"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."
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.
