How can my kid be this old? I'm only 29 - okay 39 - okay older

How can our kid be this old? I mean it was only yesterday that she was her baby's age! After all, I'm only 29 - 39 - 49 - okay, I'm older than that; in fact, I'm older than dirt almost, but that doesn't make it fair that my kid is 37. She'll be getting grey hair soon, and that'll make me (look) older still, won't it? I mean I know it's too late for me. My hair took after my great grandmother on my mother's side and turned grey when I was 40. I like to say it was working for newspapers that turned my hair grey, and I am sure that it was certainly a contributing factor, but - - - .

I don't think it's fair that I've been coloring my hair for more years than my daughter has been alive. After all, my mother hardly had grey hair when she died at 80. I know I put of few of those hairs on her head, and my sister put way more up there than I did. After all, she was a hippie back in the days when that wasn't nostalgic! Come to think of it, she put several grey hairs on my head too. Every time she got herself in trouble out protesting heaven-knows-what she would call me to come bail her out. I do mean Bail, as in pay money to guarantee she'd show up with all the other San Francisco flower children on her court date. These days being a hippie is considered quaint. It wasn't quaint when I was driving from Fresno to S.F. in the fog at 3 a.m.

I'll admit that my kid put a few grey hairs on my head too, especially in her teen age years, and oh, those college years . . . But, she turned out to be one special person. I hope everyone can have at least one kid like she has been. She was a joy as a baby, as a kid, mostly-a-joy as a teen, certainly a joy again as a young adult, and now, as a mother, she tops everything else. I'm so proud of her. She's working, keeping a house up with a nice husband, and raising a beautiful little girl that will give her some grey hair too, no doubt.

You know what? I think I've earned the grey hairs I have. So, I think I may just let the ole hair do its thing. Oh, I'll still color some of it, so I don't look too bad, maybe I'll weave in a bit of light blonde as it changes to full on grey. Anyway, I think I'll make it a New Year resolution to let it go natural. Maybe I'll like it. Maybe not - but until I try, I'll never know. So, here's to a great 08 - and grey hair.

Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual, and Blog Block

Okay, I admit it - I've got Blog Block.

I've been sitting here, trying the think of a good subject for my blog tonight. How about: Why the heck am I blogging anyway?

I thought, and I thought. And then, slowly, I began to realize my life is different because Angela is my spouse, and Angela is a Transsexual, and we're still married - happily married.

I'm blogging to share how living with a Transsexual/T/TS/ or Transgendered/TG person is wonderful.

So, for today, one of The Best Things About Married to a Transsexual is: it cured my Blog Block.

You can read someone else's opionion in a S. F. Chronicle article about us. Here's the link:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/12/09/CMTUT436A.DTL

Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual

You see, being married to a Trans is a little different than being married to other folks because before transition they are two different people - one that's their external self and one that is being suppressed. The one that is being held down is the one they really need to be. When they are holding down their "real" personality, it leads to many bad things such as depression, anger, isolation and controlling behavior. Once they've made the transition their real self becomes fully integrated with all their memories intact, although viewed through a whole new filter. They don't have to hide their true selves anymore. That frees them of all those bad behaviors - and their family and friends get to see all sorts of "Firsts" and "Bests."

One of The Best Things about Being Married to a Transsexual was watching and seeing the Best of Angela this week. I sat back this year and really watched how she was enjoying the holiday. She was so much fun right from the start. I already mentioned her happily getting down decorations and helping to put them up, but it was so much more than that. It was shopping for gifts and wrapping them together and standing in line chatting at the post office as we mailed off cards and packages. It was being aware of how excited she was about having the family here, and listening to her guess what the baby would do with her new toys. It was seeing her laugh over goofy presents and making funny faces with the baby. It was hearing her gay conversation as we fixed dinner with four people maneuvering around the kitchen. It was having a snowball fight with christmas wrap as we cleaned up after everyone left.

So, my "Best Things" was seeing how delightfully wonderful all the changes have come together since her transition.

