That moment when you look at your hands, at your feet; and they look...old. When you look at your body and it seems flabby. When you look at your eyes, and they seem tired. That, my dear Mama, is the moment you realize. That being a mother is the hardest gig you've ever had to do. Harder than anything. Keep on keeping on, soldiers.
Sometimes a body just needs to know. To feel a mother's love. To know that she is there. That she's within arm's length, when story lines grow dark. Becoming ominous, sinister. That she is only a whisper away. When the plot thickens to a portentous climax. When the theatrics prove a bit too much to take.
I hope anyone reading this will take the time to remember just how much every mother loves her children. Now nearly five years gone, my mother's love lives in my heart, her voice comes out in my words, her spirit comes out in my actions, her teachings guide my life. My mother's name was Mary. She taught me to never walk away from someone in need.
More words were exchanged between us two just the day before. Trying to sort out the tangled web of emotions from the days prior. He, with a hoodie pulled over his face. Me, raw emotions and bundled nerves pleading for answers. Both of us feeling raw and exposed. On a road of good intentions, going nowhere fast.
We've all heard them. Those annoying phrases that our parents said to us growing up and now that we're parents ourselves, we've decided to inflict them our own kids. The reality is that the true meanings behind these messages that parents tell their kids are often not as straightforward as they appear to be. Following are the top 10 phrases that parents use on their kids, and what they really mean.
Nasrin Sotoudeh, an award-winning lawyer held unlawfully in Evin Prison since 2010, is on her third day of hunger strike. To show their solidarity with this incredible woman, human rights and online activists have organized a "Tweet Storm" for Friday. The online event is an urgent call to take action for her release.
My mother's life is why I am the feminist I am. From the moment I saw her crying, holding her just-hit face, looking into my four-year-old eyes in helplessness, I knew she was something and I would dedicate my life to making her believe it. I once spoke at an event in which I touched on my mother's story. Imagine my surprise when I was later informed, by a woman no less, that one man in the audience didn't like my saying that I was a feminist and said that those he was with felt the same way. She hoped it would be food for thought for me.
Though my childhood was a fairy tale of sorts, my relationship with my mother has not been without its difficulties. I left home almost 10 years ago and have not been back for more than two weeks at a stretch. Now she wants me to blog with her and I confess it's not my favorite of her many zany ideas.