As a young child, I would sit on the side of the bathroom sink and gaze up as she transformed into a black beauty. It always began with two squares of stacked toilet paper. She would stick the eyeliner wand in, stir, and wipe it twice on the little white cushion, making that black X … Continue reading For My Daughter: A Manifesto
It is with our swollen bellies and breasts, our mental concerns crowned as frailties, our mistaken identity as "just a mom" that we march into combat. Our underestimation serves us well.
It's that time of year again. Mommy blogs are flooded with grief over their babies going to school. And it's true. Some of us mourn as our children go out into the world. I am one of them. Five years. Five years - the time I have spent mostly every day with my little sidekick. … Continue reading Lars Isn’t So Little Anymore
I can't divide the Bible into wrathful God and peaceful God. For one, I wouldn't know where to place the line. I can't deny what I've read in the Bible, as a child and now as an adult. If Bible stories were made into movies, I would not let Larsen watch any of them. I wouldn't fast forward through the violent scenes just to get to the good parts. I wouldn't push play at all.
It's a distraction from the real work. A parent is not only a person who feels grief intimately but also someone who must watch their child experience it too, which means feel it all over again. Kids, parents - people in general - need open arms. Space. A Witness. Someone to hold us through experiencing pain. Someone to echo back to us what we said we are feeling. Someone to give words to our emotions and let them float around the room, watching in awe with us.
I know it feels like you are pulling 9gs out there. You feel dizzy, overwhelmed. You feel pressure beyond what you have ever known since having that baby. You feel alone. But take it one day at a time. Investigate, experiment, listen. Soon, you'll be home.
I cringe every time I overhear the words "Be careful!" at the park or grocery store. It seems we parents love this phrase. It makes us feel like we are doing our job - helping and protecting our kids. But there's another phrase I used to say all the time in my English class that … Continue reading Be Specific
Today Lars and I rode bikes, we played superheroes at the park, we ate Chick-fil-A and emptied out his backpack on the carpet by the front door. He jumped on the mini-trampoline and counted to nine: “1,2,3,4,5,8,7,9.” We played “Jet Larsen.” I checked his wings for damage and fed him “jet fuel.” In the moments … Continue reading The Superhero Power of Presence
I have taught my son a new lesson. It was perfect - it only took me three years. I’ve taught him to undermine his own feelings and seek perfection. I've taught him to miss the good and go straight to evaluation mode. One day I asked him if he would like to explain what happened … Continue reading Praising Lars
The doctor was a short, round Asian man, who never spoke directly to me, only to my mother. He would incessantly clear his throat. His eyes looked everywhere but my face. He began with taking my temperature, then asking me to breathe in and out while he listened to my heart. I was ten. My … Continue reading The Parent of Two