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.