"There will always be the older white woman in Walmart who stared at us with sheer disgust, or the African-American mother who looked at us and just shook her head.”
“This is the story of a little girl’s love of a green dress, a mother who tries to instill independence, and how those two things came together in the most epic and brilliant combination possible."
I want there to be a word for the vulnerability you feel as you lay there just lying to yourself about what's to come. A word for the way your heart goes from fluttery to thudding in your ears. A word for that one last moment of hopefulness before the world comes crashing down. Why isn't there a word?
I stared at her and she held out her arms for me. Me. The scary monster. She wanted me. The same person who frightened her, she was seeking comfort from.
If that sounds dramatic, it just might be. Or perhaps it’s not. And that’s the dang conundrum that’s got us parents so perplexed about the true ‘right’ thing to do.
I see you outside when our kids are playing. I see you at the pool in the summer. I see you at the bus stop all school year-long. But sadly, I don’t know you as well as I’d like. Nevertheless, I know you’ve got a problem with porn. Why? Because it takes one to know one…
"‘Please find someone else,' I begged my fiancé. I just can’t do it. I’m done. My body always fails our babies. Something is wrong with me and I just can’t do it, I’m sorry."
"We spoke and I don't think you fully understood how your children and their behavior affected me, so I am writing this.. maybe it will find its way to you and you will know who you are."
