In this family, normal means two fathers

They're a typical family, munching on chips, sitting in front of a crackling fire on a recent day as the late winter rays slant into the living room. ''Did you walk Betsy?" John Budron asks one of his sons. Seems that Betsy, their corgi, has a little, uh, stomach problem.

There's laughter, and one of the kids snuggles close to Budron on the couch. The boys like to go to the movies, the arcade, ride their bikes, and build forts. One of them is a straight-A student; the other goofs off a little more.

Ask the boys, who will soon turn 12 and 13, what family is all about, and the older says: ''It's a group of people who love and care for each other."

''Love," replies his brother.

It would be nice if all the adults who are trying to define family as the product of a husband and a wife could see things as clearly as an adolescent. Instead, everyone from the Catholic Church in Massachusetts to politicians in various states have now found a new wedge issue for the next elections: gay adoption. Since it is clear that Massachusetts has not become Sodom and Gomorrah after legalizing gay marriage two years ago, the Christian right is now zeroing in on the ''victims" of some of those marriages: their children. Efforts to ban gay adoption are underway in at least 16 states.

Recently, the heads of the four Catholic dioceses in the Commonwealth sought to reverse the longstanding practice of Catholic Charities under which a handful of children have been adopted by same-sex couples. The Vatican has pronounced such adoptions ''gravely immoral."

John Budron and Tim Fitzgerald of Milton have been together nearly 20 years. Two years ago, they were married in their church. They had been together 10 years when they submitted an application to the state Department of Social Services to adopt a child. They filled out 20 pages of forms and essays, submitted to background checks, underwent a home study, and took a 30-week program to become adoptive parents. Six weeks into it, they were asked whether they would take in three mixed-race brothers, ages 3, 4, and 5. The youngsters were, to use the terminology, ''high risk."

Here's why. Their father was in jail for sexually molesting his stepdaughter. The boys were already in foster care since their mother was unable or unwilling to parent them. An older brother was in residential treatment for emotional problems. He went home for occasional visits. During one such visit, he urinated while sitting on the lap of his mother's boyfriend. The boyfriend pushed him to the floor and kicked him until the intestines gushed out of his body. The mother watched the boy suffer for three days before he died. The boyfriend went to prison for life; the mother served a short sentence.

Enter Budron and Fitzgerald. They took the two youngest boys in -- the oldest was sent to specialized foster care for those with severe issues. It wasn't easy tending to two little boys with serious baggage. The couple would be kicked out of stores because the kids were so wild.

''They needed a lot of parenting," says Fitzgerald, special events director at Fenway Community Health Center.

But from the moment they saw the boys, they fell in love with them. ''I have never questioned whether or not we made the right decision," says Budron, an assistant dean at UMass-Boston.

''It's the most important thing I've done in my life," adds Fitzgerald. Both have taught Sunday school at their church, where Budron was the treasurer last year; Fitzgerald served as vice president of the elementary school PTO. The couple attends all their boys' athletic games and host the postseason parties. (They don't want their sons' names revealed in order to protect the boys' privacy.)

A few years ago, the younger boy was diagnosed as bipolar and placed in residential treatment. His fathers visited him every evening. He'd bang his head against the wall, upend furniture, and have to be restrained. He had suicidal impulses.

The state Department of Mental Health told the fathers that their son needed long-term residential care. The men said no. ''He had already been abandoned and abused, and we could not do that to him," says Budron.

So Fitzgerald quit his job to stay home. ''We ran our own residential program here," is the way he puts it.

By the fifth grade, the boy, now on medication, was healthy enough to be mainstreamed at his elementary school. His older brother is a straight-A student, though he has attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder. ''They're as normal as any kids their age," says Budron, his pride evident.

There's a third boy sitting in that cozy living room, the oldest brother, the one who was in Westwood Lodge for emotional issues when the other two were adopted. Throughout the years, he has visited his brothers often, though he was adopted by his specialized foster care mother, who was trained to deal with difficult cases. But his adoptive mother is now ill with cancer, and Budron and Fitzgerald have become his legal guardians, with plans to adopt him. The household has grown.

Ask the experts, the boys, about their family. ''Besides the fact that I have two fathers, nothing is different," says the 11-year-old. He points to Budron, ''You have the strict parent," then to Fitzgerald, ''and you have the goofy parent."

Being a parent is not just about genes and ego, about seeing yourself reflected in your children. It's about getting up in the middle of the night with a sick child, wiping runny noses, getting meals on the table, washing loads of clothes, struggling to help with a middle-school math problem. It's about tucking a child into bed at night, saying ''I love you," or ''I'm sorry," or ''no" when necessary. (Such as, ''No, you cannot rent 'Girls Gone Wild.' ")

John Budron and Tim Fitzgerald have done all that, and so much more. Tell them that their sons are lucky and they disagree: It is they, say the couple, who are the lucky ones.

Bella English can be reached at english@globe.com.