My mom: Someone told me you wrote a blog that said you thought Evan was gay because he liked watching a scene of two men kissing over and over.
Her tone was serious and slightly “parent.” I looked over at her to make sure she wasn’t joking. She can play straight but not as good as that. Nope. She was serious. So my first thought was “what the f-?”
Me: What the hell? I’ve never written a post on Evan’s sexuality. He’s too young to have sexuality.
My mom: (same tone) That was what I was told.
My mind raced through the list of people who know about my blog and me and would talk to my mother. And none of them would say something like that.
Me: I don’t know what to tell you, Mom. I’ve never written anything like that. Whoever told you that was mistaken*?
*Mistaken as in they are lying, and I want to know who it is because the way you just said that they are trying to make it out that I’m a bad mom and my kid is a freak, and no one has the right to judge my kid.
The moment passed, and my mom left the room as I continued to search for paper to write the grocery list on. I entered the kitchen a few minutes later.
My mom: Your Cousin’s Wife said you posted a blog post about Evan being gay on Facebook.
Again. What the F-?
I keep the blog separate from my Facebook account. Very separate.
Think. Think. Think. Th- OH!
Me: No. A couple of weeks ago I read an article on Facebook where a father (and I could be wrong, it could be the mother) talked about his son watching Glee and identified with the gay character and liked the love scenes. The father joked that if the boy turned out to be gay and made a dramatic reveal, the father and mother could brush it off and tell the boy they’ve known for years. The main point of the article was that it was great that shows and movies portrayed healthy loving relationships of all kinds. But no, I didn’t write it. I just “liked” it. Does that show up on the news feed?
My mom: Yes, I think it does. Why would she think you wrote it? She showed it to your Cousin, and he read it. He told us yesterday when he was here.
Me: There’s no way she could believe I wrote it. When you like or share something, it shows the original author. She deliberately misinterpreted it.
My mom: Why would she do that?
I could feel my mom’s anger rising.
Me: Because she has self-esteem issues and she needs to put other people down to make herself feel better. In her eyes and my Cousin’s eyes, I’m a bad mom because I let my son watch men kissing. I’m a bad mom because I would “allow” my son to be gay.
My mom: Why would they think Evan is gay?
Me: Because he’s not “macho” like their boys. He doesn’t watch professional wrestling. Not that I would let him. He’s not big on sports. He cares about what he likes to wear.
My mom: Like your brother. Like the ex.
Me: Exactly. Evan is not what they define as a classical boy. And really, I couldn’t care less. Evan is who Evan is. I just don’t want any one projecting this crap on him. AND even if he was gay, or if any of my boys were gay, it wouldn’t matter. I would love and support them no matter what.
My mom: I just don’t know why they are telling these lies. Your Sister In Law told your Cousin he was wrong and that she has never read anything like that on your blog. That it didn’t even sound like you.
Oh good. My Cousin told The Face and my SIL. So which means they’re telling everyone in the family. That is awesome. Easter is going to be a blast.
My mom: I just don’t understand why she would think you wrote this. Or why you’re a bad mom.
Me: Because they want to. Remember the Cousin thought I was gay because I didn’t run straight into the arms of another man after my separation. As though every woman needs a man to be whole. Consider the source, Mom. These are crappy people trying to be white trash and taking their boys with them.
My mom: You should unfriend her.
Me: That is an awesome idea. I’ve wanted to for weeks. I’m sick of the “Like if you have the best kids in the world” or “Like if you love your kids” or “Like if your husband is your soul mate.” God, it’s annoying crap. Not to mention the ignorant “I hate Obama” crap and the “You can have my gun when you pry it from my dead cold hands” crap.
I watched my mom’s face. She was calculating the damage to my reputation and what needed to be done with damage control. She was hosting Easter. She would be calling every family member. She would put a stop to it.
Me: Mom. I don’t care if they think I’m a bad mom. I know I’m not. Hell, I know I’m a better parent than they are. They just can’t wrap their minds around not spanking your kid and being ok if your kid decides to wear nail polish. I don’t rule my children with an iron fist. The only thing I care is that no one judges Evan.
I hugged my mom. Speaking of kids, I decided to make sure mine weren’t causing trouble somewhere. I started walking out the door.
Me: And Mom, I would never watch Glee.