As far as the parenting world is concerned, the only struggle greater than that of raising a child is to lose one. It’s a struggle of loss, of grief, of identity, of recovery, of hope.
And it is one that is often kept silent. It’s a topic seldom openly discussed, and consequently one that most people are inept at dealing with. Here, I wish to do my part to normalize this conversation, to show the inside workings of the mind of a parent who loses a child and how they manage to keep on going. Continue reading
Before my daughter was born and we didn’t know her gender, we used to refer to her as “it”. After she was born, the pronoun stuck and we began calling her “it” when we wanted to imply that she was acting like a beastly creature.
When she was down for a nap in her room, my husband would stick the baby monitor in my face and say, “It’s awake”.
When she would pee on me: “It hates you”.
When she would throw a tantrum: “It’s losing its shit”. Continue reading
Time flies. Time is money. Time is of essence. Time is ticking. Sands of time. Time waits for no one. What time is it anyway?
We kill time. We make time. It can be a good time or a bad time. There is quality time, and there is a quantity of time. Time is a product, a tangible thing it seems.
And to raise a child is to understand the paradigm of time. Mainly because children are predisposed to give less of a shit about time then a bird with an imminent bowel movement does about your car. Continue reading
Recently I was having coffee with a friend whose son is my daughter’s age. She said to me, “I don’t know if this makes me a bad mom or something…” here she dropped her voice to a whisper, “but I am so happy to drop my kid off to daycare on Mondays.”
I laughed. Then I told her that I do a drive-by drop off on Mondays. A drive-by drop off is when you slowly drive by your child’s school, roll down your windows and hurl your child out into the waiting arms of the teacher, and yell, “See ya later bitches!!” and then put on your sunglasses and crank up the volume on Drake. Continue reading
Clink, clink, clink.
I watch her through the rising steam of my cup of chai.
She brings the pestle down again and again onto the small, round, red hot peppers being doomed to the destiny of powdery flakiness in the mortar. She sits on the floor, the gold bangles on her dark wrists gleaming in the midday sun streaming in through one of the kitchen windows. Continue reading
I am an accountant.
It’s an exhilarating and exciting job. Everyday, I have key decisions to make like what color to choose for my spreadsheet report. Which file folder do I use? Which color stickies do I select? It’s almost as unpredictable and creatively satisfying as being Beyoncé. Continue reading
Creeping on my mom and spawn
You are the apple of your parents’ eyes. They love you unconditionally. They have tucked you in and kissed your boo-boos. They have ooh-ed and aah-ed at each one of your accomplishments. They love you more than they love anyone else. Continue reading