Haus of VanDriver?

This week has been one of those weeks. One that makes me want to wander the aisles of Target to find the most comfortable and ugliest clothing to wear while lying under my weighted blanket and shopping for things I’ve decided I need on Amazon. For example these capris with pockets that I already own and LOVE (but need more) and this water bottle to drink tea on the go. (Again, I already own one but clearly need another!)

Why was this week so crazy? It’s my child. They grow up so quickly and, as much as you want to protect them and shield them from everything, you have to let them get out there and take chances. Sometimes they fail, sometimes they fly but either way you have to be there for them to keep those wings flapping.

I’m not talking about my school age children today but rather my drag foster child and their debut as a drag queen this week. To prepare we met up and discussed costumes, makeup, mixes. (I’m really not an a source of much knowledge on most of this but moral support is the name of the game!) I stress rhinestoned and sewed my way through the week and drank so much tea I couldn’t sleep.

The day finally arrived. As I left to meet them at the train my family waited in anticipation for updates. We arrived at the bar and, oddly enough, I felt at home. If you know me in real life this is strange as I’ve never been a big drinker. In college my friend Karen and I would wait up for our friends to arrive home while snacking on frozen grapes and coloring. With this in mind, me walking into a bar in Philly and knowing people that I didn’t pre-plan to meet there, continues to be an oddly exhilarating experience.

While my drag daughter went into the dressing room I nervously waited at the bar. I hung out with some friends, met some new ones, and asked a few of them sneak back and check on her. She emerged timidly but slowly found her place. Her name was called to perform and I was in shock — she appeared confident and DID IT. The look on her face at the end said it all. It was a combination of relief, excitement, and shock that it actually happened. I couldn’t be prouder and I’m so happy I could be there for her first step towards her dreams.

No one ever said that raising kids was easy. It’s uncharted territory, specifically when you are raising a drag child when you’re not a drag queen. Families aren’t always conventional but I’d love to welcome you into the Haus of VanDriver. Or the VanDriver family. Or just come over and I’ll force you to eat veggies like any other Mom.

All unclaimed queens are welcome here, I may not be able to give you makeup advice but gosh darn it, I can get you some chicken soup and we can discuss rhinestones.

I have always been a minivan driver. This is me with my first car, 1994 Dodge Caravan in green.

PS There are affiliate links in here.


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