I woke up to a message on FB with a link to this Buzzfeed article on Myka Stauffer. Prior to reading the article, I had no idea who she was. It is a reflection on how little I am connected to the world of influencers and their ilk. I read the article a few times. […]
Read more#NAM2018 National Adoption Awareness Month: What Can Adoptive Parents Do?
Each November adoptionland is rife with op-eds, hashtags, conferences, panels and social media blitzes by all members of the triad. #FlipTheScript was all I heard over the past few years. I listened hard and reflected on what I heard. Some years, I wrote about my experience with openness in the context of our lives. This […]
Read moreOpen Adoption: Real Lives. Real Impacts.
My daughter, all of nine and I are standing, facing each other. I hold a tube of cucumber face pack and apply the goo in an even layer all over her face. I avoid her fine blond hair, so pale that I have to look carefully to even see it. Up close, her face is […]
Read moreOpen Adoption Goes Both Ways
“I am bored!” The words seem to resound, bounce off the walls of our home over the weekend. If they were not out biking or prone on the sofa, eyes glazed over, watching something inane on the television, they start like cicadas, a lone voice, growing, amplifying into a resonant chorus until I either yell […]
Read moreEssay: Motherhood, Cleaved
An essay I wrote earlier this year reflecting on how my mothering my children feels cleaved is now online on the Adoptive Families Magazine website. If you are not a subscriber, you can read the piece here: Adoptive Motherhood_Cleaved.
Read moreMotherhood, Cleaved
cleave1split or sever (something), especially along a natural line or grain.“the large ax his father used to cleave wood for the fire” cleave2stick fast to.“Rose’s mouth was dry, her tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth” adhere strongly to (a particular pursuit or belief).“part of why we cleave to sports is that excellence is […]
Read moreWhy I Share My Story
I am crouched behind the door, my large frame cramped on the tiny steps leading down to the basement. Pattu and Laddu are downstairs in the room farthest from where I am and I can still hear the muted sounds from the iPad they are playing with. Ammu is seated on the stairs across from […]
Read moreOn Fears And Expanding Horizons
I park and zip my rather loose fleece jacket as I step out the driver’s seat. I open the passenger door and Ammu and Pattu clamber out. I remind Ammu she needs her light jacket. She pauses as if to challenge me and reaches for her old faded grey fleece. I remember to lock the […]
Read moreA Word Here, A Connection There
In the many years, I have been a blogger, I have often paused to consider what I am doing. I have often been asked why I share so much, put so much of myself online. The questions have made me reevaluate what I do, how I write and how much I share. The breaks have […]
Read moreHypotheticals
“Amma, can we please let Snowflake free?” Ammu pleads with me, still sleepy-eyed at 6:30 AM in the morning. “After you are back from school,” I say. “But amma, imagine if you were stuck in a box for monnnnnths…” she continues, her angst making her drag out the words. “I am not an elf and […]
Read moreOf Struggling With Labels
“I don’t like my fake name” muttered Ammu, my first daughter. I was bent over the stove tossing rice noodles in a base of lemon and sesame oil. The heady aroma of tempered mustard and curry leaves almost made me miss the statement. A part of me always attuned to disturbances in the air peaked […]
Read moreMusings On Adoption
I am Indian and American, they say proudly when we talk about either country. I wonder if I should correct them and let it be. Often while checking boxes on race and ethnicity, I pause, not sure what they mean really. Read the rest of the post on The Huffington Post.
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