'Tis the season to be gratfeul

I have to confess that I am one of those people who loves the Christmas season. 

I love the songs, the lights, the atmosphere.

I love decorating my tree and my living room.

I love planning and making our Christmas meal. 

I love the meaning behind the holiday, the hopefulness and joyfulness of it.

The only thing I am not so crazy about is excess.

I was in the waiting room at the doctor's office the other day and a shopping channel was on.

They were presenting wallets and some kind of electronic board games and when there was a commercial break, more stuff was being advertised.

Everything labeled with "Hurry" and "Will arrive before Christmas" and "Make sure you get this". 

After watching this for about 5 minutes I felt like it was just all too much. 

For me, the more these companies force their ads and products on me, the more I feel like I don't want to buy anything.

Free shipping on everything.

Buy two get one free. 

Ten percent off if you order before midnight.

And I just want to go sit on a bench in the park and forget the whole thing. 

So instead of making lists of what I want, I've decided to make one with what I already have that I am grateful for.

Turns out the list is endless and I really don't need any more stuff. 

I'll give you my top 5:

1. Peaceful times

2. Healthy family

3. Warm house

4. Food in the fridge

5. Comforts of the 21st century (my washing machine, indoor plumbing, laptops, working car etc). 

In light of all this, I've decided to give my daughter one present for Christmas.

Just one. 

I am happy I have the means to offer it to her (it's a small doll house, for those who are wondering).

Of course, friends and family want to shower her with presents which is a great blessing. 

But I will give those to her a bit later because otherwise she would just go into a package opening frenzy and would not even be able to enjoy all of them. 

When I was growing up, some of my Christmases were poor. 

We always had some kind of presents and a tree though.

Later, my parents could afford more expensive gifts and I remember getting video cassettes or Polly Pockets and Barbie dolls. And I loved all of those.

But I also remember receiving more modest presents like a bag of oranges and sweets and gingerbread men from church and I couldn't care less about them because they could not compare to all of the stuff that was waiting for me under the tree. 

It's important to help our children foster a sense of gratefulness.

To protect them from becoming desensitized by great amounts of stuff that they receive continuously and which make them unable to be appreciative of what they have.

If my daughter goes to the doctor, she gets stickers and coloring books.

If we eat out, she gets crayons.

If we go to church, there is always a nice person who brings her a teddy bear or a lollipop.

I think she got something almost every week for the past few months. 

So I try to talk to her about giving and donating and counting the things at the end of the day that we are grateful for. 

Of course, she is not even three but I feel like you can't start too early. 

It is so very easy to get caught up in the shopping spree. 

There's nothing wrong with wanting to give something to your loved ones for Christmas. 

Some gifts are simply timeless like books and games and CD's, tickets to various shows, markers and so on.

I have to admit that it's difficult for me to not buy my daughter a gift that I am sure she will like.

And the things she likes right now like figurines and doll stuff are really inexpensive. 

(Although when I see just how inexpensive they are and see where they are made, I immediately picture some wretched laborers slaving away for a few pennies so that my kid can take one look at the toy and then throw it in the corner).  

So I always think that it is better for her to have one meaningful gift than many many things she won't even know what to do with.

In other words, it is better for her if I don't buy her many toys. 

And then I can spend that money on an experience instead, like visiting a museum or taking a one-day trip to a nearby lake. Making memories.  

I wish you a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year! May it be filled with memorable moments that you and your child can talk about many years from now!

Why the terrible twos are not that terrible

Today my two-year-old daughter decided to go against her better judgement (and by "her", I mean "mine") and skip her nap. 

She tossed and turned and talked and giggled but, alas, sleep remained elusive.

So, basically, the second half of the day kind of...sucked. 

There were tantrums and there was whining and exasperation. 

And a lot of deep breaths on my part. 

There were also beautiful moments, idyllic some might say or cliche, others might think.

Like when we were sitting under the tree, with the sun warming our backs and just digging around the fallen leaves with a couple of sticks. 

Reading books.

Playing tickle monster.

