Catching Up

After a month of fighting some strange bug that began as a sore throat, morphed into serious lack of voice (which, of course, my students loved), then transformed into coughing fits that wouldn't let me catch my breath, I recovered just in time to have my reconstruction surgery on the 18th. (By recovered, I mean stopped coughing enough that my gorgeous plastic surgeon wasn't worried that I'd rip out my stitches--I'm still having trouble breathing normally and get winded really fast, like one flight of stairs fast.)

All of that is my way of explaining why I have failed to keep my goal of posting at least every two weeks.

So, this will be a short, transitional post as I continue to mull on how to edit a topic rolling around in my brain that could easily become a chapter in a book rather than a 500-word blog entry.

Let's talk about my gorgeous plastic surgeon, Dr. G. Last spring we discovered that the lump in my left breast, which we had been monitoring for a couple of years, had metastasized. Given my past history with Hodgkin's Disease and radiation therapy, the likelihood of another tumor beginning in the right breast later on was quite high, so Hubs and I agreed to take the aggressive, preventative measure of a double mastectomy, with immediate reconstruction.

Now, if you've read any of my posts at all, you know I am currently obsessed with Darren Criss (of Glee! fame and People magazines' Sexiest Men issue). Imagine my amazement when Darren's doppelganger walked into the exam room and introduced himself as my plastic surgeon. He's a little bit taller, a little more refined than Darren, but the dark curls, amazing eyes, infectious smile--yup, they are all there. Hubs even has a bit of a man-crush on him. This is a man who can pull off a blue-and-white-striped seersucker suit (I didn't even think they still made them)! At my last appointment he was wearing corduroy pants and a tweed jacket--all perfectly color coordinated.  Sigh.

I remember briefly coming out of the anesthesia after the mastectomy. Dr G. had done the closing because, after the other surgeon removed the breast tissue, he placed the tissue expanders that would prepare the chest for permanent implants later on. I heard his voice before he left the room, then I heard the surgical nurses comment about how "dreamy" he always looked. I swear, they said "dreamy."

You can understand, then, that these doctor appointments are actually bright spots on my calendar. Because of complications and an infection that developed on the left side last spring, I had to have that expander taken out and spent the summer lopsided. Surgery two weeks ago was to put in a new expander and begin the process of stretching muscle to make room for an implant. I can now look forward to seeing Dr. G. every two weeks for a few months, and then again for the surgery to replace the expanders with the permanent implants.

Combine all that with actually seeing Darren Criss on Broadway in 44 days, and 2012 is already shaping up to be a fantastic year.

(Yes, this is a short entry. I might be constitutionally incapable of saying anything in fewer than 500 words.)

Missed Opportunity

One afternoon last spring, I received a flurry of text messages from my sons’ step-mom. Seems a neighborhood girl had found her mom’s Victoria’s Secret catalogue in the mail and was showing it around. B. was one of the boys who looked at it. How step-mom (G.) found out is beyond me, but my ex was out of town and she wanted me to talk to B. about what he had done wrong.

If only she knew the kinds of sex-talks I have had with my boys.

I caught that opportunity to help him be more comfortable with his sexuality. Of course, I asked him about the catalogue, about why he hadn’t told me when he was supposed to, and about what made G. upset. Then I asked him, “Did you think you were doing anything wrong when you looked at it?” He said no, and I agreed.  We discussed why I thought it was perfectly normal for him to want to look at the pictures and that I did not share G’s thinking that he needed to be punished.

Thanks to Glee, (Because, really, you knew it was going to be mentioned somehow, didn’t you?) I’ve had another important opportunity: to discuss homosexuality. We’ve talked about what it means to be homosexual and defined “gay” and “lesbian” because those questions came up as the boys watched some episodes with me. (Their dad and step-mom don’t like the show. Imagine that.) Kurt and Blaine and Santana are characters who are gay. This doesn’t mean the actors are. Once B. had mulled over that idea, he asked about it being weird for a straight actor to play a gay character; specifically, he wondered how Darren-as-Blaine felt about kissing Chris-as-Kurt. While we talked about the difference between acting and reality, we also discussed attraction, and how some people are born to be attracted to the opposite sex, some to the same sex. We even discussed bi-sexuality a little, but by then he had a lot to process.

In a later conversation, we talked about why his grandparents do not feel the same way about homosexuality.

These are the opportunities I seized and believe I handled well. The boys know almost no subject is taboo with me. In fact after my mastectomy last year, B. asked if I still had nipples (although he wasn’t quite as direct).

So, I’ve been doing my best to raise an enlightened, tolerant child comfortable with sexuality.

Then, last weekend, I blew it.

As I was driving the boys home after a weekend with me, they started ranking music artists. They decided that Pink and Kelly Clarkson and Adele were definitely influential; Brittany Spears was yesterday’s news (did I mention they are precocious and funny?). For the male artists, they chose Usher, Eminem, and some others; then, J. mentioned Justin Bieber. J. defended his choice by saying that while he doesn’t like Bieber, as a musician Bieber is important. B. just declared “He’s gay.”