SF Chronicle article about us:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/12/09/CMTUT436A.DTL

It's the getting ready that's the problem

Getting ready - isn't that always the bane of women? We always seem to take longer getting ourselves ready than the guys (Naturally!), getting anything else ready also takes longer than one plans (Damn!) to load up the RV, there's always something missing (Dang it!), it usually takes a trip to the store (of course!), and something is always forgotten or left behind (Righto! and Darn!)

Yesterday, and today, I'm still getting ready for a Christmas party that's tonight. It's not even here; it's at a friend's place. But, today we're also getting ready for a trip in the RV. That was supposed to take about 2 hours - it took more - lots more. So, now it's nearly time to leave for the party and RV is finally done. We're leaving first thing in the a.m. for the RV trip, so my part of the RV has to be done before I leave for the party. Now, another of the Best Things about being Married to a Transsexual is Angela understands all this. She's my back up. She always double checks the list and catches almost everything I forget. One time we forgot the doggies' bed. Another time it was our sandwich bread. Of course, all these things can be overcome with a stop at a store or a bit of improvising. Good thing, huh?! So, now, the RV is ready to go, and I'm finally ready to leave for my party.

The last minute things I barely remembered to add: the cards for the gifts, the script for my "silliness" part of the dinner, my thumb drive for the RV computer, dish towels, and make up remover. She caught all of it.

So why am I still here, doing a blog? I'm not - I'm gone - goodbye. I'll be back to do the next entry on Wednesday. After that, I'll learn how to do this long distance.

Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual or I Always Wanted A Wife

I've noted several Best Things about being married to a T, but having a wife has got to be the best of all the bests. Angela pitches in as only a wife does. Yeah, guys pitch in for their friends, and sometimes they even help out around the house, but it's not the same as having a wife. Angela went from only doing the Grillin' on the Barby thing to doing whole meals while I worked - every day. She also cooked for company, and she did that more often than I did. Now that I've retired, we tend to switch off more often than not, but that's okay too. Another huge difference is the atmosphere in the kitchen. You know how it is when a guy is waiting for dinner to get done? Well, we don't have any of that. Angela and I actually have fun together in the kitchen. We are often purposefully bumping into one another so we can steal a kiss. We bump butts too although we are careful to note if one of us is cutting something first. We actually spend a good bit of time laughing when we are in the preparing a meal or cooking, and trust me, that never happened before. I usually make the salad now, and Angela usually cleans up after dinner. Otherwise, we pretty much share duties. I do the BBQ stuff as often as she does, and sometimes she has something she's watching on the coals while I tend to the veggies. So, we both have a wife, and that's a good thing, don't you think? What makes it a Best is that Angela also still knows how to do all the guy things. Our holiday lights are on timers, the oil in the car gets changed on time, tire pressure is checked regularly, and she knows how to talk to a mechanic about anything. So, I have the best of all worlds.

Here's the link to the SF Chronicle article:

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/12/09/CMTUT436A.DTL

Best Things About Being Married To A Transsexual or Red Letter Day x Three

Today is a Red Letter Day.
Three special things happened:
First, we were in the San Francisco Paper in the magazine's On The Couch Feature. I haven't set up links yet, but I will. Meanwhile, go to:
www.sfgate.com
search for Pettit

Next, our granddaughter, Brooke, ate her first solid meal toady. It was only a tablespoon of rice cereal, but that's pretty special in our book. Angela was right there with me, taping the event. I don't know who was the proudest, Brooke's parents or us.

Last, Angela spent the better part of this evening helping to decorate our daughter and son-in-law's tree. Now, that may not seem like much at first glance, but when Angela was David, you could hardly get him in the same room with a tree, much less get him to help decorate one. Angela, on the other hand, already helped deck our home and tree, and now she's pitching in at the daughter's place too. Who'd have thought it? Not me, that's for sure. Not only that, but she spent yesterday's shopping from 9 a.m. until 4:30 p.m. with us - daughter, granddaughter, and me. That was an added bonus.

Most important: None of the above would have been so happily shared without the transition. So, which was the best thing about today? Having Angela at my side, for all three Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual!

Size 8! Celebrate the small victories.

