Mommy may I?

Tristan Taormino's article on Mommy Play, MILFs, etc at Village Voice:http://www.villagevoice.com/people/0745,taormino,78292,24.htmlthoughts from an article I wrote that does not yet have a home... about how I came to find my place in Mommy play, to identify as a Mommy so strongly:As a man, you’d think I would prefer to be a Daddy. In the right times and places, I am. But being a Mommy is different. Daddies in my world, born a woman whose first lover was a leatherman from San Francisco, are there to train, fuck, be patted on the back by, to run to when you need backup. Daddy has a culture behind it in the BDSM community, in the Leather community, but my own biological father was a drunken mentally unstable individual for a chunk of when I was growing up, self medicating his mental illness issues, and I had no interest in being like that man. I never idolized my father. I screamed when he held me just after I was born, and we never stopped.But I idolized mi Madre. Half Basque and Half a wild unknown (her own mother has a strange background that led her to change her nationality every few years based on who had the best parties- sons of Norway, or sons of Italy), my biological mother was a tough military woman who left Army Intelligence just after I was born for medical reasons. She raised me on her own over half the time, and while doing so landed a double Masters degree, her raven black hair sparkling under twinkling lights as my child eyes looked up at the woman who could do anything. When she was blackballed from the University system for standing up for what was ethical, not what was financially best for the school, she cut off all her hair and became a combination plumber/woodworker/social worker by becoming our apartment manager.[cut]I talk to a lot of other Mommy identified perverts (my word, not theirs, usually) now, and it seems like my version of Mommy is different from theirs. Mommy likes to get drunk with her girlfriends, and come home to wake up the teenage boy and convince him to fuck her friends. Mommy makes cookies in her high heels then steals kisses from her Son in the closet when the step-father isn’t looking. Mommy goes out to BDSM clubs only to find out that her boy snuck into the same club under a fake ID and now he wants to find out why Mommy likes having bruises (and boy is he a fast learner).Mommy wants to make sure that her boy grows up to be a strong man, and if that means crushing a few heads, she can do that. Mommy hates her Son’s girlfriends (and boyfriends) breaking his heart, and will fuck them up if she needs to. Mommy cries and her boy holds her. Mommy likes to fuck her Son. Mommy likes that her boy is twelve some days, and in his thirties others, and the truth is that no matter what, he’s still her boy.Sometimes he calls me Daddy now, a term he never thought he’d say again (he lost his Daddy). But he’s my boy, my Son, no matter the term he chooses. I want to guard him from the world, but I need to let him make his own mistakes. I want to comfort him at every stage, but I need him to comfort me in the littlest of ways. I want to save him from the world, but I need him to save me from myself.So why would I, a guy born as a woman, want to be a Mommy? Because it’s the truth. I am a Mommy. I flag mint green. I bake cake. I collect knives. I can travel the world on a shoestring budget. I wear shit-kicker boots. I pack a hard cock. And my boys and girls (they know who they are) can curl up in my lap and cry any time they like. It’s what a Mommy does.[cut]**So yeah, no I'm not posting the entire article, because its very personal and I want to save it for publication somewhere (any takers? It was originally written for an age play anthology that never happened)... but I wanted to respond to the article with some of my own thoughts, and I am too drained at the moment to post as deeply as I'd like.