The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1044 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Why do I find it unnerving to see my son wearing lip gloss and a dress—both of which I bought him? I’m beginning to understand what my parents must have gone through and other friends and relatives when I changed my lifestyle.

Okay, I should be sympathetic because I desired it for myself when I was in that same situation, but it feels really funny to have the boot on the other foot. If that’s what Billie ultimately wants, to live as a girl, then I’ll accept and cope with it, and possibly it’s just the novelty that’s the problem.

With Trish and Julie, it was different—I didn’t know them as boys, so I had no great change to make in my attitude; their changeover was more of an intellectual thing for me, the emotional stuff came later as I got to know and love them. With Billie, I loved him as a boy so I have to make change in my perceptions, although I still have her as my child and therefore I will love her, full stop. I suppose it’s a bit like sending a kid to uni and helping them get a good degree in something or other and then watch them throw it all away because they want to be a pop singer or an actor.

If it’s truly what they want, then you have to let them do it and still love them—I don’t know which is the harder bit. When they start dating or settle down with someone, what if I don’t get on with their most loved? Oh dear, what a horrible thought.

It was Friday and I’d just returned from taking Julie to work and the three mouseketeers to school, Billie was still off while I worked out what to do next. We had an appointment with Stephanie at ten, so Billie had spent most of the morning pestering Stella to help her look just so. She certainly looked very presentable—though I’m not sure what I think of nine year olds wearing lip gloss: but then, the other week I saw a girl who couldn’t have been more than about eight wearing more makeup than a pantomine dame and higher heels, whilst her skirt only just covered her knickers. In a couple of years, if she continued like that she’d be jail bait. That was something I was determined to prevent in my children—although Julie and I had the most awful rows, usually commencing with me saying, “You’re not going out like that.”
Her defensive questioning, “Why not?”

And my illogical riposte, “I’m your mother, that’s why!”

I know she wondered about, “No you’re not,” but thought better of it.

How do I know this? It happened at breakfast this morning. She wore a vest thing which kept falling off her shoulders and a mini skirt which showed her panties when she moved. In the end we compromised, she changed into her shorts with leggings—the footless ones, and I let her keep the vest on. If her boob enhancers show or fall out while she’s washing someone’s hair...oh well.

Before I could contemplate facing the traffic again, I needed a cuppa which my newest daughter made for me, while I changed into something a bit tidier—I promised I take Billie out for lunch—only to somewhere like Morrison’s café, if she behaved with Stephanie and answered her questions honestly.

This was the first appointment I’d been able to get with the good doctor since the pills episode. We still don’t know what happened, and our main hope is that Stephanie would get to the bottom of it.

I changed into a dress, a bit more elegant than Billie’s and also threw on some make up and jewellery. “Can I spend some of my money and buy myself a girl’s watch, Mummy?”

“Yes, providing you only buy an inexpensive one for the moment.”

“Can I go to the same school as Trish, in September?”

“I think we need to see about that a bit later. If it becomes necessary, then I think Sister Maria would be sympathetic to the idea. It’s what we do in the interim that matters most for the moment.”

“You’re not gonna send me back to school with boys, are you, Mummy?”

“Shall we wait and see what Dr Stephanie recommends?”

“She won’t send me back will she?”

“Billie, calm down—no one is going to do anything until you’ve seen her, and then her advice I discuss it with Daddy. Then we discuss it with you and perhaps even the others—after all, whatever happens has some impact upon the others, even if you went back to being a boy tomorrow, it has some affect upon Danny and Livvie and Meems and Trish. It also has an affect upon us adults too.”

“Grown ups just want everythin’ their own way,” she pouted and ran off upstairs. Stella intercepted and waved me away. I glanced at my watch, it was half past nine.

“Tell the drama queen we have to be at the doctor’s in less than half an hour, so she’d better get her bum down here now.”

“Or what?” Stella challenged me.

“Stella, please don’t interfere, without Stephanie’s agreement, she will be removed from here by social services, and then what will happen?”

“Okay, I’ll send her down asap.”

“If it’s longer than ten minutes, she loses out on her lunch.” I felt irritated and I wasn’t sure why? Maybe I’m grieving for the loss of my son? Or is it just that this is slipping out of my control and I’m a self confessed control freak? At least I’m aware that I have a problem—yeah, me of all people.

Billie came downstairs with Stella. “No more bullying, missus,” cautioned Stella.

I glowered at her.

“It’s a red card next time.”

“What are you on about? I haven’t bullied anyone—I’m just forceful, because we have an appointment we need to keep and I refuse to let the animals run the zoo. Someone has to take charge.”

“Bossy boots,” snapped Stella.

“That’s me—c’mon, missy or we’ll be late.”

We drove most of the way in relative silence, then Billie said, “You don’t want me to be a girl, do you?”

“What I want is of little consequence. If it’s what you need to do—in which case you can count on my full support and all those of the family.”

“It is, Mummy, I absolutely need to be a girl.”

“If Dr Stephanie agrees—and that won’t be today, then I’ll do all I can to help you.”

“What if Dr Stephanie says no?”

“I’d prefer not to think about that until it happens, which you assure me won’t. If it’s really what you need to do?”

“Oh it is, Mummy.”

“Okay, sweetheart, but it’s not just me you need to convince is it? Oh and redo your lip gloss, you’ve got some on your nose.”