Parenting Jeremy – a gender journey

I delight in my offspring.  Jeremy is a bundle of passions, opinions, sardonic observations and wild exaggerations.  I hesitate to rein him in but sometimes he has to be reminded that accuracy wins more brownie points in interactions with others than global statements.  The current hair colour is blue and the sides of his head received the bare blade of the clippers treatment on Monday.  I love hanging out with him, he said recently that his friends remark on our positive relationship.  Every day joys make life easier.

The term is now into week 8, time has flown for us.  But I noticed last week that J was pouncing on me the minute that I walked through the door.  Jeremy has always wanted to unload at the end of the day but this behaviour was different. Now Jeremy is very sure that schooling from home is the right course for him.  He is certainly very settled and academically all is going well.  But it seemed that he missed the interactions that go with going to school, even though so many of those interactions were stressful.  So on went thinking caps because if J was struggling with isolation during the first term then we had to do something concrete to address that.  Jeremy does have a number of regular social catch ups, so we talked about how important it was to ensure that he could get to those, Taco Tuesday, Friday night bbq’s by the Yarra, We have a plan!

Then, as sometimes happens, a colleague rescued a little black cat and couldn’t keep it.  She was smitten by this little cat and talked about how pretty the cat was and how sweet natured.  It has been 12 years since I dipped my toe into cat ownership, and that last time was disastrous. Yet, Jeremy has longed for another cat.  So I made a quick call to him and then made the decision that we should take this little one in.  She is now known as Salem and her green eyes are as amazing as Jeremy’s grey ones.  They are having so much fun, Salem loves cuddles and pats and curling up next to Jeremy.  She has become more settled and adventurous every day, walking along the back of the couch, peering onto plates to see if there are any treats for cats, and she talks and talks and talks.

Right now, Salem is settled on Jeremy’s knee, they have had a talk about cats on the internet (a subject that Salem showed little interest in), Salem has tried to convince us that chocolate ice cream is a cat treat (she has been told otherwise) my baby is revelling in love and a little rescued cat knows she is the newest princess in our palace.

If every person took responsibility for their words and actions, if every person made a commitment to call bullying, negativity, nasty mean behaviour for what it is then so much intolerance and negativity would be wiped away.  To do this though, you have to be brave, brave enough that when you do name the behaviour and receive the inevitable backlash you can still stand tall, head held high, knowing that what you do is a step towards a better world.

There are times when being brave is easy, when passion stirs you to actions you couldn’t imagine yourself capable of doings.  Times when you come out fangs bared, claws out ready to draw blood, ready to take down the enemy.  This bravery is spurred by adrenaline and isn’t always rational, it is the fierce primal protection of that which you hold dearest.  Then there is another kind of bravery, the kind that makes you get out of bed and face the world when all you want to do is curl up under the covers.  Jeremy demonstrated this kind of bravery over and over last year when facing school.  Then there is the quiet bravery, that stands against injustice, unfairness, discrimination and says no more, then says again no more and won’t go away.  I see women be brave all the time for others, but being brave for yourself is a different less intuitive skill.

I’m not brave, not all the time.  I try, but there are times when bravery fails me.  Or maybe it is better characterised as strength failing me.  I feel like I have been walking in shadows for a long time, sometimes it’s brighter than others, sometimes it’s darker and that’s ok.  I am working towards a more often brighter than not future.  As Jeremy started to generally be brighter, happier, more content I had time with my own thoughts and faced the realisation that I had expended so much energy in parenting and working and running a home that there was no energy, no mental space left for me as an individual.

My mind has dark corners and old wounds that have festered unexamined.  I feel them as a palpable presence like unwanted visitors proclaiming their opinions in loud and insistent voices.  They have been companions for so long I have altered my reality around them.  Jeremy has such a long journey ahead and I see my role as being able to support him through that.  I will need to be resilient and inspiring and wrap a physical and mental blanket around him when needed.  Intuitively I feel I need to shine light into all the dark corners rout out the negative and to heal.  I need time to get to that position of strength, and time thankfully is something we have.  The first steps have been so confronting, leaving me feeling empty, and fragile.  But each time the light is brighter.

