Birthday Gals...

Today is my birthday--Teri's was exactly one week ago; with our birthdays being so close, we get to have a bit of a "birthday season" and the mailbox offers up cards, well-wishes and packages for a good two weeks. While we both tend to be the sort of people who celebrate birthdays, this is just one of the many areas where the differences in our family cultures comes shining through.

Teri's family are fabulous at gift-giving--they are quite attentive when it comes to cards and thoughtful little gift packages (and not just at birthdays either.) In my family, it tends to be more about words--a card, a song, a letter--or an activity; when I was raising my kids, we always focused on them getting to choose activities that they wanted to do on their special day. The blending of two family cultures can be a wonderful process, but it is not without its "speed bumps" (as our friend Gayle calls them.)

I have assured Teri that the lack of cards and gifts from my side of the universe in no way reflects a lack of thought or caring. In fact, the phone call wishing her a "Happy Day" that came from our daughter Lucy on Teri's birthday (and the pending lunch that Lu and her boyfriend are taking us on) are motivated by the same sentiment as those wonderfully wrapped little gifts and cards that come from the East coast. For my part, I am having to learn how to accept the gifts gracefully that come from Teri's family, and to accept them in the spirit they are intended without feeling guilty for my lack of gift-giving savvy!

The reality is that Teri and I are both very blessed and very lucky--at this stage in the game of life, our families are doing such a wonderful job of making us both feel accepted and adjusting to the fact that we are combining our lives. Our kids, sisters, parents, etc. are taking our commitment cue without a bit of obvious hesitation and our birthdays have been just one of the circumstances where we could both "feel the love" radiating from all directions.

Tables & Chairs (and Other Details)

It seems to be all about the details right now in Wedding Planning Land. Now that we have the guest list almost finalized, and the general theme, time, etc. for the celebration day hammered out, we are all about taking inventory and figuring out what we need to borrow, rent, buy, or otherwise acquire.

Today we are off to our third trip to the party rental store (Parties to Go here in Eugene)--this time I think we've figured out how many tables and chairs we need to reserve and we can actually check that task off our list. Our previous trips were to measure, touch and sit in various items with notepad and pen in hand. The thing about making choices about such things is that it means there are a bunch of other things that one DIDN'T choose (and what if, in the end, those are the ones you wish you had?)

Between the two of us, we have different capacity for tending to such details at different times. Sometimes, I am completely focused on counting and recounting and researching--other times, it is Teri who has the focus and patience to pour over ring designs or walk around the garden with a tape measure.

Meanwhile, regular life goes on--there are still jobs to get to (five jobs between the two of us, actually, since we are DEFINITELY part of the "involuntary part-time workers" that the recession hath wrought), daily chores and such to take care of, and pets to feed and walk. Life goes on regardless of when and whether or not we figure out if we are going to have china or disposable dessert plates on August 13th--those are just above-and-beyond details that need attention!

Mom Squared

This past Christmas, our daughter, Lucy, gave us an ornament that she made at a make-your-own-pottery place—it is a glazed red mitten with “Mom2” written across it—I have told people that it is the perfect gift for a scientist to give her “two moms.” The fact is that while Teri and I did not raise children together, we have both been mothers for almost our entire adult lives—both of us became mothers for the first time in our early twenties and all of our children are young adults. How to merge our different versions of family into one all-encompassing family was definitely part of the negotiations we shared while we were dating, and it has been a reality of building a committed life together as well.

We are mothers—even though we are different sorts of mothers, Teri and I—and we have different memories, thoughts and feelings around our evolving motherhood—but we also have some shared sensibilities around it. Our motherhood is woven into who we are in the world and keeping our lives welcoming and open to our children has been a key element to our coming together as a couple.

All of our children are going to be part of our planned ceremony. My youngest and only son, Stuart, is going to walk me “down the aisle” and our four daughters: Ashley, Leah, Lucy and Lilly are all going to be bridesmaids and stand up with us during the ceremony. They were the first ones we told once we decided to get married and their involvement, blessing and input has been incredibly important to us. We couldn’t imagine setting out on our shared life together without them. While they are all embarking on their own lives as independent adults, Teri and I are still determined to combine our two worlds into a family—after all, isn’t that what moms do?

