I’ve discovered a new Zumba studio. It’s not full of yuppie grandmas who wear their yoga pants to Target. I’m actually the only gringa there- it’s all latina women who come every day, sometimes multiple days a week. Here is what I look like after class: It likely comes as no surprise to you that I’m the … Continue reading
It’s no surprise that children’s hospitals can be really depressing places to be. After taking guardianship of The Baby, he was (still) in the NICU for about a month. It was my first time spending any length of time at a children’s hospital and, despite the hospital’s best efforts, it could get very grim. One … Continue reading
This probably sounds like no big deal to most, but a few weeks ago, I was invited to a girl’s night that started at 7:30pm. For someone who is usually in bed by 9:30, this was a risk but I was prepared to take it. I made a ginormous fruit salad (for a girl’s night … Continue reading
“You going on a picnic?” the Kroger employee asked me as I threw multiple pre-made sandwiches into my basket. “No,” I laughed and then told her that I was going down to a bus station in Downtown Dallas to meet immigrants on their way to family and friends after being separated by Immigration and Customs … Continue reading
Last summer, a friend and I met up with our kids at a splash park, the not-quite-pools that have glorified sprinklers and rubberized floors so no one slips. Her daughter is a good deal younger than The Baby, but we met up anyway because he was just a little sack of potatoes and didn’t care … Continue reading
The first asylee I ever met was a man from Eritrea. We’ll call him Ben. Ben had flown to Central America and come into the US across the Mexican border. He claimed asylum when he got here. I met him when he’d already been here about two years waiting on a judge to hear his … Continue reading
{Before inciting a literal mommy war, let me say that I do not care if your children call you mommy. If tiny hands reach for you and wail “Mommy!” as you remove the peanut from their nose, fine. If you refer to your own mother as mommy, even if you are 50, fine. You do … Continue reading