Silly stuff we both enjoy.

And then I do something completely stupid and, after reading some random article online or watching a youtube video, I look at the comment section.

And what I see is painful.

Hateful words, pointless arguing and more hatred.

People disagree about everything, it seems and, protected by anonymity, they lash out at anyone who doesn't share their views.

I close the laptop and feel my peace slip away and fear creeping in.

How on earth am I supposed to raise a child in a world so filled with hatred and indifference?

It's not just some silly comments I am worried about, of course.

I am worried about everything.

Everything this world wants to offer or impose upon me and especially my child, all the voices always arguing, always screaming, always disagreeing. 

I don't know many things but the few things I do know about what is important in life, I've learned the hard way.

I am still surprised I ended up as I did.

It could have been a lot worse considering some of the naive and reckless decisions I've made along the way.

I wish I could take all that hard earned knowledge and give it to my daughter.

I can only hope she will listen to me as she grows up and not to the myriad of other voices that will lie to her in order to get her money, her vote, her support, her heart and soul.

I can only hope she will trust me as she grows more and more into who she is.

I know the time will come when she will argue with me, she will question me and the values, morals and ideas that I believe in, she will defy me and even deliberately disobey me about crucial matters. 

I hope I can still offer her guidance, even then.

Especially then.

But right now, I need to handle tantrums and whining.

Tantrums about getting dressed or undressed, about bedtime, about getting into the carseat.

Whining about getting more chocolate, reading one more book, staying 5 more minutes at the playground.

And, in all honesty, I prefer all this.

It seems so easy compared to arguing with her about any kind of filth that is out there and which she might feel tempted to embrace.

Right now she is little and innocent even in her anger and her tantrums. 

She is overtaken by pure joy simply by me giving her a peach or taking her to pet the animals. 

It's so easy to make her happy and still quite easy to comfort her.

She's an open book.

I pray I never do anything to make her close herself up to me.

That would truly be terrible as the mothers of many teens will tell you. 

In the meantime, we need to work on our nap routine.

And I'll keep improving my tickle monster skills. 

Mommy's hidden enemy: great expectations

You know how they say you cannot control anybody's behavior except your own.

Act don't react.

Stuff like that.

It turns out, this kind of mentality is crucial when you're a parent.

Sometimes I get lost in my own little world, imagining how my daughter is going to love the zoo or hate the mall or sleep during a long car ride.

The truth is, I can make an educated guess about her reaction to something, but I can never be sure.

And because of that, it's best to keep my expectations in check.

Example.

When my daughter was one and a half, we decided to go to the pool.

It was a lovely pool, clean, simple, blue...that kind of thing.

I bought some swim diapers, sunscreen, packed our bag with sunhats and snacks and toys and wipes and changing clothes and towels and a sippy cup... a whole lot of stuff.

I was giddy with excitement, remembering how I had seen other moms with tiny ones cooling in the pool, twirling in the water, giggling and enjoying each other's company.

When we get there, it does not look good.

My toddler starts protesting immediately.

She does not like the pool or the water or the toys or anything really.

There's another mommy in the water with an 8 month old who is having the time of her life.

I look at my own offspring, all grumpy, dissatisfied and winy. 

I'm not giving up so quickly!

I talk to her about how great's it's going to be, how mommy will take care of her and how we're going to swim together and chase her favourite ball in the pool.

I pick her up and in we go.

And....no. 

My daughter fusses at first and all my attempts to soothe her fail.

In less than a minute, the fussing turns into crying, then into high-pitched screaming. 

People are looking.

Some are frowning.

Some are irritated.

Some are simply baffled by the volume such a tiny human can produce, a bafflement I have gotten used to by now.

We go out, she eats her crackers and, now deflated, I decide to give it one more try.

We go into the water, she screams, we come out of the water and we go home.

Should have bought the smaller pack of swim diapers. 

Fast forward a month later, on a Saturday, we decide to hit the zoo.

It's all messed up, we leave too late, soon it will be nap time, the traffic is slow, it's all crowded.

