The truth requires few words, very few. It is the stories we construct to protect us from having to see or face the truth that require long winded explanations and rationalizations.
My mother, Frances Raichlen, wore the barbecue pants in my family. Back in a day when most women wouldn't go near a grill, my mother loaded ours wi...
We celebrate Mother' Day in a variety of ways. Some of us will take our wives and/or mothers to a nice restaurant. We might even offer a toast on their behalf.
Whether it's flying to another country, road tripping to a nearby state or fulfilling your mother's lifelong dream, we hold our travel memories with mom close to our hearts.
To prepare for the arrival of my daughter, fourteen months old this Mother's Day, I turned to friends and family for advice on strollers, swaddles, bottles and more. Many had long lists of registry suggestions, from life-saving nipple cream to hands-free pumping bras (all very new to me).
Moms never leave our sides. They continue to guide us across life's stages, they sit beside us in meetings and frequently sit on our shoulders helping us determine how we should respond or react to a situation. Of course, all of this often goes on without our awareness, except for maybe on this day every year.
It might surprise you to learn that every year there are 1.5 million women living with HIV giving birth around the world. While every mom is different, we all share one thing: We want our babies to be given the healthy start in life they deserve.
It has been almost seven years since she had passed. Her presence is sorely missed. And yet her legacy -- the life of a woman, a mother, of dignity and youth -- lives on. Colors fade as life perishes but they stay as beautiful, like old rose.
I get a lot of motherly input in my life. I have an amazing mom, a fantastic mother-in-law, a one of kind older sister, world class sisters-in-law, aunts, great aunts, and friends. And over the course of those very many relationships, I have received countless pieces of advice -- both solicited and unsolicited (my personal favorite).
I feel that the celebration of stepmotherhood in our cultures should start with us the stepmoms. I also think that it is great to celebrate on Mother's Day -- not because we are trying to steal the day away from the biological mothers, but because of the connection we have to those that share their children with us.
Caring for us came at a cost to mom's career. Workplace attitudes and practices continue to penalize mothers and keep the gender pay gap wide, even as it is narrowing for young women pre-motherhood.
The past 25 years have produced stunning gains for the politics of inclusion. Despite continuing police brutality and persistent glass ceilings, this is a more accepting nation. All of these gains were the fruits of popular struggle, which has to give one some hope that inequality is at last breaking through as a top-tier political issue.
There had always been only us: my mother, my father, my five sisters and four brothers, one uncle, an Armenian aunt -- probably with her own sad story to tell -- and their daughter who married and moved away too soon. Then a void.
As a mother, I felt optimistic 15 years ago that we could stop the horror of burying our children before their time. Yet today it's easy to despair that nothing will change as few in my legislature even bother to stand up to debate for those who are slaughtered by guns. I cannot accept this.
While I'm a huge advocate of millions of women sharing their infertility stories... I strongly believe your Mother's Day misery does not need more company. Save the commiserating for a day that's not all about celebrating moms. But this Sunday? Let's find some cool ways not to be hot and bothered.