Skip to main content

Mothering

It is a sacred rite
It is a sacred right
It is a maddening career
It is a controversial choosing
It is an extension of your woman-hood
It is a teaching of the totality of Life in too few semesters
It is a heart-wrenching loss of control
It is a seething curse of protective urges
It is a withering of hope with age
It is a longing for timelessness
It is a longing for less time
It is unsettling
It is grounding
It is everything
It is separate
It is pain
It is grief
It is light
It is life
It is love
It is hurt
It is silent
It is deafening
It is hard
It is hardening
It is softening
It is soft
It is.
Mothering is mine.


-Moni Padula
copyright 2016
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

White or Black? Choose ONE.

After a long hiatus from blogging, I was finally inspired to pick up my virtual "pen" and write after reading, crying, and being inspired by an article in the May issue of Ebony magazine. Catapulted in part by the remarks by Halle Berry in a past issue of Ebony regarding her view on her daughter's race, this issue is chock-full of articles regarding mixed persons' views of themselves, their families, their mixed-raced children, and what they regard themselves as racially. The crying ensued as relief-that I am not alone, that others feel as I do, that I can share my feelings without the fear of judgement. That I can be honest about who I see myself as. Because this is about ME, not about others' feelings or perceptions of me. Not about what is "politically correct" regarding my raceor allowing society to push me into a "neat little box" of either Black or White. As an adoptee, my Black parents always made sure I knew what I was mixed with, b
6 comments
Read more

What I Wish I Would've Done

Everyone handles grief differently. I would say I hold it at a distance, tolerating it in small spurts. My Great-Grandmother Donna Langdon died recently. Although I only knew her for a short time (being reunited 6-7 years ago after being adopted), I find myself missing her. I handle death in a very meticulous way. First, I being to tell myself that it will soon happen, sometimes preparing many, many years in advance. I have done this with my grandparents, and I did this with my great-grandmother. Some people say they "don't think about it," but I'm the opposite...I understand it as a normal part of life, I forewarn myself of it's pending coming, and gently remind myself every so often so I can figure out the best way for me to handle the situation. This may seem morbid to you, or insensitive even. Truth is, if I don't think about it, plan on it, I'm not sure how my grief process would end up. For me, death is the ultimate separation in this life. I'
6 comments
Read more

Sometimes, I cry...

Today was terrible. I'm sitting now finally having gotten through it, with "Sex and the City: The Movie" playing in the background, my hair damp from an aromatic shower, and my honesty about to boil over and burn your lap. After a nearly two-week streak of overwhelming joy and happiness, hope for new possibilities in my life, today I crashed, and I mean h-a-r-d. Today mommy-ing was so rough. My son seems to never stop calling me. The cat never stops play-biting. My daughter gets clingy and whiny from getting up too early and wanting to nap before lunch. The long list of things to do on my day off (written by me, of course) is slowly being completed, but my fatigue isn't melting away. In fact, even after 9 hours of sleep, I was so tired today I was disappointed in my body, of all things. This is not an ordinary tired. This is a I've-been-trying-to-figure-out-why-I've-been-fatigued-for-over-a-year-and-my-doctors-don't-seem-to-care-or-know-anything-and-I
2 comments
Read more