I am cranky, trying to prepare myself for the disaster that's ahead of us.

I am already sorry we spent money on the tickets.

But then 30 minutes pass and it's all good.

And then another 30 minutes.

My daughter, although tired, is thrilled.

She wants to see it all.

She loves the flamingos and the elephants.

She is excited about the kangaroos.

I am amazed.

I actually take courage and start enjoying it myself.

We have lunch, we visit more animals and as the zoo announces it is now 6 pm and they need to close, my daughter falls asleep in my arms as we are on our way out. 

I've learned I simply cannot burden my child (and myself) with expectations of blissful trips and visits.

I've learned to handle my disappointment when things don't go as planned. 

Sometimes it's hard but that's not her fault. 

And, most importantly, I've learned that we might not have a good time all the time but we definitely will on a different occasion, when mommy might not even expect it. 

Dear unborn baby

Dear unborn baby,

I am writing to you to tell you I am sorry you can't be here today.

I am truly sorry you were not given the chance. 

The world is a lesser place because you are not here anymore.

Your absence echoes in my ears when I have the patience to listen.

I am sorry your mommy decided not to have you.

I know you don't understand why. 

She thought this was best for her or you or both of you. 

Yes, I know she should have protected you and cherished you and took on the world for you.

Regardless of her reasons, I want you to know this:

It's not your fault.

You are truly wonderful and innocent. 

You are unique, valuable and important. 

I know you were safe for a while.

Tiny and eager to live. 

Here, in the big world, we have tiny bugs as big as you were who fight with all their being for their life. 

I know you were even more eager than that. 

You were in the best place ever.

Mommy's tummy.

I know it hurt when they took you out.

I know you were scared.

I am sorry, little baby.

I wish I could have snapped my fingers and taken you in.

We have a house, enough space, a two year old who thinks she has it all figured out, a pear tree and lots of pretty flowers.

I am sorry you will not know of such things.

I am sorry your tiny body was treated disrespectfully, thrown out or sold for money.

I assure you, angel, many people would have been proud and blessed to be your mommy and daddy, people who have been waiting for a long time to have a family.

There are folks who are trying to help, who want this to stop. 

Who know you are the next generation and we can't act like we can just wipe you out, like we are the only ones on this planet.

Not everybody cares, not everyone understands and I am sorry for that too. 

The most difficult thing in the world is to change someone's heart. 

I wish this world was perfect. Mommies could just have their babies and raise them and love them.

But it's not, little one. 

It's a very strange place where people argue and discuss and attack each other and insult each other and they cannot agree about you and who you are. 

I am sorry nobody will get to hold you.

I am sorry you won't have a name.

I am sorry you are labeled as a "fetus", "product of conception" or other terms.

I am sorry you won't grow up to be a painter, a teacher, a sales representative or whatever you would have liked to be. 

I am sorry the world has decided you are not needed, you are disposable.

You are needed. You were needed. 

You are important. 

You are perfect, a true biological miracle in whom a whole molecular and cellular universe worked unceasingly just to create your beating heart at 5 weeks. And that was just the beginning. 

As I write this, my daughter is sleeping in her crib.

She has 2 pillows, 3 baby blankets, a ball and a plastic bottle that she demands every night before going to bed.

She is the best thing in my life and I don't deserve her. 

Having her is superior to everything else. 

Everything pales in comparison.

I am sorry you were not given the chance to life.

To show the world and the people around you what a blast you could be. 

It will end one day. I hope to see you then. 

I am sending you all my love and I pray every day that God blesses you, your mom and dad and every little baby who was not given the chance to just be.

