Mommy Man Day!

releasedayIt was January, 2013 when my agent emailed to tell me we had an offer on my manuscript. It was two and a half years earlier that I first started writing it, and I guess you could say 41 1/2 years before that when I first started living it.

And tomorrow, my book officially comes out.

I know this might not mean quite as much to anyone who’s not me (i.e., you), but I’m pretty excited… and nervous… and incredibly grateful.

For the last few years, I’ve been blogging here and asking you to subscribe, like me, follow me, reblog me, share my posts and comment, and I’ve been overwhelmed by how many of you have done just that. You helped me get jobs at Lifetime Moms and even a big-shot on-air job at HLN. You brought me to the attention of Mom superbloggers like Scary Mommy and Baby Sideburns, who reposted me and brought me even more followers and who were then kind enough to blurb my book. You helped me get featured on “The Today Show” and on “Huffington Post Live”. You helped me get named one of Babble’s Top 10 Humor Blogs for 2013. I’ve made friends through this site, both on Facebook and in real life.

Most importantly, you helped me sell my book.

Honestly, it wouldn’t have happened without all of your support. And I’m not just saying that. Publishers want someone with an online platform and lots of followers who will help them spread the word about their book, and that’s you. Confession time: That’s mostly why I started this blog, to impress publishers, but (cue sappy music) it’s become much more to me along the way than just a promotional tool.

I’ve appreciated all your thoughtful and hilarious responses to things I’ve written. I’ve loved hearing from other non-traditional families, from young LGBTQ people who found some hope here that they might have their own family someday, from fellow dads and moms who’ve related to something I’ve been through with my kids and from people who just got a good laugh out of something I wrote. You encouraged me as a writer and as a dad, and you helped me find my voice.

There’s a reason I start my book off talking about what it was like being in the closet as a teenager — because that kid I was then would’ve been blown away by reading all the later chapters in the book, by getting a glimpse of all the joy I was yet to experience in life not in spite of the fact that I was different, but because of it.

You know what else would’ve made that kid happy? Seeing photos of complete strangers holding up copies of my book and telling me how excited they were to read it.

“It gets better” doesn’t begin to cover it.

Now, I’m asking for your support one more time. Tomorrow is my book’s official publication day, and I want to make a big splash. The last time we did this, the book went to #1 in its category, and #260 overall! It made Amazon’s Movers and Shakers chart and gained tons of attention. Since then, I’ve gained thousands of new followers, and I know I can do even better.

Here’s what I ask: I’ve been over all the reasons you should buy Mommy Man.” If you have any intention of doing so, don’t put it off indefinitely. PLEASE buy your copy tomorrow, Thursday, May 8 at 12pm EST (or as close to that time as you can). The more people who do so, the bigger the impact the book will make, and the bigger the impact, the more potential the book will have from there.

If you’ve already bought “Mommy Man,” thank you. Hopefully, you laughed your ass off and cried your eyes out in all the right spots, and if so, I’d love your help, too. Write a review on Amazon, Barnes & NobleGoodReads or [insert your favorite site here]. Tell your friends about it on Facebook, Twitter and [insert your favorite social network here]. Share this post, or share one of my old posts that you really liked. Upload a selfie of you holding the book to my Facebook page. Do something else so hip and new that I don’t even know about it yet. Help me make this a super big deal.

I promise I won’t keep pestering you to do this. Tomorrow’s the big day. If you want to help me give my book a launch that will rattle the publishing industry and get it lots of atention, now’s the time.

Lastly, I want to thank everyone for putting up with all this self-promotion. As I said, this is what publishers are looking for. They want to see that you can mobilize your readers when the time comes. And the time has come.

I promise I’ll be back with a regular post next week.

Until then, help me celebrate Mommy Man Day.


