BY TONY ZIMBARDI—LE MONS

Home Sweet Home

“It’s so nice talking to other gay parents, no one else can really understand what it’s like.” We’re sitting in the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore on the final day of our family honeymoon. We’ve befriended a lesbian couple on our trip named Sarah and Abby, who live in New Jersey. We’re all a little exhausted by the whirlwind trip and we’re having a snack together.

The boys are enraptured with Sarah and Abby’s daughter Claire, who is 12. “It looks like your boys have found a surrogate big sister,” Sarah comments. “Yes, Claire is great with them,” I reply. “Too bad we don’t all live closer,” I add. For the first time, I notice that Claire’s conversation is peppered with “my parents” this and “my parents” that; I find it interesting that she has come up with a language that works for her. I somewhat expected that she would refer to her “moms” but the term is never used in her conversation, despite the fact that she refers to them both as “mom.”

A few hours later, we’re waiting to be seated in a restaurant before taking off for home. Antonio is in the restroom with Edward, while Jamie and I wait at the maitre’ d station. The hostess appears and seeing only Jamie and I, asks, “Party of two?” “No,” Jamie answers. “My other parent is in the restroom with my brother. There’s four of us.” Other parent? Well, I guess Claire left an even bigger impression than I thought.

Like our trip to Baltimore, the trip home was exhausting for the four of us. Our plane got in at 10:30 on a Sunday evening and our luggage didn’t come down the chute for almost an hour. And again, like the trip there, we found ourselves searching for dinner at almost midnight. We pull into the Burger King near LAX—the boys are so excited, we’ve never done the drive-through window before. “I’m so glad to be back, Papa,” Edward announces from the rear seat. “Home sweet home,” he continues. “Yeah,” Jaime chimes in, “home sweet home.” We pull out of the parking lot and onto the 405 heading north. My eyes well up a little, home sweet home. That’s what our boys have come to know in the new life we’ve created with them.

As we head down toward the 101 interchange, I take Antonio’s spare hand in mine. We silently ride along as I glance up at the starless L.A. sky. The roller coaster ride of the adoption is over; I can exhale now. I realize our former lives of dinners and cocktails with the boys (uh, men) and roaming around town in the two-seat roadster are behind us. We’re family now, a forever family. And in that moment, Antonio silently squeezes my hand a little tighter; we head down the hill and with each breath, I take in the understanding that a new and exciting life together is waiting, just for the four of us.

In the next installment: The family adjusts to “regular” life.

Tony Zimbardi Psy.D. is a psychotherapist in private practice in West Hollywood. More of his writing can be found at www.drtonyzimbardi.com.