I just need to have a little ramble, here. I'm not sure where it will lead us, or even if it will be coherent, but it's what's running through my head today and I need to dump it all.

Throughout the course of my daughters transition, these last few months, we have encountered more love and acceptance than I ever thought humanly possible in our little red state. So much that I have managed to insulate myself from the ignorance and hate. But on occasion, my friends and acquaintances share their children's reactions to the news or their sadness over mourning their former friend. And sometimes I find that hard. I know they are just trying to connect with me and show us that their families are talking about this issue, working through it, adjusting and moving forward. But sometimes I can't help but think of the phrase "Don't pour your grief inward!"

You know that theory about the circles on grief? Imagine concentric circles surrounding an incident, death or some sort of loss. If you are in the inner circles, closest to the matter, you can pour your grief to any of the outer circles, but none of the outer circles should ever pour their grief inward toward people closer to the matter. That's how this feels sometimes. I'm genuinely sad for your child, but honestly, I don't have any more emotional energy to invest in his/her/their well being. I'm happy that the thing your kid is struggling with isn't my kid's gender identity, but rather the fact that your kid doesn't like C's choice of name. But frankly, I didn't get to name my daughter so I'm not terribly concerned what your daughter thinks of her choice.

Recently C asked if she could have a slumber party to celebrate her birthday. A co-ed slumber party. In light of some of the situation, and some recent experiences, we talked about how not all parents are okay with co-ed slumber parties. I delicately reminded her that some parents may not be comfortable with a slumber party at all, under the circumstances. Telling my child that some people, because of their fears or ignorance, would not want their children to be with her was heartbreaking. I debated whether to lay it out for her or not, but I wanted her to be prepared if her friends couldn't come. As it happened, there were several who were not able to come, so I'm glad I had prepared her for it, because it was still hurtful. Perhaps I'm jaded but their excuses seemed thinly veiled and, while I have to respect their parenting choices, it's so hard to see childhood innocence slip away before it really would naturally.

In the end, a few friends were able to come for the evening and a more friends were able to stay overnight. Success! After a few weeks of feeling knocked about by other people's reactions, having these three kids spend the night was just the antidote. We had a houseful of queer kids. The ones who never got to have sleep overs because other parents are scared of them or just don't understand. The ones who are neither male nor female in the conventional sense. The ones who confuse people. The "others." These kids were able to be their complete, authentic selves at our house. They went by their preferred pronouns and at the same time they just got to be kids. And there was laughter and a ton of happiness.

C confided in me, right after the slumber party success, that she has been struggling with her friends at church as she moves from "male" to "female." No one has been unkind but she's been finding her friendships with the boys more strained and she hasn't yet bonded with the girls in the same way. I spoke to the youth director who subsequently planned a girls' day to help C bond with her female peers, explaining the motivation to the parents. I was overjoyed at the support. But when one girl opted out of the event, it threw me for six. Truly blind sided me. Here's this girl saying that she's uncomfortable with my daughter and doesn't want to spend time helping her adjust. I felt a toddler temper tantrum welling up inside me. I wanted to shout, "Fine! We didn't want you anyway!" I felt almost betrayed. C started with this group of kids at five years old, and while this girl is fairly new, they've been in class together for months. She has known C both before and after she began transitioning and I hadn't heard a thing about this previously. Maybe that's a testament to the girl -- that she just rolled with it. But in a way it almost seems worse that she's been quietly uncomfortable. Or quietly condemning? Or...what? It's just so unfair that someone can just choose not to accept my daughter. Who gives her the right to deny a person's reality? Who gives her the right to be uncomfortable?! I know that seems ridiculous, but it's how I'm feeling and it's ticking me off, to be honest. Maybe I'm just letting it stew too much.

I am fully aware of how fortunate we are. I see other parents struggling with accepting their children and the children longing for acceptance of their true identities. I see religious lectures, hateful family members, terrorizing neighbors. I see all of these things in others' lives and I can only remind myself that the small annoyances I feel are nothing in comparison. We are fortunate to be surrounded by love and, in turn, we are able to provide a loving space for our daughter and her friends. I guess at the end of the day, I'm grateful for the small reminders of the alternatives.