There isn’t a day that goes by that we don’t check in with each other around “the kids”—who has called or emailed or what do we know about what they are each and all up to. We worry, wonder, and reminisce about them and while we are living as “empty nesters” with just our three cats and dog, Lola to fuss over, the door is always open and we are always available to the “kids” too. Of course, they are not always eager or forthcoming with information about THEIR lives which is as it should be at this stage.

We may not have been mothers together while all these kids were growing up, but it definitely feels as though we are mothers together now.

Days to Go...

When we sign on to "The KNOT"-- a popular wedding site we are using to house our wedding info website and where we can get information, look at images of cakes, or any other "wedding" planning dilemma we might face, there is a little pop-up dashboard that shares the following: Kori & Theresa--Wedding Date: August 13, 2011--Days to Go: 191; every day we get to watch the count down. But I cannot help but wonder, the count down to what?

The wedding industry is, of course, an industry. I know full well that when I am fussing about online or pick up a print magazine, there are myriad businesses who want to sell me all sorts of items that no wedding would be without. In fact, I am quite convinced that part of the engine that is driving the move toward marriage equality is fueled by all the businesses who realize that gay people just may save the wedding industry. So, the count down, of course, is toward the wedding day. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for Teri and I, we are thinking in terms of years and decades and NOT just the days or months leading up to our ceremony and celebration.

Teri and I have almost a century of combined living between us--we are aware that we are not going to celebrate a 50th wedding anniversary and both of us have been on the ending side of relationships. Those realities are not stopping us from thinking of our commitment as a life-long one. Somewhere along the line, "40 years" has become our measuring unit--as in, "We need to find rings that we can both wear for the next forty years" or "Are you still going to be wearing that tattered lavender robe forty years from now?"

It would be so much more inspiring to me if when I signed on to our wedding planning site in the morning, it said you have 14,605 days left to go; how much more motivated I would be to spend every one of those days with the woman I love, living as authentically as possible. Our wedding is important to us, but the commitment for life means a heckuva lot more...

Coming Out Again (and Again and Again and Again)

When most non-gay people talk about "coming out," they imagine a one-time-occasion; perhaps when a person tells her parents or has to make an announcement to the entire world that she is "not straight." In reality, unfortunately, we have to come out again and again. While most of us seek an easy-going normality to our lives, instead choosing to live our lives as OUT gays, lesbians, queers, etc. means that we have to be committed to an ongoing and perpetual coming out.

Getting married as two women is just another situation that forces us to have to "come out" on a public level yet again. While it seems an obvious evolution of our committed relationship to us, the rest of the world is neither obviously comfortable, nor do people assume it is ordinary and normal. For Teri and I, going to a formal wear store, choosing where to register for needed items, or even choosing a professional musician means that we have to out ourselves as a same-sex couple and be prepared for whatever responses may come back to us.

A twenty-year-old engaged heterosexual couple can walk into David's Bridal and announce that they are getting married and all the perky salespeople will fall immediately into their gushing roles. When Teri and I walk in and say the same thing, the responses are: "Which of you is the Bride?" If we press it, we may get questions about whether this is a second marriage? are we sisters (a comment we get enough on a regular basis to make me rather crabby)? or will it be a double wedding?

The activist in me is rather tough-skinned and I choose to look at all this wedding outing as a chance for advocacy. I can accept that it is not going to be the same and while it sucks, maybe by our insisting upon participating in a ritual and ceremony that means a lot to both of us, we can help to normalize the opportunities for others. What I cannot do is make it any easier for Teri or control how others react.

We ARE choosing our vendors and "wedding partners" as I like to think of them based on some key criteria: like many LGBTQ people, we seek out "family" owned businesses and vendors first (those owned by other LGBTQ people); we also look for companies that are gay-friendly and sales people that don't bat an eye when we tell them that we are getting married to each other. My favorite response so far has been from the musician I approached about playing for our ceremony--I let him know via email that we were two middle-age women and while we had some idea of what we wanted for our ceremony music, we were still evolving. His response back was "I'd be honored to be a part of your wedding." Now, that's what I'm talking about!

