"I could feel hot, salty tears coming down my face. I sat and cried silently... I was scrunching myself up against the wall as far as I could. All of a sudden, someone from behind us taps on the guy’s shoulder..."
I am an assistant principal in a middle school (grades 6-8). When I have to search a student's cell phone, I often get sick to my stomach at what I find. It gets worse and worse every year.
Sometimes I can see tears in your eyes and I wonder why you’re sad. I hear you talking to friends and saying you ‘don’t feel like yourself lately.’ I don’t understand because to me you are so perfect.
"I think my stepdaughter might have assumed I changed my shirt because I’m old (in her eyes), and old moms don’t wear 'sexy' stuff. Or maybe it was because I was married to her dad and didn’t need to look sexy anymore. And while it was true that I respected her father, that was just the tip of the iceberg."
I am amazed that I am old enough to be writing this letter. When you were young, and sitting in the grocery cart while we shopped, people would stop me and comment on how cute you were and I would smile and thank them. They would often look at me and say, “Don’t blink. It goes fast.”
There'd be no fights with daddy of who does more. No interrupted conversation. No scrambling for date nights and bribing someone to watch you so we can love each other again.
The problem is our society tells us that our babies should be sleeping peacefully all the time. If they are not, then there’s something wrong and we need to do something about it.
