Tagged Parenting

When the light is gone

As a man who walks daily with depression and anxiety, I often find myself in the darkness wondering what happened to my life. Dreams and possibilities seem to have fled into a yawning cavern of disappointment and meaningless loneliness. Reality reverberates with a cacophony of anxious voices echoing despairingly in my soul. It is from…

The cost of a lucky penny

I wouldn’t call myself a superstitious person. I love the whimsy behind the notion of a lucky penny, but I’ve never held one as a belief. But last week a penny did make me realize again how lucky I am. A penny that got firmly stuck in my son’s throat. Can anything focus your gratitude…

A heart for justice

The following is a sermon delivered to seminary classmates and Homiletics professor on Tuesday, May 29, 2018. This week I became aware of a new U.S. border policy. Our country is now prosecuting 100% of those who cross illegally into the U.S. in criminal instead of civil court and separating children from their parents. In…

Fearless

I’ve never, ever, by any stretch of the imagination been fearless. In fact, I’ve always had an abundance of caution, too much perhaps, more than the healthy amount that keeps one out of harm’s way. As a child, my mom tells me, I’d always wake up from naps crying—terrified that I was in a room…

If it ain’t broke

I zoomed around the corner, footloose, and fancy free (meaning I only had one of my three kids hanging on me) at Costco. I even started humming a little happy tune when I ran smack into the gridlock of carts. The lines sprawled out like jagged tentacles of a six-headed beast. It was 11am on…

The Blur

It’s been a blur. My reflection in the glass. For the last seven years. So much so that if you asked me what I looked like, I couldn’t tell you. No matter how long I stand here trying to catch a glimpse of who I am, it plays out in pixelated streaks across my mirror.…

Tiny crescents

If I die people will know because of how long my kids’ nails get. These are the 2:33 a.m. reflections of someone who has been up feeding an infant every three hours, on the hour, for weeks. I am truly beyond grateful for this glorious tribe that surrounds us. In fact, there are not words…

Glider parenting

Since becoming a parent, I find myself constantly holding in half of a breath. Sometimes it’s out of frustration, and sometimes it’s from the perception of imminent danger, like when my children are running full tilt down the concrete sidewalk full of uneven cracks just tall enough to trip up exuberant little feet. Even at…

RESTroom

Now is my chance.  I slink along the wall and retreat one small tiptoe at a time towards the open bathroom door and close it slowly without so much as a creak. Sigh. Do I have time to reply to a text?  Can I figure out what the heck “Covfefe” means?  My gut says no…

It’s Not a Costume, It’s a Custom

Roman: “Mamma. I’m half-Indian, right?” Me: “That’s right, buddy.” Roman: “Well, when will I be whole-Indian?” ———- Like so many aspects of parenting, sometime the simplest questions are also the most complex. I am transported back to staring at tiny curls littering the tiled floor. My heart felt heavy, and I tried desperately to suppress tears…

Breathing Fire

“Can I have applesauce?” “How about now?” “Mamma, applesauce?” “May I please have applesauce?” “Mamma, are you listening to me? I want applesauce?” “Can you get me some?” “Mamma?” “Mamma?” “Mamma?” The pain then creeps up my leg like a slow burning wildfire.  With my hands balled into fists and my arms straight at my…

The importance of unseen things

Yesterday a homespun miracle happened: I cut our first artichoke. Artichoke plants take three years to bear fruit and the starts I put in the ground last April weren’t in good shape by this spring. One had died and the other was slug-eaten and sad looking. Another year, I told myself. If it lives. But…

Memory Lane is Paved with Dandelions

I looked at my sweet boy who seemed to be transforming before my eyes.  His bouncing curls had all but disappeared, and his course hair now only yielded a hint of a wave around his cowlick. His ankles peeked through the bottom of his jeans that are now two inches off of the ground, and he…

Blossom(less)

I had big plans to drop my son off at preschool and come home to a freshly brewed pot of coffee and try to write something funny, poignant and thought-provoking for this month’s KINDRED. Perhaps something about how I want to teach my biracial kids to own who they are and speak up for themselves,…

Caring Loudly

“What I hear when I’m being yelled at is people caring loudly at me.” – Leslie Knope   Every toy that my husband, Akash, picks up with a sigh hits me like a mini, personal, attack. My own insecurities kick in:  Another one you missed? Why is it so hard just to put things back…

Parenting is an extreme sport

After I graduated from high school, my mom shared that she had cried herself to sleep every night during my senior year. I was angry that we had moved away from my childhood home in Phoenix to a soulless suburb of Seattle, and I acted out in typical but relatively harmless ways—smoking cigarettes on the…

Sock it to me

“Mamma, are these daddy’s socks?” I continue to stuff crumpled up tissue paper into the recycled gift bag, pretending like I don’t hear.  Maybe he will get distracted, and I will be spared. “MAMMA, ARE THESE DADDY’S SOCKS?!” No such luck. I sigh and turn around. I feel like a teenager who has just sneaked…