Why I am Fussing About the Cake…

Teri is NOT fussing about the cake. In fact, Teri really hasn’t stressed or fussed over much when it comes to this wedding stuff, except maybe the financial piece. I, however, have made lists and notes and spreadsheets—not to mention visited numerous web sites to compare colors, prices, elements, etc. I have accumulated so much information that I am overwhelmed at the sheer quantity of all the choices and THAT is why I am fussing about the cake.

Okay, that is not entirely true. That might be why I am fussing in general, but the cake fuss is probably a unique sort of fuss. See, I MOSTLY want to make, bake and decorate the cake myself (alright, Teri can help but no one else.) After all, I am a pretty decent baker and I groove on the idea that I “CAN” conceivably create a fabulous, homey and yummy wedding cake in our very own kitchen. There is a tiny part of me that would like to write a multi-thousand-dollar check and let some place fantastic and far more talented than me make our wedding cake but that is NOT going to happen.

I learned recently that the origin of the wedding cake tradition was that the ancient Roman groom would break the barley loaf over his ancient Roman bride’s head and that would symbolize the breaking of the bride’s virginal state and the ultimate dominance of the groom. Why, on earth, then, am I so determined to have the perfect wedding cake and display complete mastery over the process?!

Then, in the 17th century, it became popular to bake something called a Bride’s Pie (I had naughty lesbian visions of what that might actually be, but I was wrong) and it was a sort-of mince pie with a glass ring baked into it. The gal who found the ring would be the next to get married (I think that overall, a broken tooth would not decrease a lady’s chances of getting married in the 17th century.)

Somewhere around the 19th century, the more modern version of wedding cake became popular and it became common tradition that it should 1. Have white frosting to symbolize purity and 2. The bride and groom should cut it together symbolizing their first jointly completed task. With all this hetero and patriarchal symbolism, why in the name of Sappho, am I clinging to visions of the ultimate wedding cake?!

So, for our celebration of a bride and a bride (or a bride and “broom” as I like to call myself)—I have been thinking about what the wedding cake symbolizes to us. First of all, we ARE planning to have pies (Teri is a fantastic pie baker) and cupcakes (because who doesn’t love a handful of cupcake?) too, but it is ME who really wants a wedding cake (“I” who really wants a wedding cake?). I want a delicious confection that comes from our kitchen, baked by us, and overflowing with simple abundance. I want fluffy butter cream frosting and a tumbling cascade of fresh flowers. I want thick rounds of flour and sugar arranged on glistening cake pedestals and I think I want them because what is a real wedding without a cake? I want the negotiations of Teri and I choosing our favorite flavors, collaborating on a look and design that we both love, and having everyone ooh and ahh over how beautiful and delicious it is. Our cake, like our home, our wedding, our family is a symbol of all that is beautiful, delicious and abundant about us!

Welcome to the ride...

I proposed to Teri almost a year ago--it was awkward, egalitarian and something I never really prepared myself to do well. If you ask her, she might even confess to being somewhat disappointed by the lack of romantic pizazz in my approach. It was a big deal to me and all I could think about was having a conversation, not necessarily "getting engaged." After all, we were still getting to know each other, getting used to living together in the same house, and dealing with all sorts of other real life and relationship realities. So, I awkwardly proposed and she eventually said yes. It was NOT a made-for-reality-television moment, but was in no way a reflection of our love, commitment or genuine appreciation of one another.

So, here we are in February, two years into our relationship and less than seven months away from our August 13th wedding date. Things are heating up in the wedding planning department and our relationship has moved out of the gooey, honeymoon stage into something more solid and ordinary (in an amazing way)--we have met each other's families, signed a lease together, opened a joint checking account, and adopted a dog. How much more ordinary can we get?

As Teri and I were gluing little card stock dragonflies to little card stock oval medallions for our escort cards this past weekend, she commented that what she would like to see is less 20-something hetero marriage stories and more stories that reflect our reality. Surely middle-age lesbians are getting married? Surely we can't be the only forty-something lesbian couple with five grown children between us and a moderate income who are taking the plunge and commingling lives?

This is our story...the challenges, joys, love, aggravations, and mundane details that make up a very real life and a very real path to the altar...