked a puppy. I know that it is very, very painful to live in a world of uncertainty and fear because I live on a cliff every minute, but there are no guarantees in this life. We don’t have (will never have) answers to questions like why this child? Why our family? There are no answers to those questions, or at least none to which we have access during this lifetime.

The world is uncertain and sometimes horrible, even here in middle class America where the grocery stores overflow with food and the roads are paved and talk radio churns its way ever forward. Crappy things happen to perfectly ordinary people, and most of the time there is no one and nothing to blame. It’s lousy and it feels horribly unfair; nevertheless, it’s the truth.






And the link for the blog is http://www.nopointsforstyle.com/2013/08/dear-people-who-do-not-have-a-child-with-disabilities.html

Human rights complaint against Daycare

Even though my husband is not wanting me to, im going to push forward with a human rights complaint over the way B is being treated at daycare.
I have had enough and my child deserves better. ANY child that is on the gender spectrum deserves better. Its not right for them to tell me that it will cause mental issues to other children to switch calling B she to he....
If I don't do this forB, then what about the next child? the child who doesn't have as much parent support, or the next child out there where there parents don't know how to navigate the system.
its not fair for a head teacher at this preschool to push there religious values on my child. I chose a secular daycare for a reason.
im just so mad. We have 3 weeks left. 3 more weeks of hell for B.
I just found out that the teachers are making him write out his birth name. Im not happy about that. B came to me this weekend and said that teacher said he will have to use his birth name and he is unhappy about that.
there should be no reason that this teacher is on a power trip that causes my child mental health issues. Hearing that your child is hurting himself because of a teacher SUCKS. It sucks balls!
I just want to make B happy.

I passed

Today as a family we went out to a local farm. U-pick berries, kids play place, and petting farm.

The three kids went straight to the play area. Tractors, slides, and a barn with a big rocking horse that is stuffed. 

Was great to sit and observe kids at play. The girls were going towards the barn and the small slides, while the boys here were climbing and jumping off the giant tractor. Taking the potato sacks to slide faster down the slides, and slinging sand at each other. 

My girls ran off to the slides and barn. My youngest who is almost 4 stood at the top of the slide but refused to go down, preferring the big fuzzy rocking horse in the barn. 

B had fun. Right away running up to the big slide and launching down it. Making friends with another boy roughly his age. I sat and chatted with the other bits mom. We talked about all things boy, and where to get good deals. For the first time I felt like I passed off as a mom of a boy. 

Not only is it important for B emotionally to pass as a boy. But for me to as well. To use male pronouns. To talk about the shows, and most of all when the penis talk comes up. 

Today I did it. I passed as a mother of a boy.