How Many Moms Does She Have?

generic cytotec I recently chaperoned by daughter’s class trip to our school’s working farm – three days and two nights with 28 kids. Our first day there, my daughter asked if I would lead a group of girls to the treehouse during free time and I said that I would. As they all put their shoes one, one girl looked at me and asked, “Who are you?” I said, “I’m Zeca’s mom.” She squinted her eyes and said, “How many moms does she have?”

That’s when I remembered that Luisa had visited Zeca’s classroom a couple of weeks before and understood the confusion.

“She has two moms.”

She nodded and then all the girls dashed out the door without another word and ran across the fields towards the treehouse.

Once there, I helped girls onto the rope swing and offered advice about which tree branches seemed safe to climb. They inched up branches and climbed the rope ladder and shouted at each other from the deck of the treehouse and I watched, content to see my daughter in the wild.

“Where is Zeca’s dad?”

The question came from the same girl. She was straddling a tree branch and obviously grappling with this two mom thing.

“She doesn’t have a dad. She has two moms.”

All the girls became quiet and still.

“Why?”

I was about to answer when one of the other girls shouted, “Because moms are awesome!” Another girl offered a fist pump and a “Yeah!” The other girls murmured agreement. I wasn’t sure if their enthusiastic responses were due to the discomfort of what might be considered by some to be a difficult conversation or if they were so completely and beautifully brainwashed by their liberal parents.

I turned to the girl on the branch, “Because she does. Think of it like a buy one get one free kinda deal.”

The girls giggled and then I used my fake television announcer voice and said, “We have a special on moms! Buy one get one free! BOGO!”

They all exploded in laughter, shaking their heads and saying, “BOGO!”

The girl on the branch, the one with all the questions stared at me blankly and said, “You’re funny. Will you help me get to that next branch?”

And that was that.

The girls went back to playing and I went back to helping them on and off of the rope swing and I felt so damn hopeful about the future that my inner cynic was completely annoyed. The girl’s questions came from a place of curiosity, a need to understand the logistics of our family. I felt no judgement and by the way she stuck to me for the rest of the  trip, I’d say she enjoyed my company. The other girls were eager to show their support for our family and Zeca. Later, as we walked back to the homestead, I marveled at how far we’ve come, how attitudes have changed just in the 12 years I’ve been a parent. Each generation takes us further and that was never clearer to me than on a farm in rural Wisconsin. Can I get another “Awesome!” and a fist pump?

PHOTO CREDIT: VIKKI REICH