After I’ve bounced out of bed this morning in anticipation of the good news (it will be good news, I feel it deep in my waters), I will face into another barrage of questions from my six-year-old daughters.
These questions are coming at me at a pace now and I don’t know how to handle some of them. At least with “why is the sky blue?” you can google the answer and at least with “why do you always wear black?” you can pull your green dress and your pink cardigan out of the wardrobe and at least with “why is it aubergine Parmigiana for dinner again?” you can get them to repeat it out loud several times in front of other parents and feel completely smug.
But the really tricky ones come before bedtime, when tired vulnerable eyes are seeking ways to stay open and troublesome, unfathomable questions float to the surface. She wants to know about babies. How do they get in there? How do they get out of there? Whether it has to happen or whether she has a choice? I'm doing an ostrich on it. I've got this feeling that whatever I say next could scar her for life, or confuse her, or lead to more questions that I can't answer. I say what any reasonable parent would: "Do you want ice-cream for dinner and dessert tomorrow. What flavour?". I've discovered that the unexpected promise of the forbidden diverts even the most inquisitive mind.
But it won’t divert them forever. And, yes, I suppose that’s a good thing. But I find it all tricky. I’m sure there are some parents who relish this part of parenting. The bit where you get to gently lecture people who know less than you do and who are relying heavily on you for information. Important information (“What does equality mean?” “How did we get inside your tummy?”) and less important information (“What is The Angelus?”).
I find I am uncomfortable with this role. What I instinctively want to do is turn the tables: “Well how do you think the baby gets in there?”. But I know that is just delaying the inevitable. Being the contrary type, when I am not freaking out about the right answers to the wrong questions, I am thinking how glad I am that the answers to these questions, when I eventually figure them out, won’t be as cut and dried as they would have been generations ago.
Helpfully, my colleague Breda O’Brien wrote about this in her column last week. About how there is now a range of books and educational resources to explain to children about, for example, different family units, which can also be a source of tricky questions. These educational resources will be increasingly useful when today’s good news takes hold and same-sex marriages across the land come to be supported and respected by the State.
“Do some people have two daddies and two mummies?” is another question that’s been thrown at me by my daughters. Thankfully, Breda had an answer to this one through research she has done on various websites. The answer is: “Some families have a mum and a dad, and some have two mums and two dads, but what is most important is that a family is a place where there is love” which is an answer I will be stealing for my own personal use.
She also pointed to a children's story book called King and King, which teaches "same-sex marriage as a viable, acceptable way of life within an immediately recognisable narrative form, the fairy tale". I know Breda does not support these materials, but personally, I was very glad to hear about this useful resource.
One daughter, who is very keen on my Yes Equality and Tá Equality badges, came home the other day to tell me about the No posters she’d seen outside her school. “Did you know there are people who want No equality, mum?” she asked. “Why would people want No equality?” At this point, I repeated my parenting mantra, the ballast I cling to when I am all at sea with all of the questions: “Well, everyone is different”.
“I love equality,” she said, licking porridge off her spoon. And I know she doesn’t fully understand, but in that moment I felt the power of parenting and felt less afraid of all the questions to come. The good news today (I hope with all my heart that it is good news) will give us all a chance to talk to our children and to each other about tolerance, respect, diversity, love, family, compassion and kindness. Bring it on.
roisin@irishtimes.com