What's it like to be a size eight again, after being a 16 for 5 years? It's wonderful - and it's scary. It's wonderful because it means I'm reaching a goal I set out to reach - the goal is still a size 6, but I'm getting there. It's scary because when one 's behind finally fits comfortably into a size one is proud to wear, it says 'I'm committed to not gaining it back." Okay, I cheated initially - I had help: I used Nutri-system instead of counting calories and exercising. It worked though, and I'm a walking advertisement for them to anyone who asks. Now, I am trying to do it on my own, and that is a LOT harder. The holidays aren't helping. Understatement, huh? The holidays make it harder because it's difficult to say "No," to the fattening lunch out when one's shopping. It's harder to say "No," when all your friends are trying the latest dessert sensation when you meet for a holiday brunch. It's nearly impossible to say "No," at a party. Oh, I can stay out of the hors-d'ouvres, and I can stay away from the all-you-can-eat-buffet line, but when it's served on your plate, at a sit down dinner, with dessert staring at you all the way through the meal - that's tough. But, if you keep that size 6 in mind, and if you remember how good it felt to put your hiney into that size 8 even, it's a lot easier. In short, celebrate the small victories.

A Rose by Any Other Name

I got a rose today. My lovely transsexual wife, Angela, who used to be my husband, David, delivered it. It was 4 p.m., and she was coming in from working in her shop (that's another story for another day). I was feeding the baby when Angela approached with a large grin on her face and her arm behind her back. I was expecting to see an "ouchie," because she is always turning up with minor injuries from doing something she should have asked for help to accomplish. Instead, she brought her hand around and put a rose on my knee. "I brought you a blood red rose," she said. "Red for my heart's love of you." She's a sweetheart, that's for sure, and I'm sure glad she made the switch from he to she. Just like the Grinch, her heart grew many sizes as she became a woman. The rose is probably the last rose we'll have this winter. It's in a bowl on the kitchen bar now, so we can enjoy it together for the next few days. It's beautiful, but no less so than she is. Not bad for a couple that have been married forty-one years (and counting).

A Package of Time

I need Christmas to come with a package of time. I've become used to convenience packaging, and I'd like Christmas to come with a bit more ease. It's hectic, it's franic, and it too crammed together. No, that is not a plea for the holiday season to start earlier! Heck, most of the stores have Xmas stuff up about the time they put out Halloween costumes and decor. No, I just need longer hours. It's the decorating, entertaining, holiday cards, shopping, wrapping, and mailing that deserve more of my time and devoted interest. I also want more time to enjoy each of those things. Every time I begin a project for the holidays I feel rushed; I feel like it all needs to be finished right now, today, as quickly as possible. While I do each item, I enjoy it, but that pressure to rush, to get it off my To Do List, seems to interfere with that enjoyment. I can sit and stare at my Christmas tree for hours, but there never seems to even be one hour when I can enjoy the light show. I don't seem to have the time to watch the play of the lights on the ornaments and on the icicles. I'm too worried about the ones that have fallen, or a package that needs wrapping, or one that needs to be rearrange. I never seem to have the time to think long and lovingly of all the good times I spent with the folks I correspond with at Christmastime. I remember them briefly with a sigh that our friendship has come down to an annual exchange of cards with short notes. It doesn't mean I treasure them less, it only means that time has gotten compressed into those few days of holiday time. Occasionally, I get to reconnect with a long time friend to make new memories to treasure. But, those times are fewer and farther between as our families grow and our time gets shorter. I love prettily wrapped gift packages, too, but gift bags have become so much easier, haven't they? They don't stack worth a darn under the tree though, do they? They're hard to arrange under the branches, and the handles make them difficult to maneuver. Entertaining takes 8 hours to arrange, 4 hours of visiting, half of which one is tending to cooking or other duties, and 4 hours of clean up. Is it worth it, absolutely, but it makes the actual gathering seem all the more rushed and compressed. Where did those leisurely meetings with friends we had when we were kids go? Where did the afternoons at play, the slumberparties, the hours at the movies, and then dinner and maybe then hanging-out afterwards fade into the netherworld of meetings and must-dos? I don't know. I want it all back - all that time I used to have. I want those times with friends back, in more than treasured memories. I want to dawddle in front of my tree with a good book and my feet warming by the fireplace. I want to eagerly await Santa, and I want to tear into my gifts with the abandon of a child again. I want time back. I want it back for all of us. I want it packaged for convenience so there is more time for remembering, for seeing, for doing, and most important, for being together with those we most care about - our families, our friends, and ourselves at leisure. So, to all you inventors out there - come up with a holiday package of time, please. I'll be first in line to buy.

Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual

One of the Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual is she's the primary babysitter for our granddaughter. You see, David wasn't around much when our daughter was a baby. She was fighting in the Vietnam War, as a Captain in the USAF. He did get home, barely, in time for the birth, but he was right back flying missions three weeks later. So, now, as Angela, she gets to do the mommy things she missed. Every step forward that B makes is also a new experience for Angela. B is a tad over 4 months now and making great strides almost daily. She's sitting up and manipulating toys. They mostly go right into the mouth. We've gone through that cuddly eat/sleep cycle when you could get all your projects done, so now we're firmly into the keep-me-entertained stage. She doesn't go long without wanting a change of activity. She loves our fish tank, being outside (although not in the stroller yet - darn), playing in front of a mirror and just babbling at us as we play with her. David was a good father when he was home, but she's an even better Grammie. First off, she's always here. I'm the one that gads about most days for meeting friends, shopping and going to the movie. I'm around as back-up and relief. That means I fill in whenever the fussies get going pretty strongly. Even then, she's standing by.

Least you think that means that all she does is baby-sit, think again. As I pointed out a few blogs ago, she remembers everything that David knew. That means she can do all the things that David did. So, currently, she is painting cupboards and wainscoting, building a new woodworking shop, and helping me decorate for the holidays. Today was icicle day. We have a 9 foot tree, so you can imagine how many icicles that's taking. Last night we put up the outside decoration - lights on the hedges and the grazing deer. Yes, I'm helper on all of those projects too, but as with babysitting, she is primary on the project. See, I have the best of all worlds. That's two of the Best Things About Being Married to a Transsexual

My Transsexual Spouse and the Holiday Spirit

What a difference hormones make. Wow! There are times the change since Angela started hormones just stand out. David was not a holiday person. Scrooge would have been better to have around. Now, carols are hummed, decorating is shared and there's joy in our household. We even get the tree decorated without a cross world. I doubt many families can say that. Yes, this is another one of the Best Things About Being Married to a TS: Holidays are fun now.

You would not believe how she pitched in at Thanksgiving. First off, I was not home when everyone arrived. That meant she had to play hostess for nearly two hours, and trust me, that was something that would not have happened before hormones. Now, she is a perfect hostess. She served everyone lunch, got a banquet table out for the puzzle folks, and a card table out for the game folks, and she participated in all of the activities. That meant there was a lot of conversation going on, and that was certainly not something David engaged in - not at all. Angela on the other hand, will join any conversation. She kids along, makes her points, listens well, and lets other even have a different opinion than hers. I wouldn't have believed that would have been possible even a few years ago. Once I got home, the fixin' began. Now, David was seldom seen in the kitchen before the hormones. Angela, on the other hand, is a great cook, and I can't even begin to tell you how much fun we have in the kitchen together. But, with eight people, each doing a project for the meal, it was a rather hazardous area. Of course, everyone's part had to be done at the correct time, so there was a bit of tension in the air. Angela breezed in, took care of clearing away dishes as they were used, made sure the oven temps were perfect, stirred, cut and otherwise helped like a champion. She also got her part done without anyone even noticing she was working on her own thing while she helped them with theirs. Now, that is a talent I could stand to learn myself. Thanksgiving was great success, and our house is decorated for the next round of holiday company.

