We’re having coffee with some other lesbian parents, whose baby is a few months younger than E, when R tells them the story about me being mistaken for her mother.
Naturally, they have their own stories to tell. One partner's north American accent has led many people to assume she’s the nanny, over in the UK to earn some cash and enjoy London’s nightlife. Others ask them, as they often ask us, ‘who’s the mother?’ and then the explanations begin.
There are many, many practical advantages to being in a same-sex relationship, from sharing clothes to being able to pretend to be the other person on the phone without having to put on a funny voice. But it does confuse people.
Being in a same-sex relationship and having a baby confuses them even more.
And being two mummies, co-parenting with two daddies, why, that tops the Richter scale of confusion.
I honestly don’t mind people being confused. I’m confused enough myself about what’s going on around me most of the time. And confused is better than hostile any day. But it does lead to some interesting conversations – and long explanations.
D takes E to Jo Jingles every week, work permitting, which leaves both of them in a state of intense excitement for hours afterwards. One week, when D couldn’t make it, R took E instead. ‘Where’s your husband?’ people asked, ‘he and E always have such a good time.’
R is not one to evade an issue, quite the reverse: ‘D’s not my husband. I’ve got a wife and we’re E’s mummies. D’s the sperm donor.’ Silence.
‘Well,’ says the group leader loudly, ‘Isn’t that lovely?’
And, actually, it is.
Naturally, they have their own stories to tell. One partner's north American accent has led many people to assume she’s the nanny, over in the UK to earn some cash and enjoy London’s nightlife. Others ask them, as they often ask us, ‘who’s the mother?’ and then the explanations begin.
There are many, many practical advantages to being in a same-sex relationship, from sharing clothes to being able to pretend to be the other person on the phone without having to put on a funny voice. But it does confuse people.
Being in a same-sex relationship and having a baby confuses them even more.
And being two mummies, co-parenting with two daddies, why, that tops the Richter scale of confusion.
I honestly don’t mind people being confused. I’m confused enough myself about what’s going on around me most of the time. And confused is better than hostile any day. But it does lead to some interesting conversations – and long explanations.
D takes E to Jo Jingles every week, work permitting, which leaves both of them in a state of intense excitement for hours afterwards. One week, when D couldn’t make it, R took E instead. ‘Where’s your husband?’ people asked, ‘he and E always have such a good time.’
R is not one to evade an issue, quite the reverse: ‘D’s not my husband. I’ve got a wife and we’re E’s mummies. D’s the sperm donor.’ Silence.
‘Well,’ says the group leader loudly, ‘Isn’t that lovely?’
And, actually, it is.
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