Real Moms
I must say, I had no idea how fun it would be to open up this blog and see comments, -- even if most of them are from myself. It's like walking along a shore and finding messages in a bottle, except the messages are in response to whatever thoughts you sent out to the horizon the day before.
As it happens, I have been "tagged" by Zany Mama at http://zanymothering.blogspot.com/ to finish the sentence "Real moms..."
A cascade of images has been running through my mind for the last few days. They come from everywhere, an NPR broadcast about civilian casualties in Iraq, the ragged, needy kids I see at work, The tired, patient women I see at bus stops and cleaning offices, a documentary about Pinochet, the young Mormon women of this part of the country. I can't think of how to fit it all into my bottle, but the time has come to cast upon the waters.
Real moms pick up the dog poop every Saturday, even though they promised.
Real moms make dinner every night, even if it's pancakes, even with morning sickness.
Real moms get dressed and go to Walmart at 10:00 pm, because someone just remembered at 9:30 pm that they needed reindeer shoes (what could those be?) for their performance in the school Christmas Musical tomorrow.
Real moms put 4 shirts on their first graders when it gets cold, just in case they take off their jackets when they get to school.
Real moms send their kids to live with relatives in a foreign country so they can learn English and have a better life, even though they know it will be years before they see them again.
Real moms sit on an aluminum bleacher for 2 hours 4 times a week instead of watching Trading Spaces.
Real moms go to work in a foreign country holding and comforting other people's children so they can provide for their own.
Real moms climb up on the gurney to calm the baby down, even though she herself is injured and bleeding.
Real moms always cry when the State comes to take away the kids. They never forget and they never forgive themselves, -- at least none of the ones I've met.
Real moms run their hands over the bones of a young male recovered from a mass grave, just so they can touch the baby one last time.
As it happens, I have been "tagged" by Zany Mama at http://zanymothering.blogspot.com/ to finish the sentence "Real moms..."
A cascade of images has been running through my mind for the last few days. They come from everywhere, an NPR broadcast about civilian casualties in Iraq, the ragged, needy kids I see at work, The tired, patient women I see at bus stops and cleaning offices, a documentary about Pinochet, the young Mormon women of this part of the country. I can't think of how to fit it all into my bottle, but the time has come to cast upon the waters.
Real moms pick up the dog poop every Saturday, even though they promised.
Real moms make dinner every night, even if it's pancakes, even with morning sickness.
Real moms get dressed and go to Walmart at 10:00 pm, because someone just remembered at 9:30 pm that they needed reindeer shoes (what could those be?) for their performance in the school Christmas Musical tomorrow.
Real moms put 4 shirts on their first graders when it gets cold, just in case they take off their jackets when they get to school.
Real moms send their kids to live with relatives in a foreign country so they can learn English and have a better life, even though they know it will be years before they see them again.
Real moms sit on an aluminum bleacher for 2 hours 4 times a week instead of watching Trading Spaces.
Real moms go to work in a foreign country holding and comforting other people's children so they can provide for their own.
Real moms climb up on the gurney to calm the baby down, even though she herself is injured and bleeding.
Real moms always cry when the State comes to take away the kids. They never forget and they never forgive themselves, -- at least none of the ones I've met.
Real moms run their hands over the bones of a young male recovered from a mass grave, just so they can touch the baby one last time.
posted by zulhai | 9:35 PM
8 Comments:
I like your blog entries, need to link to it but I can't or probably don't know how. please link to mine: www.izzonline.blogspot.com
i will keep trying to link to yours - with your help.
I am always amazed by how different these "real moms" posts are. They really are stunning and beautiful. Thank you
izz:
Welcome! And congratulations on the new baby. I read your blog and was reminded of an album I used to have, "Soweto Never Sleeps." I guess that is true in your house, anyway. As for the linking, I have no idea, something to do with the template, I'm sure. If I find out, I'll advise. How did you find me, BTW?
srh:
Thank you! What about defining fatherhood?
Wow! You have a way of not answering the simplest questions.
You have me totally confused. Are you (have you been) living a double life? I wasn’t going to leave any comment because I can’t relate at all, but I’m curious. Are you talking about yourself? Leaving kids to go to a foreign country? Sending kids to learn English? State removing your kids? Is this is getting more mysterious or what?
Beautiful. I love the movement from mundane to dramatic.
I knew I couldn't wait to read yours!
Hi bijan:
It's not always about me, you know! Sometimes I come across something, and recognise it and think, "there, but for the grace of God, go I." I was thinking of the Mexican kids I see in my practice, who's parents somehow get them the papers to live here, either with relatives, or maybe there is some kind of underground payola railroad. After a while, you see the same names/phone numbers of "parents" over and over, or the kids can't spell or remember their names, that kind of thing. Not to mention all those Iranian teenage boys sent overseas to keep them out of jail or the war. Did you notice in Persopolis how the mother's hair had turned gray while the daughter was gone? Anyway, I tag you! Real fathers...?
izz:
Here is some info, go into blog profile and into "layout" and then select "add a page element," click on "link list" and then "add to blog." That will then prompt you to add the url and the title of each link, etc.
P.S. consider yourself also tagged!
Thanks! I hope you agree that this blogging interest is very much about the blogger as well as his/her blog stories. I don’t see any harm if you tell me what city you live in and whether your three kids are half Iranian and have you remarried? (husband #1 verses #2.) So, I don’t consider my curiosity out of place or invasion of your privacy
This is just a comment from one comment lover to another.
I read your blog every opportunity I get, and I love it.
:)
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