A Big Day For Me and Bennett


booksbooksbooksYesterday was a rough day. Bennett had to have surgery, which means we had our hands full… with Sutton. (Parenting note: the healthy kid is always more trouble than the sick kid. Always.) I understand that, at 4 years old, it’s hard to see your twin getting so much attention, almost as hard as it is being a parent and having to hold back from screaming, “Your brother is about to get cut open! Let him have this moment!”

In a lapse of parenting judgment, I ended up promising her a toy if she could chill out. On the plus side, she chilled out. Mostly. Eh, I’ll buy her a crappy toy. I didn’t promise anything nice.

I’ve been saying for a while now that potty training is the hardest thing I’ve had to do as a parent. Well, after yesterday, I’m going to give the #2 slot to watching my little boy get knocked out by gas in an operating room, assuring him that everything would be fine and that Other Daddy and I would both be there when he woke up.

He handled it like a champ, drifting off to sleep calmly as he stared trustingly into our eyes, with very little idea of what was actually about to happen. It’s always the really hard moments as a parent that also remind me why I love having kids so much. Bennett couldn’t quite understand what was happening, but because his dads were with him, he felt safe.

The surgery went great. He was up and wolfing down ice pops in no time, and by the end of the day, we were out of the hospital, celebrating at McDonald’s, where Bennett ate more food than I’ve ever seen him eat in one sitting in his life.

When we got home, there were balloons and flowers at the door, and a giant cardboard box.

A box full of books.

“Do you guys know what this is?” I asked the kids.

“It’s your book!” Bennett cheered.

It was, in fact, a lot of my books.

It was just like you always dream it will be as a writer. You cut open a box and all you see are copies of your own book staring back at you. I’m not sure exactly how many copies were in there. However many I was contractually obligated to receive, I guess, but  I haven’t counted. It feels like a million. Like a bottomless box of books. And all I can think is, “What am I going to do with all these books?” Am I supposed to read them all? Pass them out to strangers? Are they just going to sit in my basement like this, a big box of books, always kept in pristine condition, their bindings never cracked?

Then, I had another thought: I should order more.

At the same time, I started getting emails from friends. Amazon had notified people who preordered that the books arrived early and would be shipped out in the next few days. Soon, lots of people will have my book.

The timing couldn’t have been better. After a long, draining day, we had something else to celebrate.

And of course, as the spotlight shifted to me, Sutton was ridiculously jealous once again.


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Yes! Books are coming soon! Don’t forget to order yours! Or better yet, join in my Amazing Chart Twerk 2, which is still set for the official release day of May 8.

My Little Imagineers (For the Record, I Prefer Bennett’s Ride)

TowerOfTerrorBennett: “Daddy, when I grow up, I’m going to build a ride for Disney World.”

Me: “That’s great. What kind of ride?”

Bennett: “It’ll be for babies.”

Me: “Good idea. They don’t have a lot of rides for babies. And what will it be?”

Bennett: “A Tower of Terror.”

Me: “Hmm… OK. Well, what are you going to call it?”

Bennett: “The Baby Tower of Terror.”

Me: “How is it going to be different from the regular Tower of Terror?”

Bennett: “It’s not.”

Me: “It’ll be just as tall?”

Bennett: “Yup!”

Me: “And just as dark?”

Bennett: “Yup!”

Me: “Don’t you think babies will be scared?”

Bennett: “Nope, because it’s for babies.”

minniemouseSutton: “I’m going to make a ride called Minnie’s Fashion Bow Ride.”

Me: “What happens in your ride?”

Sutton: “You ride in a bow and you see all of Minnie’s bows and beautiful dresses.”

Me: “How long does this ride last?”

Sutton: “15 or 20 hours.”

Our Disney Visit, in Pictures

FamilySelfieThe response to my Disney post has really blown me away. I’ve heard from so many cast members, many of whom have shared my post and all of whom have been astonishingly nice and complimentary. There have even been a few who remember my family from our trip! It’s never fun to come back from vacation, but all of you helped keep the magic going for a few more days, so thanks.