How My Husband Became My Wife and why I stayed

I'm a dog person. Angela is too - now. You see, David figured dogs were okay, but just okay. He'd pet them, but he regarded them as mine. There were three incidences involving dogs that actually showed me that the transition was the absolute correct choice:

Late October 1997, when David was cross-dressing frequently, I came home on a dark, rainy night and found an emaciated, deaf, old, ill English Cocker Spaniel in my back yard. I was dumbfounded that he had taken in this foundling.
November 1998, when David was cross dressing except when at work, we purchased a six-week-old Bichon puppy and dubbed her Kathryn the Great. She became totally involved with this dog, holding and playing with it frequently. The step between tenderly caring for Geri and total acceptance of Kathryn was remarkable.
Mid September 1999, Angela called from work to tell me she'd be late. I wonder, what’s up, because s/he always rushed home to change into Angela. More than an hour later, while I was stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce, s/he walked in, gave me a “hello” kiss, and walked on. Kathryn the Great followed, and then there was a tiny, little puff-of-white strutting along behind them.
“It followed me home, Mommy. Can I keep it?” Angela, although still dressed as David, said. It was then that I decided that David was like the Grinch – a changed person. The hormones weren't just changing him physically and emotionally. I could see that his heart had grown twice its size.

These incidences showed me that s/he was completely and totally a changed person. I was certain, then, that she should move on to become the woman she needed to be, including the surgery.

One of the Best Things about Living with a Transsexual

Holidays. David used to hate them, but Angela loves them. She gets right in there with the decorating, cooking and all the folderol surrounding the sport of the big day. We have 16 people coming for Thanksgiving. That would be daunting for many, but Angela takes it in stride. First off, because through many of the last years, we've hosted support groups at our home; first in the cross-dressing stages, then through the Real Life Test and long since (it's been nearly 6 years since the SRS). We sometimes had more than 20 people for those, and they always included dinner. So, 16 is a piece of cake, right? Well, not exactly, at least not when you are doing all the cooking, which we did 4 years ago, with modest additions by the visiting troops. This year, outside of munchies before the meal, we are only providing the venue. That means china, silver, decor, loads of glasses and serving dishes, and etc. Now, just cleaning the silver is an undertaking, not to mention crystal and such. I do believe in using my good stuff, but not daily. So, that means a pass through the suds, of course. Oh yeah, I'm also doing two pies. Angela immediately dives into the work with me. I hand her the stuff I dig out of the cupboards. She polishes on the silver while I douse the dishes, crystal and serving pieces. She washes the silver while I dry. I do the dough as she does the filling. We both listen for the buzzers while they cook. She isn't as strong as David was, so it takes us both to carry in the heavy banquet table, and we share the load with carrying in the extra chairs. You get the point here. There is NO grumbling. Instead, I see it in a smile, we share some jokes, and I get lots of hugs and kisses (flour or polish filled usually) as we work. It feels as warm as a holiday gathering. I'm thankful for the change.

MY REAL LIFE TEST a working weekend

Saturday was a day for writing, and when it ended, my proposal for MY REAL LIFE TEST was finished. That accomplishment was primarily due to my mentor, the best selling author Bonnie Hearn-Hill, who graciously gave up a morning to edit the piece. Please visit her website: http//www.bonniehearnhill.com.

Sunday was a double check day, meaning making sure all the edits were done, word-by-word. Now comes the scary part, boxing it up and sending it off, which I hope to do by Friday.

Being a writer means making yourself write. That's harder than you may think. Words have meaning. Every one of them, and each should be used wisely. Choosing the right ones is a must. MY REAL LIFE TEST is my story, so each word choice must also tell exactly what happened to me as I show How My Husband Became My Wife, and Why I Stayed.

