I was a mother long before I had children, because I am a Christian. As a Christian, I'm baptized into a family. Not a club. Not a private little 2.5 child nuclear family with two parents and a white picket fence.
The first lesson that my Ima taught me was that family isn't defined by location. And that home isn't permanent and can be created between any four walls. I followed her lead in this and today live a plane flight away. I'm not sure she's thrilled that this a lesson I gleaned. It wasn't an intentional one.
For this Mother's Day, I want to pay tribute to my mom Yvonne. She still has a great influence on my life.
Happy Mother's Day to Ann Walsh Quinn from one of your four biological kids. We are all fortunate and proud to represent the hundreds of your other children who all call you Mom.
She is the backbone for my activism. She is the spice to my spaghetti. She is the starch for my bread, the thread to my sewing machine and the engine to my car. She is my mother, Misty Neergaard.
It starts innocently enough. We come home with our babies and we wonder, "Why did they let me leave with this baby? Don't they know that I don't know what I'm doing?!" And then the long lifetime of parental improvising begins.
If you live nearby, a visit never fails. My favorite mothers' days have been the ones I've spent at home and that feel like any other lazy Sunday morning, but with my kids and my husband and all three dogs lazing around with me.
Mothers aren't just women who spend hours on end in pain in hospitals, but the utmost important force behind every masterpiece, willing to become more with every passing day. Mother's Day is my favorite slice of Thanksgiving.
The separation that existed between my son and I put a damper on my special day. As I read the cards, and looked at the balloon's and stuffed animals that were given to me, my mind and heart were divided by two.
On this Mother's Day, let's decide to strive for a world where every woman can take control of their own body and fertility, experience a safe pregnancy and childbirth, and bring into this world a child who wanted, loved and treated equally.
When I was publishing literary short stories in the 1980s, my absurdly well-read, multilingual mother urged me more than once to write for a wider audience. She was right, though it took me a while to see that.
So we're fighting for our Moms, for their memory, for their daughters, for their granddaughters and every generation to come -- so they can live the full lives they deserve and proudly carry forward the genes of the valiant women our Mothers were.
This week, the House voted along party lines to open yet another Benghazi investigation -- adding to the 13 hearings and 50 briefings already completed. Democrats, who are considering boycotting the hearings, should instead hold alternate hearings on all the real and ongoing problems being ignored, like income inequality, gun deaths (approximately more than 40,000 since Benghazi), and climate change. On Tuesday, climate change was the subject of a very different kind of investigation. The National Climate Assessment -- an 800-page report from 300 scientists -- warned that climate change is already here. "The question," said one lead scientist, "is are we able to meet the challenges, given the growing understanding of how much the climate could change this century?" Unfortunately, the answer for the GOP seems to be: "Benghazi." On an utterly non-partisan note: here's wishing moms everywhere a very happy Mother's Day!
In that delirious conversation, I told my mom that my husband would do a good job of raising our four-year old, and she didn't miss a beat. She told me to 'snap out of it. Planes are built to take on wind shear. We'll be fine.'
Some people are naturally time affluent. My mother, for instance. In fact, when it came to time, she was filthy rich. She moved through her days like a child does, living in the present, stopping, literally, to smell the roses.
In these more modern times, it's as though we've lost that sense of community where we really allow others to help us with the rearing of our children. We have forgotten or are neglecting to include this as one of our assets as a mother.