Girl Dad Part 1

Having been in a "traditional" relationship for 20 years and having bore many children with my husbands, I have been well accustomed to the very tradition moniker of "Dad".  Now, being from the South (Alabama) to be specific), I had a "Daddy" . . . still do after 41 years.  It's kind of the equivalent of Blanch Devereaux's "Big Daddy" from The Golden Girls.  So, when I entered into this same sex world with my best friend and the "man" of my dreams, you'd expect there might be an issue as to what she should be called.  I visited countless websites and ventured into the world of Baba's and Mom and Mommy and Momma and here is what I know to be certain . . .

MY CHILDREN HAVE ONE MOTHER.  I am it.  I bandage knees, comfort the heartbroken, and cook the most famous southern fried dinners imaginable.  I bake the birthday cakes, wrap the gifts, decorate the house, and make sure that the Christmas cards are sent.  I have no first name . . . not to my children, not to the neighbor's children, not to my children's friends.  I am referred to simply as "Momma" . . . that is all . . . one word.  Better than Madonna or Kei$ha.  I am the Momma of all who enter my life or our home.  So, where did that leave my beautiful, lawn mowing, waste managing, barbequing partner?  Well, leave it to a 4 year old to answer that.

When our daughter, Kirby, was barely 4 years old, she stated matter-of-factly that Christina was GIRL DAD.  Simply put in the words of our youngest, she was the Dad, but a girl.  Somewhere along the last year, the concept has kind of caught on within the household.  Our 16 year old often calls through the house after Christina by simply yelling "Dad, Dad, Dad!" as would any teenager searching out their male parent for gas money or permission to have friends over or help with their car.  When we camped last summer with a myriad of our 16 year old's friends, we found that her male friends in particular were fond of using the term "Dad' in reference to my beloved.  She is there for them when they are tinkering with their sub-woofers, changing their spark plugs, or asking for girl advice.  I just cook the dinners and hug them when they need it (daily).

What I ask of you, dear readers, is this . . . Is there some unwritten rule of the universe somewhere that demands that "Dad" be male?  If, years down the line, we should find ourselves at Disney World with an ice cone covered child running toward her screaming "Dad, Dad, Dad", what is the worst that can come of that?  Will some religious zealot thump my child in the head with their bible?  Will be simply be a sideways glance?  Or, is the world ready for GIRL DAD?'

Girl Dad's Wife