To everyone who read the post, I want to say a couple of things. One, many people wanted to make sure I know that Disney treats everyone as well as they treated my family. It’s their goal to make us all feel special. That couldn’t make me happier. I’d love to think that everyone who goes to Disney World has as wonderful a vacation as we did.

Two, the Fairy Godmother I wrote about is apparently well-known for being extra awesome. That makes me happy, too, because she definitely deserves the recognition. If you go to Orlando, make sure you pay her a visit.

Since people seemed to connect so well with that post, I figured I’d share a few more photos and anecdotes from our trip. Some of them have already appeared on my Facebook page, but I think they’re worth reposting here. Continue reading


Just a Couple of Gay Dads at Disney World

snowwhite2Last week, I did something I never thought I’d do. I went to Disney World as a dad.

The last time I’d been there, I was pretty much still a kid myself — 20 years old and just coming to terms with being gay. Everywhere I looked in Orlando, I saw dads. They were buckling their kids into the Dumbo ride and hoisting them onto their shoulders to watch the Main Street Electrical Parade. They all had big smiles on their faces, and they all had wives.

With that visit, Disney World became Exhibit A of what I was sacrificing by coming out of the closet.

Or so I thought.

I’ve written a whole book about how I got from that point to fatherhood, and I’m happy to say that twenty years in the future, life looks a lot better than I ever expected it would. As soon as Drew and I felt the kids were old enough to appreciate a Disney vacation, we booked our trip.

I had just a tinge of nerves as the four of us headed for the airport. We’re never more visible as a family than when we travel. Nothing says “We file taxes jointly” as clearly as sharing a Lion King suite in a Disney hotel. And I doubt any place in America draws such a cross-section of Americans as Orlando. I was sure we’d bump into some people who wouldn’t find our family… let’s say, family-friendly.

We’d barely stepped through the front door of our hotel when an eager employee — er, I mean cast member — strolled up to us and asked if we needed to check in.

“Well, I was told I’d get a text when our room was ready, and it hasn’t come yet,” I told him.

“Hmmm, let me see,” he said. He took down my name and disappeared behind the check-in desk.

A minute later, he was back. “You haven’t been assigned a room yet, but I’m going to talk to my manager and get that taken care of right away! Just sit tight!”

We watched him approach his manager, and Drew whispered to me. “I think we’re getting the family treatment, if you know what I mean.”

Of course I knew what he meant. The cast member who was helping us was gay (“family”) himself, so he was being extra nice to us. Moments later, we were upstairs in a fantastic room on the top floor.

Though I’d planned all our meal reservations months in advance (which you have to do if you want to eat at the good spots), I needed to make a change to one. I was not optimistic I’d be able to get what I wanted, but I picked up our hotel phone and dialed the reservation line.

“So this is for you and… Andrew?” the man on the other end asked, reading my information off his computer.


“And are you celebrating anything today?”

“Well, it’s our anniversary, actually.” (We hadn’t specifically planned to be at Disney World for the occasion, but a lot of big life events seem to end up happening on the same day Drew and I met 11 years ago.)

“Aw!” he said. I realized that once again, we were getting the family treatment. He fixed my reservation and waived the change fee.

It’s then that I realized something that would become even clearer to me throughout our vacation: a LOT of gay people work at Disney World. And as I’ve already learned, gay people love to see gay parents. Thanks to them and all the other wonderful people who work at the Magic Kingdom, I felt completely safe at Disney and never had any second thoughts about whether my family belonged there.

mulansuccessWe spent our vacation like pretty much everyone else. We dined with everyone from Donald Duck to Tigger to Stitch to Sleeping Beauty. We stalked Mulan through Epcot’s China pavilion so the kids could get her autograph, camping out on a tip that she was going to make a surprise appearance. (Success!) We spent roughly half our kids’ college funds on Disney merchandise.

It was awesome.

Instead of feeling self-conscious about our family, we felt… well, special.