But (conjunction) makes an imperfect ending to good intentions

I hate the word BUT. It ruins an otherwise perfect sentence. I've hated it since I was a child, because that is when I first learned that "except"-ional word changed the meaning of all that went before it: "Your room is very neat, but you still need to do your closet." or "Your chores are all finished, but you still need to do your homework before you can go out." When I grew older, I heard things like, "You look great, but you that blouse isn't frilly enough." You know what I mean, don't you? Your teachers & parents used it when correcting you; your boss used it when evaluating you. Your spouse used it when commenting about a meal, clothes, makeup, and hair. Today, I will have used it to make pronouncements on two otherwise perfect days. One of those days occurred last week and one happened yesterday. You see, both days started out perfect, BUT they ended otherwise. Let me begin by saying the end of both of these days should have ended with me attending a class I need and enjoy. The instructor/moderator is a best selling and gifted author, Bonnie Hearn-Hill, who mentors us fledgling writers with tough love, precise insights, and the type of hands-on instruction we could not receive anywhere else. Most of her students have gone on to careers as authors, editors and freelance writers. So, to miss her class is a personal tragedy. My BUT for these days resulted in a missed class. Those misses cannot be recouped, because I did not learn what was discussed those two nights, and was unable to share the triumphs of other classmates, all of which have become dear friends. So, what happened? Day one was a perfect day, full of the possibilities that all would be accomplished with pleasure in a timely fashion. So it was, Angela and I had set ourselves the task of cutting limbs off trees that were infringing on our neighbor's yard. Our trees are in the 70+foot range, so cutting off limbs for two 60ish women is no small undertaking. However, our progress was prodigious, limbs came off, no one was hurt, and the dumpster filled quickly, as did the excess pile next to it. We worked together like the two long time partners we are, making the work fun even though it was difficult. It was a perfect day, BUT when we stopped to clean up, I made a serious mistake. I lay down for a "short" nap. I woke about two in the morning. My compassionate mate let me sleep through the evening. Nice, BUT, I missed my class. Yesterday, a like thing happened. Again, it was class night, and I planned to go. However, the otherwise perfect day took over, and the night was lost. We began with a day full of projects. We have guests coming for the holidays, so tasks that must be done have resulted in a fairly tight schedule, especially now that we are watching our granddaughter. It's amazing how much time a baby takes, isn't it? They can disrupt a whole day while all your plans go awry. Anyway, I can't use that as an excuse, because Thursday is not our day to babysit. Instead, we plowed into our lists, helping one another hold this, hold that, and help carry and whatnot through the day. Angela was working on painting cabinets, me on house cleaning and other smaller projects. The day wound down with our day's lists nearing completion. It was then the BUT happened. Both of us discovered a needful thing was missing, without which, our tasks could not be completed. That meant a trip to the store. Of course, we did not find what we needed at our first two stops - where we expected to make quick purchases and return home. The process ballooned into a search, which last much longer than planned. Time ticked by, and night fell. Frustrated, now, and feeling rushed, we hurried home and delved back into our projects. About the time that hunger began to gnaw at me, Angela finished the laundry room with a "Tada," meaning I was to come admire the handiwork. I did, BUT my sense of joy of another task removed from our to-do list was dashed when I realized it was 9 p.m. A perfect day of accomplishements, BUT I'd missed a class that was important to me.

Best things about being married to a transsexual

It's a gorgeous fall day, perfect for using the rototiller on the compost pile, but the baby is here. No problem - Grammy Angela is on the job. She's the designated babysitter, you know that, of course; but, the reality is, when we have a fussy baby, I'm usually the one on duty. Not today. She volunteered. So, that's just another example of a "Best Thing." Those motherly instincts are right up there at the surface now. All it took was a little less (okay, a lot less) testosterone, and she's all cuddly and there-there-ish. I was soon up to my ankles in chunky compost while Miss Brooke was fussing at Angela. I also got all the bird feeders filled, including those for the humming birds. Yes, in California, they are still humming around. We all love being outside where we get to watch the squirrels and birds. Keeping the feeders full means we maintain the supply of tweeters, hummers and chirpers to entertained us and the dogs. Now, I can enjoy the rest of the day reading up on my writing magazines while we take turns tending to Miss Brooke.

