Ouch, the things you learn from your kids! I suppose every parent goes through this sort of thing, but being able to talk with your now adult children reveals some interesting things you were not aware of when they were growing up. Specifically, I gained some insights into the age old question "Do we tell the kids?" I have a message for all you closeted crossdressers with children: you don't have to tell them, they already know.

My daughter has moved home to go to college in town, and our son visits on weekends, as much for the free laundry and all the food he can swipe as to visit the old folks. It was one of those late night gab sessions that occasionally happen, and the subject got around to the things they had pulled on their parents long enough ago to be able to admit them now. There's no other way to say it, we were bamboozled from top to bottom, and I can only console myself by thinking of the things I pulled on my parents in turn. Naturally the subject of my crossdressing came up along the way, and I was certainly enlightened.

My son found out when he went poking around in my van where I kept a suitcase of Ricky's clothes for the time I spent on the road. When my daughter was about 10 I built a locked closet in a corner of the attic to hide my dresses, thinking it was out of the way and would attract no interest. Yeah, I should have painted a billboard with a great red arrow saying "Daddy's hiding something behind this door and you absolutely need to find out what!!!" It became a challenge and it was practically no time before she found the key and opened the closet, with a friend looking on, and then hastily shut it again wondering what the heck those mammoth dresses were doing in there. It was a considerable time later that we formally told the kids about my odd hobby, and they have both been wonderfully accepting. They even managed to get through last Halloween when I came out of the closet and ran around the city in my flowery finest for all to see, and my daughter has seen me dressed many times without any damage to her psyche.

There is both a relief and a responsibility in having the kids know you are a crossdresser. Naturally no longer having to hide a major part of yourself is wonderful, but that also entails a major responsibility to not let your desires take over the needs of your family. The first crossdresser I met in person almost made me quit dressing (Well I know it wouldn't have lasted but...) He had absolutely no consideration for his wife and daughter, who could never invite people over because when he got the urge to dress he dressed and damn the family. He never helped around the house, spent money they didn't have on clothing and wigs and made up the most outrageous stories to justify his insensitivity.

I just noticed I have been using the masculine pronoun when I try mightily to use the feminine to describe my sisters even if it gives me a rather funny feeling to call a he a she. I have never been able to think of this person as anything other than a man with fake boobs. The pain he caused his family was so very apparent, but he could not see it or react to it. Years later I took rape and abuse training and recognized that this person was using his crossdressing as one of many abusive tactics on his family. To see something I find so enjoyable perverted to a tool of hate disturbs me greatly., but then a very wise man once said "Never underestimate the power of human stupidity." Unfortunately, he was right.

All this surfaced recently because my daughter is now an engaged woman, and we have brought my future son in law in on the secret. I actually think I was more nervous about him finding out than when our kids did. He is an exceptional young man and was not at all upset, but what happened couple weeks ago has blown my mind. We're hosting a baby and her mom in our house, so I have not been able to get dressed for about three months now, and the urge is getting rather strong these days. When I found myself unexpectedly the only one in the house last Saturday I eagerly donned bra, blouse and heels and sat down at the computer to write. I did shut the bedroom door just in case someone came home, but knew I had at least four hours before any scheduled arrivals.

Anyone who has dealt with one of those airline TV monitors is sure to know what happened next. In the middle of a creative fog there comes a knock on the bedroom door and I about severed my knees when I leaped up in my chair and rammed them into the desk drawer. I hastily asked "Who is it?" and was answered by my future son in law's voice. He wanted to come in. Partial relaxation, he saw me dressed on Halloween and didn't freak out. But the beard is grown back now, it feels different.

Taking a firm grip on my lifelong reflex to hide my skirted self from the world I called out "I'll warn you I'm dressed, but if you want to you can come in."

He did. Not so much as a raised eyebrow, no quaver in his voice, just a cheery "Hi Dad, where is everybody? We're all supposed to meet here for the concert." With that he crossed the room and put his hands on my shoulders. To me it felt like my bra straps were about 2 inches thick under his hands, drawing attention to my well padded bosom. He commented about how warm I felt to his cold hands and gave me a short neck rub, and went out to wait for the rest of the group to show up.

I feel very warm and fuzzy thinking about his matter of fact, uncritical acceptance of me. There are not many 20 year old men who are able to casually touch another man while he's wearing women's clothes without the slightest bit of anxiety or revulsion. What I was wearing made absolutely no difference to him. Even though his news of an impending horde in my living room meant I had to return to the land of normalcy, I kept the glow of that unstrained personal acceptance with me throughout the day.