Pattu enters through the garage, her backpack sliding off her shoulder and her right hand clutching a patterned paper bag.
An essay I wrote earlier this year reflecting on how my mothering my children feels cleaved is now online on
My hands circles her tiny body, my face pressed against her back as she sits and turns the pages of
I am at the sink rinsing out the small steel cups that are smeared with guacamole. “It could have used
“World’s best mom!” declares the decorated frame on door leading from the garage. Childish scribbles proclaim love. I smile each
Mothering is not just rainbows and unicorns. It is the not so fine moments that do not get vocalized.
“Describe Amma” I coax Pattu in an effort to catch her off guard. “Amma loves me” she answers even as she
Dear Ammu and Pattu, This Sunday is Mother’s Day. It will mark one more year of (s)mothering you with love
“Happy First Mother’s day!” said a couple of messages on Face.book. A link to a customized video in my inbox