Sometimes I Look in the Mirror and See My Mother
For years, I was terrified of becoming my mother. Now, at 35, I see her differently. The addiction. The hurt. The love. The parts of her I’m trying to leave behind, and the parts I hope never leave me.
He Doesn’t Remember. I Do.
He was too young to remember the moments that changed the way I parent him. I wasn’t. Some things happened before we even had a name for what he needed and years later, I’m still carrying memories he never had to keep.
And Apparently My Solution Was: Then We Won’t Have Hair.
Parenting Cristian means sometimes having a perfectly reasonable conversation right up until it takes a hard left. One minute I’m explaining consequences. The next, apparently, neither of us is going to have hair.