Motherhood

Looking straight ahead, I noticed a woman walking toward me. At first glance she looked familiar, on second glance, I froze in my tracks. As the woman continued to walk toward me, I met her gaze and saw the confusion that crossed her features. Then it hit me:  I was looking at a mirror image of myself. Astounded, I realized I looked like my mom.  

Motherhood for a child with disabilities is more than a lifelong vocation; it’s a daily call to love that stretches your heart beyond imagining.

I owe the world an apology. I had no idea that there are actual mom social constructs that I am expected to follow.

Motherhood is anything but sterile and perfect. It is full of life and death, joys and sorrows, smiles and tears. Motherhood will break your heart and mold it into something more.

They're 10 and 13. By now, they should know how to peel a banana, bite an apple, maybe even scramble an egg. Their morning greeting: "What's for breakfast?"

One minute, you're channeling June Cleaver, rejoicing in domestic bliss. Then the whining begins and the next thing you know, you've been possessed by Roseanne.

After more than a dozen years as someone's mom, it's time to make time for myself. The trick is being able to stay up late enough.