Doctor Visits as the Grandparents

It's pretty nice to have someone to help when you have a baby to take to doctor's appointments and shopping and such, don't you agree? So, now that she's a grandmother, I think Angela should be there for all the important facets of our granddaughter's life, especially since, she's the one who volunteered for babysitting duty. I'm just the tag along, right! You believe that don't you? Me neither. Today, the two of us took Brooke in for her shots. The staff naturally assumed that we were "dueling" grandmothers, so we got the, "isn't it nice she has both grandmothers here," bit. We just smiled. They don't know the trans angle yet. We'll see they get a copy of the Discovery Channel Documentary with us as one of the featured folks (Changing Sexes: Male to Female) so none of us are embarrassed next time. You see, neither of the parents wanted to witness their daughter getting her second series of shots. They hated going through the first round, and they think it'll be easier for me because I already went through it years ago with Aud (Brooke's Mom). Angela, as David, was off fighting in Vietnam when our daughter had to have all her shots, so she missed that whole ordeal. So, I thought it was only fair she have to suffer it this time around, don't you agree? I'm happy to report that we all survived. Brooke hardly cried, and Angela didn't faint, so all was well. She's a real trouper!

I always wanted a wife

Life gets complicated. Have you noticed that time gets squeezed; there's more to do than time to do it, and the old job jar stays full? So, one afternoon, when I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all, I blurted out, "I wish I had a wife." I wanted one because wives take care of the details. Wives make things "nice." They make life comfortable. So, even though I WAS a wife, I decided I wanted one too. That was long before David became Angela, but the thought of having a wife to take care of the details, to make things nice and comfortable continued to be appealing. I never realized just how much that wish became ingrained until Angela began her transition. As she began her Real Life Test, she said, "You bring home the bacon, and I'll do the housework and cooking during the week." Wow! Suddenly, I had a wife! What's more, she liked it, it was all new to her. When I came home from work, the house was clean, the dinner was on . I could come in, change clothes and have some down time. I even began to join her in the kitchen, as time went on, and we found it was fun to fix a meal together. We talked while we stirred a pot or handed down a serving plate. We tried recipes, we took turns doing the salad while the other did a side dish. We conferred on the main course. The barbecue and I became friends, just as Angela had become friends with the bread machine, the mixer and the cookbook. So, the past couple of evenings, I've been stuck to the computer, and Angela has been busily whipping up dinner. It's so very nice to have a wife!

Best Things of Transgender/TS marriage

One of the best things about being married to a TS is their memories haven't changed. That means Angela knows everything that David did. He was very good at inventing ways of getting things done that initially seemed difficult. Angela is no different.

Today, we were working on building a large cabinet for our shop. The heavy 4x8 panels of wood were too unwieldy to use the table saw, even with the help of the outfeed roller and both of us manipulating them. She went into invention mode and soon came up with an alternate way to get the ungainly sheets cut. Yes, it took thirty minutes of set up time and lots of measuring, but, once done, we had three very large, heavy sheets of wood sawed into the many pieces needed. So, what did we use instead of the table saw? The circular saw, two sawhorses, 2 large clamps, a straight edge invention of hers that uses a 1x6 piece of wood with an aluminum channel attached to the long edge, and another 1x4 at right angles to the straight edge.

Hello, welcome to our life after Sex Reassignment Surgery

Hello,

Day one of a blog is pretty scary, especially on a subject that's just-a-tad unusual - like transmarriage. Here's the reality though, I'm married to a post-op transsexual, and I'm happy about it, hence the name of this blog.

If you want the details, see About Me. Here's the short version:
Married 1966 to David, a Lieutenant in the A.F.
Followed the Harry Benjamin Standards of Care
We survived all the stages of cross-dressing and hormones (it's great fun to have a teenage daughter going through puberty that is REALLY your 50+ year old husband!)
SRS (sex reassignment surgery) 2002.
On the Discovery Channel Documentary Changing Sexes: Male to Female - still airing

I consider the rest of our life our REAL LIFE TEST. This blog is for me and you. I want to share our lives, ask and answer questions, and get to know fellow trans families. There are other marrieds out there, and others facing decisions about being with trans, whether it's a spouse, a child, a friend, coworker or neighbor. Let's talk. Let's share our stories. I'll answer questions willingly, but not diatribes and not ugliness. I know there are folks out there who will disagree with me about transfolks and marriage. I'll agree to let you have your opinions, and I'll have mine. No fights and no fouls. Let's be friends.

See you tomorrow.