Writer and journalist
This weekend in Oakland, Calif., violence led to unity. “More than 500+ crowd in Madison Park, a beautiful multiracial, multigenerational, multi-faith rainbow of folks speaking against violence, including the violence of poverty, deportation, criminalization, and institutional, systemic oppressions.” wrote activist Helen Zia on Instagram about the Feb. 13 Love Our People, Heal Our Communities rally. Hosted by a coalition of …
My latest piece on Scary Mommy is a love story about my kids, who have weathered all the changes and uncertainties of the pandemic by becoming closer.
If you ask me how I am feeling, I will tell you I am marginally okay. In the age of a modern day outbreak, I can’t tell you I am well or fine — those platitudes seem to describe a different, more carefree time before Coronavirus insidiously crept into all our heads. Slowly, freedom has been peeled away. The shapeless …
My daughter’s hair cascades below her shoulders in an ocean of curls. I like to rake my fingers through it to fluff it up into a gravity-defying pompadour. It is a mild obsession, mostly, because it is so different from my stick straight hair. To draw her own self-portrait, she always uses the Burnt Sienna crayon to make curlicues around a …
That’s the funny part of human memory and traditions — we all believe what we want as inalienable truth. During the holiday season, especially, our daily lives can get consumed with habits and traditions passed down from our parents and grandparents. In the intersection of memory, manufactured traditions and commercialized holidays, how do we decide what traditions are real and worthy of carrying on?
Truisms like “kids are our future” pass through our lips, but when kids stand up, adults give them pats on their backs. Oh, that’s so cute. Now go play. We dismiss kids when we should be following their lead.
Direct communication between two human beings is a time-honored and effective form of conflict resolution, but I have fallen into the habit of hiding behind my keyboard and my phone.
A mockingbird family set up residence in our lime tree next to the kids’ toy room. We noticed it while building an elaborate marble maze. “Mom, look!” said Seven, my energetic boy, while everyone else was busy watching the silver marbles slide down the loops and turns. “That bird in our lime tree has a worm in its beak!” In …
So as parents, should we be asking ourselves why a young father would purposely wade into perilous waters with his toddler daughter? What would move him to tell her to trust him, hang on tight, and swallow the fear that was likely coursing through both their bodies?
Nothing has made me feel more marginally okay than being a mom. It is a job that consistently makes me set the bar of achievement higher and higher for myself.