Be patient with me over the next year, kid. It’s the end of the beginning. Or perhaps it is the beginning of the end.
Sometimes, being a mother sucks. I could list the different ways in which it sucks. I could give you bullet points which highlight varying degrees of suckiness, but one of the things that sucks the most about being a mother is that if I do that, I am bound to get passive-aggressively well-meant comments like…
Ah Mother’s Day. When we’re encouraged to laud the women who taught us how to tie our shoes, eat soup without clinking the spoon against our teeth, and to make beds with the corners tucked in. The woman who examined our research paper possibilities to make sure there was a woman for every man listed….
I am not a religious person. I don’t got to church or temple or mosque. I don’t pray or bend a knee to Goddess or God. But after nearly fourteen years of motherhood I have come to believe in something, something fierce and powerful and universal. Something outside of me, completely out of my control….