Only my kids have heard that bellow. Only they know the volume my voice can reach when I call upon every last ounce of me to carry out anger. When I've reached my limit and I want to be damned sure that everyone in earshot knows it, my children are the only ones around.
I am so excited for my 3-year-old daughter to start ballet class next week. She has been wearing her ballet shoes and leotard around the house and practicing her twirling in anticipation of the big day. She's excited because she adores dancing and pretty outfits. I'm excited for different reasons.
Have you ever scoffed at the Mom who doesn't seem to leave home without her sitter or nanny in tow -- at birthday parties, school drop-off, Mommy and Me class? Maybe you even judged her for it, wondering why she can't go at it alone with her own kids.
I avoided reading Charlotte Kitley's blog post for the reason many of us avoid many things: because I knew it would make me feel something hard, that it would affect me, that it would probably rattle me to the core. It has.
I think we've overlooked the incredible agility, athleticism and dedication that mothers exhibit on a daily basis. That's OK, though, because really, motherhood is much more X-Games than it is the stately and prestigious Olympics, anyway.
Today was one of those days where I questioned every choice I ever made in my 48 years on this planet. I thought back to a time in my life when my house was quiet, and all I had to think about was myself.
On the brink of turning 40, I fell suddenly pregnant with twins -- where "suddenly" is redefined as three years of infertility and one round of IVF. My doctor instructed me to eat 100 grams of protein a day, since twins often come early, underweight, and NICU-bound.
Saying "yes" to her, often means saying "no" to him -- or forcing him to watch from the sidelines. Saying "no" to both seems easier -- more fair -- though I am now seeing that it is the former rather than the latter.
Well one child (in private) that he has always been your favorite and you love him more. Warn him if the others EVER found out, they would be devastated. Repeat with however many kids you have. Bonus: This will be the hot topic of the day at your funeral, when the beans are finally spilled.
The experience of sleep deprivation can overwhelm you like a tidal wave. It's like nothing else matters. Nothing else exists. You can hardly breathe, let alone have a reasonable conversation with another human being.
I wonder how she handled it. I wonder what she did when she was so exhausted that the cry of a newborn brought her to tears, too. I wonder how she handled those nights sitting in the dark rocking her child back to sleep and wondering what happened to her life.
Mothers have relinquished their boys to demarcations of manhood for centuries, whether it be going to college or the armed services. No woman should ever have to release their son to hate -- and that is what our nation has required of Black women for too long in our nation.