As we stood on Main Street waiting for a lunch reservation one day, a cast member approached us in character and said, “You have a beautiful family! The four of you, I love this.” She pointed at each of us, just so we knew for sure that she understood exactly what kind of family we had.

fairygodmotherOur kids felt like celebrities, because everyone from the White Rabbit to Princess Tiana treated them rock stars. They got picked to take part in shows, Mike Wazowski read Bennett’s joke during the Monsters, Inc. show, and the characters at Disney restaurants didn’t want to leave our table. No one was more awesome than Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother. We stood in line one day to get her autograph, and the next day, she spotted us during the park’s opening ceremony. “I remember you guys!” she called out to us. “Come see me later!”

Of course, we did, and she greeted us like old friends. This was a woman who probably spoke to hundreds of families a day, but precisely because we were a little bit different, she remembered us. It made me realize once again that it’s better to stand out than to blend in.

Any fears I had about people reacting negatively to our family were unfounded. As I’ve noted in other posts, the nice people we come into contact with tend to be extra-nice to us, and the homophobes are at least polite enough to stay out of our way.

There’s no way to say this without sounding cheesy or like some Disney shill (which I’m not — no one has paid me for this post!), but the best word I can think of to describe our trip was “magical.”

Becoming a dad was a major life victory for me, but it was hardly the last one. It’s been followed by innumerable others, the most recent of which came last week, when I took my family to Disney World, just like anyone else.

And it was even better than I’d imagined.

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If you’re a regular reader, you may already know to skip the part after the asterisks, because you’ve probably already subscribed to my blog and followed me everywhere else, too — and geez, when’s he going to stop asking? Those of you who are still reading — what are you waiting for? Subscribe, like me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter — and hey, as long as I’m shamelessly groveling, why not mark my book as “to read” on GoodReads? That’d be swell.


So What If My Kids Are Gay?

ourfamilyI forget sometimes what outdated attitudes still linger outside of this nice little gay-friendly bubble in which I spend most of my life. Earlier this week, I recorded a podcast called Dadsaster. The topic was Gay Dads, and I was the gay dad they interviewed. I was a little surprised to discover that after interviewing me, the hosts were set to question a member of the anti-gay Family Research Council, as if “Gay Dads” was a topic that required a pro-and-con debate.

To me, the only thing anyone needs to ask the FRC is, “Why can’t you lay off gay dads, you obsessive creeps?” Maybe that was on their question list. I’m not sure.

What really surprised me was when the hosts, two straight dads — who were very polite and respectful, I should point out — said, “One of the questions people have is, are your kids more likely to be gay because they’re being raised by gay parents?”

It’s a question you hear all the time, which is what’s so maddening about it, because it’s a very easily answered question. Plenty of gays before me have explained very patiently and intelligently that they grew up with straight parents, but they still turned out gay, so why would anyone assume that my kids are going to be gay just because their parents are? That’s exactly the answer I found myself giving, yet I’m sure there are still plenty of people who will willfully choose to ignore that logic.

So now, with two days’ distance from the discussion, I’d like to offer another, more decisive answer to the question of whether my kids are more likely to turn out gay.

So what if they are?

The host prefaced his question by saying, “I don’t think it’s homophobic to suggest this.”


That’s exactly what it is, because the implication behind it is that it’s somehow bad or undesirable if your kids turn out gay. As a kid who turned out gay, I refuse to accept that.

Let’s say, despite all common sense, that gay parents were more likely to raise gay kids. So does that mean we shouldn’t be allowed to have families? Because the world would have — gasp — more gay people as a result? Nevermind that these would be happy, well-adjusted gay people raised by loving families. Just the fact that they were gay would suggest to some people that they weren’t parented properly.

And that’s not a homophobic position?

If we’re ever going to move beyond homophobia, we need to get over the notion that parents can or should steer their children in one direction or the other. We also need to stop making LGBTQ people prove their worth as parents. I initially asked the hosts if I could stick around and ask the FRC representative a few questions of my own. They declined, but when I thought about it, I didn’t really have anything to say to him or her anyway.

