this blessing in your life.”
Wyatt applauded her diplomatic response. He knew too many parents coming from that place of pain to pass judgment.
“Doesn’t the fact that we’re in committed relationships make a difference?” Earring clasped the hand of Stain-on-Tie.
“Regardless of whether stereotypes about two-dad families are true, if a birth mother, agency, social worker, or attorney believes that children shouldn’t be placed in a two-dad home, you’re going to face an uphill battle.”
“Should we adopt daughters?” Stain-on-Tie spoke for the first time.
Peach looked doubtful. “I don’t think gender specification is a good thing,” she answered carefully. “The more open you are to any child, the less it looks like you have a suspect preference.”
“It’s ridiculous that we’re having this discussion!” sputtered Horn Rims. “Single women aren’t suspected of molestation if they try to adopt a boy!”
“It’s true.” Peach was genuinely sad. “We’ve come a long way, but there’s still far to go.”
Wyatt wondered if he looked gay. He was the only straight man in the room. And the only single man.
“How do we start?” asked a man so studiously dressed in every shade of blue the ensemble shrieked that he’d rather be wearing a flair of pink.
Peach brightened. “I have a sheet!” She handed a sheaf of light blue papers to her left. Everyone took one and passed it on.
It was cheerful and covered with little icons of yellow ducks and baby rattles, and provided no real information. It wouldn’t have passed even the flimsiest of laugh tests with Wyatt’s students. He could imagine their mockery: “Don’t forget: Wake up! And breathe!” “Put on your pants! Don’t shit in them!”
Sensing that the natives were restless, Peach rushed on. “Once you apply to adopt a child—regardless of whether it’s through an agency, a broker, or directly to the court—the laws of California require a home study. That’s the written report of the social worker who has met with the applicants on several occasions, both individually and together.” Peach did not offer the single-applicant scenario.
“How long does it take?” Useful information had recaptured the group’s attention, though Horn Rims rolled his eyes to make sure they knew he was ahead of the class. Wyatt had a flash of gladness the couple hadn’t been given a child, but then felt guilty and disloyal.
“Three to six months, but public agencies may take longer. The criminal background check and verifying employment history can take time.”
“Are there special considerations we, as gay couples, need to anticipate?” Blue Boy focused on the practical. Wyatt bet he was a lawyer. Then he wondered if he was supposed to speculate about people in support groups without name tags.
Peach looked at them frankly. “Take down the black-and-white framed nudes, no matter how tasteful. Throw out the dildos. Hide the Thunder from Down Under wall calendar. Serve homemade lemonade and cookies, not umbrella drinks and sashimi. Don’t have a criminal record, and if you do, come clean at once. Get a Volvo, an ironing board, and a Crock-Pot. If you can dig up a doting granny and cart her over in a rocker, all the better.”
Someone joked, “I’ll lure Gran with my famous apple martini,” amid chuckles. Wyatt had never owned any porn, but he made a mental note to throw out any Abercrombie & Fitch catalogs, and maybe that flammable-seeming blanket he’d kept from a United Airlines flight back from Hawaii.
“Look,” Peach said. “I don’t want to pander to stereotypes, but others will, so think of every gay joke you can imagine and dispel traces of it from your home. Be prepared for more challenges than a straight couple, but be persistent in pushing through them.” She smiled. “It’s an exhausting process, but worth it in the end.”
Tension eased from most of the collective shoulders, and the men smiled at one another.
Wyatt applauded her diplomatic response. He knew too many parents coming from that place of pain to pass judgment.
“Doesn’t the fact that we’re in committed relationships make a difference?” Earring clasped the hand of Stain-on-Tie.
“Regardless of whether stereotypes about two-dad families are true, if a birth mother, agency, social worker, or attorney believes that children shouldn’t be placed in a two-dad home, you’re going to face an uphill battle.”
“Should we adopt daughters?” Stain-on-Tie spoke for the first time.
Peach looked doubtful. “I don’t think gender specification is a good thing,” she answered carefully. “The more open you are to any child, the less it looks like you have a suspect preference.”
“It’s ridiculous that we’re having this discussion!” sputtered Horn Rims. “Single women aren’t suspected of molestation if they try to adopt a boy!”
“It’s true.” Peach was genuinely sad. “We’ve come a long way, but there’s still far to go.”
Wyatt wondered if he looked gay. He was the only straight man in the room. And the only single man.
“How do we start?” asked a man so studiously dressed in every shade of blue the ensemble shrieked that he’d rather be wearing a flair of pink.
Peach brightened. “I have a sheet!” She handed a sheaf of light blue papers to her left. Everyone took one and passed it on.
It was cheerful and covered with little icons of yellow ducks and baby rattles, and provided no real information. It wouldn’t have passed even the flimsiest of laugh tests with Wyatt’s students. He could imagine their mockery: “Don’t forget: Wake up! And breathe!” “Put on your pants! Don’t shit in them!”
Sensing that the natives were restless, Peach rushed on. “Once you apply to adopt a child—regardless of whether it’s through an agency, a broker, or directly to the court—the laws of California require a home study. That’s the written report of the social worker who has met with the applicants on several occasions, both individually and together.” Peach did not offer the single-applicant scenario.
“How long does it take?” Useful information had recaptured the group’s attention, though Horn Rims rolled his eyes to make sure they knew he was ahead of the class. Wyatt had a flash of gladness the couple hadn’t been given a child, but then felt guilty and disloyal.
“Three to six months, but public agencies may take longer. The criminal background check and verifying employment history can take time.”
“Are there special considerations we, as gay couples, need to anticipate?” Blue Boy focused on the practical. Wyatt bet he was a lawyer. Then he wondered if he was supposed to speculate about people in support groups without name tags.
Peach looked at them frankly. “Take down the black-and-white framed nudes, no matter how tasteful. Throw out the dildos. Hide the Thunder from Down Under wall calendar. Serve homemade lemonade and cookies, not umbrella drinks and sashimi. Don’t have a criminal record, and if you do, come clean at once. Get a Volvo, an ironing board, and a Crock-Pot. If you can dig up a doting granny and cart her over in a rocker, all the better.”
Someone joked, “I’ll lure Gran with my famous apple martini,” amid chuckles. Wyatt had never owned any porn, but he made a mental note to throw out any Abercrombie & Fitch catalogs, and maybe that flammable-seeming blanket he’d kept from a United Airlines flight back from Hawaii.
“Look,” Peach said. “I don’t want to pander to stereotypes, but others will, so think of every gay joke you can imagine and dispel traces of it from your home. Be prepared for more challenges than a straight couple, but be persistent in pushing through them.” She smiled. “It’s an exhausting process, but worth it in the end.”
Tension eased from most of the collective shoulders, and the men smiled at one another.
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