Or should I say, “Happy parental unit day?” That’s what my daughter calls me.
This is my usual Mother’s Day post. My mom was a 5’2″ head strong dynamo of a person and not one I ever thought would be accepting of having a daughter instead of a son. My only “coming out” moment with her didn’t come until I was well into my twenties and was just honorably discharged from the Army. One night when I was coming home after partying all night with my friends, I came home and found her waiting up for me. I was operating under the power of intoxication and somehow the topic came up (I don’t remember how) and I told her I was a “transvestite.” She didn’t miss a beat and said she would pay for electrode shock therapy to help relieve myself of my “problem.” I quickly told her, I didn’t have a problem and no, she wasn’t paying for anyone to hook me up to a wall socket. Ironically, that turned out to be the only time the subject was ever brought up again. She has since passed on many years ago.
For years, I resented her reaction to my coming out declaration. Then, I began to consider her life as part of the “Greatest Generation.” I realized her offer of help was just that. Help for a perceived problem she thought I had. No more and no less.
When the time came to legally change my name, my daughter and I got together to come up with a name which would be easy for her three kids to respond to. At the same time, I began to think of family names which might work. Finally, I decided to honor my Mom by accepting her name as my middle name.
Perhaps now, she would be more accepting of having a daughter instead of a son.
Happy “Parental Unit Day” to you all!