I was in shock. My initial reaction was to ask why B. thought that and to remind him that Beiber dates Selena Gomez (B.’s first celebrity crush). B. told me many kids in his school were saying it; one had even supposedly read it in an interview. I lectured B. about the danger of spreading gossip and saying mean things about people without truth, but then the conversation moved on.

What I should have asked him is “Why does that matter?” By suggesting that calling Justin Beiber “gay” was an insult, I just completely reinforced the notion that homosexuality is bad. I can’t believe I undercut all of my previous lessons. I don’t want him to become one of those kids who mutters “that’s gay” about anything he doesn’t like or with which he doesn’t agree. Sure, this probably won’t destroy all I’ve done, but it makes me aware that I still have a long way to go myself. 

Over-identify Much?

I promise this isn’t going to become an all-Glee all the time blog—but right now the show is on my mind a lot and is often a source of conversation between me and B. (which will be another post about having a dialogue about sex with your 10-year old son). So, if you hate Glee, come back later for another post. If, however, you are interested in figuring out how this middle-class, heterosexual, 40-year old woman over-identifies with a wealthy, homosexual, 17-year old male character, grab a cup of coffee and curl up. This is going to be a long post.

Some background might be in order. Last season Glee introduced Blaine Anderson, the lead vocalist for a competing glee club. He was confident, charismatic, and hot. By the end of the season he had become the romantic interest for Kurt, one of the central original characters. They seemed to be on equal footing, although Kurt is far more outgoing in all aspects of his personality (not just in that he is the more stereotypically gay). On stage Blaine exudes control and commands the spotlight; off stage he seems happy to fade into the background and openly admires Kurt’s individuality. Blaine avoids conflict and tries to please people; Kurt refuses to be cowed by anyone.

(Of course, all that is how I interpret the characters. If you wade into online fandom, you’ll find myriad other views. But this is my blog, so my interpretation.)

This season Blaine transferred from his school to Kurt’s. Now, instead of being the uncontested star of the choir and surrounded by peers who almost idolize him, Blaine is low man in a group filled with competing egos. His attempts to work with others are shot down by a co-captain who feels jealous of Blaine’s talent. Even worse, another group member uses Blaine as a scapegoat for her attempts at sabotaging the group. Blaine has gone from hero to *almost* zero in the show choir hierarchy. From what we’ve seen in the show, Kurt is Blaine’s only friend in the glee club.  

Shift scene to my life six years ago. Shortly after separating from my husband of 11 years, I joined Match.com and met an awesome man. Then I did exactly what one is not supposed to do after a divorce and jumped into another serious relationship. A few months after the divorce was final, I packed up and moved 200 miles to be with this man. (Spoiler: it all works out and we’re married now.) I gave up a good job, a new house, and custody to my children.

At first, it worked wonderfully. My new job was invigorating. I was still teaching high school but now working with juniors and seniors instead of freshmen. My Principal gave me free-reign in revising the curriculum and adding an AP course, finding money for almost any request I made. It was teacher nirvana, and my professional and personal confidence were at all time highs.

Then, a job opened up closer to home (I had been driving 90 miles round trip). Combined with the knowledge that enrollment was falling at my current school, this opportunity seemed too good to pass up, so I decided to interview for and take the new job. Worst decision ever.

The Principal at my new school was practically antagonistic toward change and toward the idea of challenging students. Although I was still working with upperclassmen, these students had slid by their first three years with little effort. They found it hard to believe when they discovered that an assignment done at the last minute was not deserving of an A, or even a C. As in any situation, some relished the opportunity to really learn and be pushed, but most resented the level of my expectations and what it was doing to their G.P.A.s

So, professionally I was beating my head against a brick wall. On top of that, I cut my hair. Short. I can’t explain what this did to my personal confidence, except to say that nothing has made me feel less feminine or attractive—not even my double mastectomy last spring. Like Sampson lost his physical strength when Delilah cut his hair, I lost my sense of sexuality when I cut my hair.

All this threw the balance of power and respect out of whack in my relationship with Hubs. I was completely dependent on him to affirm my worth as a teacher and as a woman. That kind of dependency just isn’t healthy for either party in the relationship.

At this point he began texting and instant-messaging an old flame from college, and I began looking for job openings closer to my kids. We would work things out for a while, but then grow apart again. After six months of this, I told him I was moving out. Best decision ever.

When I reasserted my independence—moving out, dating (younger men)—I restored the balance. Our separation didn’t last long, but we both learned a lot about ourselves and each other and what we needed in a relationship.

Cut back to Glee. I see Kurt as Hubs, possessing an in-your-face je ne sais quoi that draws people to him. I am Blaine, uncomfortable with conflict, outgoing when in my element.

In the most recent episode, after Kurt complimented Blaine’s performance in the school play and said he was proud to be with Blaine, Blaine replied, “I hope so. I want you to be,” with a quiver in his voice that made me ache for him. I don’t want Blaine to need Kurt’s approval so badly. Even more, I don’t want Blaine to doubt that he deserves this approval.

I miss the self-assured Blaine of last season, and I hope the writers bring him back soon. Until they do, I’ll never be totally comfortable with this fictional relationship because I’ll be seeing myself at one of my lowest points and completely over-reacting.