Standing on the precipice of transformation is scary,

So we have made it through Christmas and New Year, a visit from beloved grandparents, a time for reflection of the year that has passed and anticipation of the year to come.

In a quiet moment my mum said to me “Jeremy is so much more relaxed, so happy, it is so wonderful to see”.  I didn’t need any other present, well ok I didn’t turn down any other presents that came my way but that comment from my mum was a most precious gift.

Their visit wasn’t all smooth sailing.  My darling dad used “she” in reference to Jeremy about a million times, but in true form when we gently pointed it out he took Jeremy aside, apologised and tried to reverse a habit of nearly 17 years.  What was evident was the love that is in our home and our support for my baby.

In  no small measure this support comes from Jeremy’s boyfriend, Lachlan.  From my memory of young men, most would not have coped with the constant companionship of grandparents.  Lachlan rose to the occasion beautifully, my parents were full of praise.  We as a group also agreed that Lachlan has the patience of a saint because our J can be hard work at times.

So I wanted to acknowledge that Jeremy’s progress, his stability, his confidence has been achieved with a substantial helping of love and support from this lovely young man.   Thank you Lachlan xx

Damn, where is this year heading?

We are here at the end of October, nearly Halloween time.  We are no closer to knowing what Jeremy will do for schooling next year, we are no closer to Jeremy having any level of communication with his father, we are no closer to determining if we will start the process for Jeremy to start hormone treatment. The unknowns keep multiplying and the anxiety that walks hand in hand with the unknown is a constant companion.

Jeremy seems fine.  I suppose I have that to be thankful for, he has placed his trust in me to make it all come together and he trusts that I will.  He needs new binders, and I resent that two undergarments that cost so much were so poorly treated that they didn’t last six months, yet I feel guilty when I see his breasts knowing that he also sees them and he doesn’t want to.  I tell you I have wallowing in mother guilt down to a fine art.

Up at the farm a couple of weekends ago, down in the back paddock I went to see new lambs.  There should have been 22, and five have been lost to foxes, but their birth and survival has been an eyeopener across about six weeks.   Watching a ewe I had said earlier was about to drop, I could only see one and something that looked like a plastic bag.  “Another set of twins” said my beloved.  “There is only one honey”.  I had an arm placed around my shoulders “No, honey, it’s twins, look one is up and one is on the ground, it’s yellow”.

“Go and get get it David, it needs your help”.

My darling gently shared his farming wisdom about baby lambs, when you step in, when you let the mother do what she needs to do and all the variances in-between.  He reassured me that this would be fine, we would keep an eye on the little one and it’s mother, it was far too early to intervene and by intervening too soon we could do more harm than good.  It was a knowledge that he learned from his father, no doubt handed down through generations of sheep farmers, almost an inherent wisdom about letting nature unfold in all it’s splendid and varied glory.

I often pray for that kind of inner peace, that certainty that all things have a path to follow and that the path is good.

Right now I want to howl with the frustration of inaction, the lack of impetus and progress.  I want Jeremy’s school sorted, a plan in place for Jeremy and his father that they will follow and participate in for their own benefit dammit and much more in the way of funding to get to Court to get permission to start Jeremy’s treatment.  I need none of these things.  I need patience and love.  I need patience in far greater abundance that I naturally have.  I am glad that my love is boundless and grows daily as it is reciprocated from my amazing circle of family and friends.  I should use the pronoun “I” far less often.

For in the fullness of time, when people are ready, when Jeremy is ready, all will fall into place.  Regardless of my desire to manage it all, to rush or push certain processes at this point may do more harm than good.  May I have the wisdom to know when the push is needed.