5 MONTHS IN.

This is our update 5 months in on our little hobby farm, I let you know all the things. Like, how we’re settling in? Do the kids like school? How many chickens do you have, what type are they, are there roosters, what do they eat and why are they so cute? Secret Project what now? It's a lot to catch up on. I’ve covered most of it in just less than 5 minutes.

THE SUN. A JOINT. AND A CHICKEN.

This is self care for me. I feel conflicted about sharing this photo. I feel nervous about the backlash or the judgement that will surely come.
Cannabis is 1000% legal here in Canada, but it still has a stigma attached to it in ways alcohol never has. ::ahem systemic racism:: For me, cannabis is medicine.

I felt grateful that my big, beautiful, queer family gets to show all sorts of people a different way to live, and love, and thrive in the world. We get to show all sorts of people that they can be whoever they are and find love.

It shows trans kids, folks, their partners, their parents and their friends that they aren’t alone, they aren’t broken, they can and will be loved, and not just crappy settling for someone kind of love, but the BIG WONDERFUL BADASS KIND OF LOVE!

“TICKLEY TICKLEY ROUND YOUR TUMMY,”

She would whisper in a sing song tone as she traced her fingers across my stomach. The two of us snuggled up on her couch. “We Yike, jeopardy, don’t we Gamma.” the 6 year old version of me would look up at her and smile. “We sure do!” she smiled back, returning to her tickling song. “Tickley, tickley round your tummy, if you laugh you’ll be a mummy.” her long fingers making loop da loops on my belly.

Did you know that approximately only 1 in 3 Americans have a woman for a boss?

That statistic always makes me feel sort of funny.

On the one hand I’m not surprised at all.

Truth is, I haven’t had a boss in close to a decade, self employment for the win, BUT when I did have a boss of one form or another they were mostly dudes.

I love my hands.

They are my fave body part hands down.

Sure, I guess it’s because I can do cool stuff with my hands. I can hold my tiny humans, I can stroke Katherine’s face, I can open doors and bottles and all sorts of crazy things with my opposable thumbs.

“And now what?” I wonder sometimes.

“Is this it? Am I here? Did I do the thing? Am I happy?” I think so.

As happy as most anyway. 

But is happy even really the point? 

Katherine and I had a fight about parenting the other night.

In the bath. Super romantic I know. It was a good one.

My body and I have been at odds for as long as I can remember.

“At odds”. 

That’s a gentle way of putting it. 

As a kid I had chronic pain. And asthma. And this thing where I would wake up in the middle of the night throwing up only to have nothing wrong with me. In the 6th grade I had my legs put in 45 degree angle casts to “fix” my leg…

I knew that telling my kids my truth, about who I am was the only option! That showing the world that it really isn’t that complicated. That when someone tells you their truth you believe them and love them, because their truth has always been there, now you just get to know it.

When do you tell people you don't know well that you're trans? Do you just let them notice on their own that you now have a beard?

This Vitamin T as people in the trans world affectionately call it is a fucking beast.  

An awesome beast don't get me wrong.  Everyday I look in the mirror and am pumped at the changes I see looking back at me but I gotta say guys--  the muscle growth, it's crazy.

I have a moustache now.  

Well sort of.  It's more like dark peach fuzz.  It's slightly embarrassing to look like a teenaged boy.  I'm rocking this 14 going on 32 thing hard.

"You've lived a very full life,"  he says to me, while looking down at my chart and simultaneously peering up over his glasses the way doctors do.  

"I'm very interested," he carries on.

I deflect the awkwardness of the fact that until the age of 31 I've lived my life as a woman by making a joke: "What, not all transmen have birthed 4 kids?"