Who cares what those people think? They’re not going to stop me from having kids, and I’m damn sure not going to let my kids experience their bigotry as anything other than an amusing sideshow to our perfectly content lives. In a world that increasingly recognizes the anti-gay family brigade for the lunatics they are, they’re just fighting for relevance on whatever podcast or Fox News show will still have them on, so let them spew their hate. I’ll just continue to change the channel.

Before our kids were born, Drew and I speculated a lot about what they would be like. One day, Drew surprised me by saying he hoped they wouldn’t be gay. He was worried life would be harder for them — the same thing many straight parents say when speculating about their kids — and that if we raised a gay kid, it’d somehow lend credence to people’s fears about LGBTQ parents.

I know he doesn’t feel that way anymore, in part because our kids aren’t hypothetical anymore. They’re Bennett and Sutton, and they’re going to be who they are, and our job as parents is to make them happy, not to make them fit some notion of what the Family Research Council thinks kids should be.

Personally, I think it’d be fantastic if my kids were gay. You know what else would be fantastic? If they’re straight. Or bi. Or trans. Or jocks. Or bookworms. Or bookish jocks. Or whoever they happen to be, because whoever they are, Drew and I are going to do everything we can to make sure they’re comfortable with themselves and to let them know that their dads love them precisely because of who they are, not in spite of it.

Are gay parents more likely to raise gay kids? I don’t think so.

Kids who feel loved and supported, though? In a lot of cases, you bet they are.

UPDATE: The Dadsaster podcast is now up. You can listen to it here. It sounds like the FRC rep bailed on them, which is all for the best. In addition to me, they also interview Scout Masterson, one of the Guncles from “Tori & Dean.” It’s a good show. You should check it out.

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Thanks for making it to the end of my rant. If you like it, please share it! And if you haven’t already, please subscribe to this blog, like me on Facebook and follow me on Twitter. And, I don’t know, if you see me on the street, give a friendly wave maybe? That’d be nice.

5 Christmas Secrets I Keep From My Kids

pictured (l-r): Sutton, a complete fraud, Bennett

pictured (l-r): Sutton, a complete fraud, Bennett

Ho ho ho, guys! It’s me! No, not Santa. Daddy! Although, actually, since you mention it…

No, nevermind. Forget I said that. With Christmas coming up so soon, I’m just giddy with anticipation for you-know-who’s arrival. Or should I say “you-think-you-know-who.” Ha, ha, ha!

Sorry, I’m doing it again. Look, it’s best if you don’t read this post, not for a few years, at least. Go watch Dora save Christmas. I have some Yuletide-related secrets I want to talk about, so it’s best if this post — kind of like this post and this one — is just between me and the grown-ups for now.

Ready? Here goes…

Continue reading

5 More Secrets I Keep From My Kids

ShhHey guys. It’s Daddy again. Remember that post I wrote about the 10 biggest secrets I keep from you? Of course not! I only shared that with everyone except you. (Oh, and did we have some good chuckles about it, too!)

Well, it turns out, Daddy’s full of secrets, and since you still can’t read or use the internet, I’m ready to spill a few more. Yes, go on playing Legos. Just grown-ups talking here. Nothing you’d be interested in…

1. None of your friends nap anymore.

naptimeIt’s true. I’ve talked to all their parents, and they’re stunned that Daddy and I are still making you lie down for an hour every day at four years old. Their kids would never do that, they tell me. I usually leave out what a struggle it is to get you to follow through, and how every day I consider putting an end to nap time. But even our constant fighting over the nap is better than a day without naps — and I don’t mean for you.

I always say you have to nap because you get too cranky when you don’t, but the truth is, that doesn’t compare with how cranky it makes me. You may hate your naps, but I really, really like them. You might be ready to give them up, but I’m not. So until you learn the timeless childhood art of pleading, “But Jimmy’s parents don’t make him nap!”, you’re stuck with a daily snooze.

Seriously, kid. Start comparing notes. Jimmy’s got it a lot better than you do. A LOT.

