How I explain race to my mixed-race children
Being mixed has shaped my identity, made me who I am. I’ve always felt different, but in a good way. Sure, I’ve had my share of racist insults and rejection hurled at me, but nothing that I wasn’t able to shake off. Now, I’m raising mixed-race kids and I have the challenge of helping them discover and embrace their unique identity.
Being a mom isn’t my most interesting feature
I love being a mother. I love my son. But he’s just a portion of my life and (no offense, sweet Tavi) not even the most interesting portion. Sure, he’s my highest priority — but so is breathing, and I don’t introduce myself by saying, “Hi, I like air!”
I thought I didn’t want to have a kid… until I realized I do
I’m a perennial University student of literature and philosophy; a vegan, tattooed traveler who, being aunty to six terrific nephews and nieces, felt that I was surrounded by enough kid-love to forgo cooking up any of my own…until now.
Sanctimommy vs. Discombobumom
It feels like many of us deal with an odd schism in our motherhood identities. In myself and the mothers around me, I feel like I see two darker halves lurking behind the awesomeness.
Biracial lesbian seeking known donor of color
At the beginning of my journey, “brown” was at the top of my list. I wanted, as much as it was (im)possible to control, to have a baby with whom I shared a skin color. I have struggled with this desire for a brown child on and off the entire first year of my search for a known donor.
Coping with changes in my aging mothering body
When I searched on the internet, my suspicion was confirmed — age and childbirth are the leading causes of varicose veins in women. They don’t affect your health, are painful for some, and of course, don’t look very pretty.
Finding peace with my new stay-at-home life
All the pregnancy books have one sentence about how difficult it can be transitioning to stay-at-home life… but I didn’t anticipate a full-on identity crisis.
Why our multi-cultural family rocks
When I met the wonderful man who would very soon assist me in bearing a son, and later become my husband, the first thing I thought was “Damn he’s hot,” not “Oh, I wonder what nationality he is.” It just didn’t even occur to me.