There are so many moments, completely unexpected conversations, that happen as a parent. I remember, before becoming a parent, how I worried about trivial things. Would my child be gay just because she is being raised by two gay parents? Nope. When Senia Mae was four she sat both of us down, worried that she was going to break our hearts with her heavy news, and said, Mamas, I'm going to marry a boy. What? That is the news? I thought she was going to admit she shoved a Barbie dress down the toilet. We told her, you love who you love and it doesn't matter if its a girl or a boy, but thanked her for being honest. Inside, I let out a sigh of relief as I crossed worry number one off the list.

The padded thud, thud, thud, thud suddenly stopping without making its way into my bedroom was the first sign that something was askew. I waited a moment, hoping she would change her mind and go back to bed, which I know from five and a half years of experience, was never going to happen. Opening my eye a pinch, I made out solid shadows of furniture in the dark, but the silence was alarming. The hardwood floor felt good on my feet, slightly chilly but relaxing as I slipped on my favorite robe, the waffle woven one from Pottery Barn with the terry cloth liner. Silently I crept out into the hallway to check the status of my daughter. There was no sign of a child except a red doll stroller rolled halfway into the wall in front of the bathroom door. Fortunately, at this age, they always leave clues. Poking my head through the doorway so she couldn't immediately see me, I viewed her pudgy behind balancing solely on one leg, wobbling on the stool in front of the sink. Her right leg bent and balancing in the sink, still covered in the pink pajamas with the white and black penguins, I watched her hand reach deeply into the medicine cabinet. When she turned around smiling with the small metallic tube, I knew her desire had been the Urban Decay lipstick. "Do you know why Mommy puts that up high?" I stun her with my voice, she thought she was being completely silent, but my smile shows her that she is not in trouble. "So little hands wouldn't get into it when I'm not looking." I can't blame her for being so excited about makeup, aren't we all that way on the inside? It was purchased special for her dance recital last year and she's only gotten to try it a couple of times. The instructor suggested Urban Decay because of their cruelty free policy towards animal testing. Even though I probably could have spent $50 less at Walmart, I thought we should get the extra fancy red at Ulta for the recital, not just the cheap stuff. I am aware that this is an attitude that I will probably regret in about ten years. Although having to clean bright red lipstick smeared all over her cheeks is somewhat time consuming, isn't this what having a little girl is all about? The fun of fancy dresses and makeup? I guess so. We'll just call this stage the dawning of a diva and I must admit... I LOVE IT!

What do kids who don't have dads do on Father's Day? Mine is at the beach right now and this afternoon we will spend time with her Grandpa. When she asks why other kids have a Daddy, we just tell her how lucky she is to have two Mommies and that she has Grampy, Grandpa, Uncle Terry, Uncle Paul, Uncle Richie, Uncle John, Uncle Bubba, Uncle Joe, and Uncle Ben to help us fill in that special place. Most days she is completely unaffected, perfectly well balanced and centered, but some days it hits her a little differently. About a month ago we were having our morning discussion in the hot tub as she stole sips of coffee from my mug. These kind of mornings we have deep conversations, not one typical of having with a five year old. It started like this.

Some of our deepest conversations happen while floating face up in the hot tub. Senia Mae and I ponder life's philosophical questions, some of which I have the answer to and some that I don't. Yesterday, completely out of the blue, her question was, "Who made Jesus?" "God made Jesus," I said. "And who made God?" Senia Mae asked. "I don't think anybody made God, he just is. God is the father to all of us." I said without much consideration. Senia Mae thought about my answer, her inner brain circuits rapidly firing away. "Oh," she said as she smiled back at me, "then I DO have a father." I exhaled slowly, aware that my second biggest worry, "how are you going to explain that she has no father?" was being brought to the surface.

A few years back, during the dreadful days of potty training, a simple sticker chart was taped on the glass of our white bathroom cabinet. I was always astonished to see how much confidence and pride Senia Mae gained when she knew did good, with something as normal as going tinkle in the potty. After she was done she would turn down its lid and sit on the potty like a stool, staring at her chart with the big Dora the Explorer stickers, so pleased with herself. "I did it," she would squeal as she took me by the hand, leading me into the bathroom to show me her accomplishments.