2. Most of your artwork is garbage.

garbageOK, that sounds a bit harsh, but don’t take it too hard. I only mean it literally. As in, that’s where I put most of it. In the trash.

You know that picture you drew just for me, that you worked so hard on, that I swore was a masterpiece I would cherish forever? Well, five seconds after you went to bed, I crumpled it up and buried it deep, deep in the kitchen garbage can so you would never find it.

I know you won’t remember it tomorrow, and frankly, you make me way too many masterpieces, more than I can ever hang on the refrigerator or even store in an archive. I know you were especially proud of that dog dragon you drew me, but frankly, it wasn’t your best work. Sure, I took a picture of it before I dumped old coffee grounds and that half-eaten cup of yogurt on top of it, but don’t expect it to show up as my desktop wallpaper or anything.

Oh, and when we moved, Daddy and I threw away about five garbage bags full of your stuffed animals. You know why you didn’t notice? Because of the ten garbage bags full that we kept. Many of the things you love are garbage to us. I like that you have enough love in your heart to spread out among every crappy plush knickknack you take home from the Everybody Wins booth at the carnival, but the space in your heart is bigger than the space in our house, so some things just have to go.

3. We’re Going to Disney World!!!

You know how you’re constantly asking us if we can go to Disney World, and we respond, “Maybe someday”? Well, guess what, suckers? Someday is coming next February. We made the reservations, booked our flights, requested time off from work, reserved a dinner with Cinderella and even bought those Secret Guide to Disney books so we can make this the most awesome trip of your childhood. If you think we’re telling you about it anytime soon, though, you’re crazy. We planned this trip six months ahead of time.  Do you know how long that is in kid years? Of course not, and that’s the point. But in grown-up years, it’s six months of “Is today the day? Is today the day?”, and Daddy ain’t havin’ that.

Oh, and don’t take this to mean that “maybe someday” is always code for yes. When you ask us for a puppy, “Maybe someday” is our way of ending the conversation. But that one’s a definite no. Not someday, not ever. Sorry.

4. If I ever played a game against you at my full ability, I would whoop your sorry ass.

See anything you need? Oh, come on!

See anything you need? Oh, come on!

You really think you could beat me on a race to the tree and back? I know I’m not Jesse Owens, kid, but seriously, if I ran as fast as I could, I would mop up the front yard with you. The same goes for when we play Zingo, that kiddie version of Bingo you love so much. There are only nine squares on the board, but when Kite comes up, I’ll sit and wait like two whole minutes for you to realize you have Kite in your center square.

Hello! I have two kites on my board, but I’m not going to swipe that tile away from you, because I guess the whole point of this is to get you to learn about image recognition or spatial relationships or something. I don’t know what the point is, but whatever it is, it’s something I already know. I don’t need the validation, so I’m going to let you have it. Let’s just move it along, OK?

Honestly, though, the bigger secret is that sometimes you win fair and square. Want to know how to tell the difference? When I’m smiling, that means I let you win. If you actually earned your victory, you’ll notice me quietly giving you the stink eye.

5. When daddy and I spell things, we’re usually talking about you.

In fact, we’re usually talking about either nap time, Disney World, how I smoked you at Zingo or how soon we can throw something of yours away after you go to bed. I don’t know what we’re going to do when you guys learn to spell, because Daddy and I have really come to rely on our secret code. Maybe we’ll start learning Russian or something.


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Who is Funny, According to Sutton

funnycup“Daddy, some people are funny, and some people are serious. Daddy’s funny.”

“Am I funny?”

“No. You’re serious.”

“Are you funny?”


“Is Bennett funny?”


“So I’m the only serious one?”


“What about your teacher?”

“She’s serious.”

“Oh, good. So it’s not just me.”

“But sometimes she’s funny.”

“Am I funny sometimes?”


“Who else is funny?”

“Um… the cup.”

“The cup is funnier than me?!”

“Can I play with the iPad now?”