For anyone who wishes to pray for the little ones who never had a voice, here is a prayer:

Heavenly Father, 
Thou hast given us the gift of freedom 
to love and to follow in Thy ways and commands. 
Some parents choose to abuse this freedom 
by destroying the gift of life 
which Thou hast given to their offspring. 
Please forgive those who destroy human life 
by aborting their unborn babies. 
Give these unborn children the opportunity 
to enjoy Thee for all eternity, 
if it according to Thy ordinance. 
Assist me in being one in solidarity with Thy little ones 
by taking to heart the words of Thy Son, 
"whatever you did for one of these least brothers of Mine, 
you did for Me." (Mt. 25:40) 
Therefore, allow me today, Father, 
to adopt spiritually an unborn child 
and to offer my prayers, works, 
joys and sufferings for that little one, 
so that child will be able to be born and live 
for Thy greater honor and glory. 
We pray this in Jesus' name, 
in union with the Holy Spirit one God forever and ever.

.

Why reading too much parenting advice can be bad for you

I read a couple of parenting articles online 3 weeks after my daughter was born.

I was trying to find something to help ease her colic and reduce the amount of crying that was going on in our house.

As the months went by and some issues resolved themselves, while new ones kept popping up, I kept reading books and articles recommended by friends and family who swore these were awesome materials with real, useable advice.

As I read on, everything made sense.

Each book was logical and nicely written and very convincing.

And each one would contradict the one before and still be logical and nicely written and very convincing.

There was not much agreement among them.

Except for one thing: whatever you are doing, you are sending a message to your child with your behaviour and your words and potentially damaging your child unless you do things the "right" way.

And the "right" way changed with each article and book I read.

I'll give you some examples.

1. Time-outs

A lot of the advice out there says time-outs are a good and gentle approach when used correctly.

And then there is the other camp that says a time-out is symbolic abandonment, rejecting your child because of the "bad behaviour" and withdrawing your love.

Kids learn nothing from it. 

They think about how unfair it is and not about how to make things right. 

2. Giving choices

It's good to give a child choices. Let her choose between two things (not more) so she feels that she has some control, some authority in this world in which she is rather small. The blue shoes or the sandals, an apple or a mango, cherry or vanilla yoghurt, sitting or standing in the stroller, going to the park or the zoo etc.

Or not.

Letting a child choose between things all the time tires her and also makes her feel entitled to choices all the time, even in situations when there are no other options. According to some experts, it's better for mom or dad to make most choices so the child knows they are in charge, she can depend on them and that, ultimately, what they say goes, there's no negotiating for every trip and every food and every pair of shoes.

3. Say "yes" to your child as much as you can

This way, she will learn to say a lot of "yes" to you in return and she won't have a meltdown when you say "no" because you will only say it when it really matters.

In our case, this did not work out so well.

My saying a lot of yes, resulted in my daughter demanding more and more.

More toys to take on a ride, more stuff to go to bed with, more stories etc. and all in all more mess. And consequently, more need for me to set more limits (two toys for the ride, 3 bed time stories and so on and so forth).

Also, when I had to say "no", my daughter did not seem to be able to handle it without rolling on the floor.

So much for that theory.

4. Counting to 3

A great option. It gives the child a warning and some time to make the right decision on his own.

Not according to other experts.

Who say counting to 3 is harsh and threatening. Like a terrible consequence will follow.

5. Consequences

Basically, they suck. They are a fancy word for punishment.

"Stop it or there will be a consequence!".

Unless you are reading a different book that says consequences are the best way to teach a child that his decisions have certain results, good or bad.

And then of course, there are whole books just about efficient and inefficient consequences. 

6. Defiance and tantrums

These are the child's way of asking for help.

His emotions are out of whack and he doesn't understand what's happening so he lashes out.

Connect with the child. Talk to him about his feelings. Hug him. Tell him what he is feeling now is anger or disappointment or whatever and it is ok (but at the same time explain that hitting when angry is not ok).

Let him know this is all normal and he is not a bad person because he is angry or upset.

Or you could go with another approach that says talking to the child all the time and analyzing his feelings is counterproductive. Tell him to "Knock it off! We don't hit people!" and then give him a time-out to cool down and get himself together again. Long speeches and explanations are tiring and difficult to follow for a little one. Don't be harsh, don't yell but be firm and in charge. The child needs it. With too much feeling analyzing, he will just miss the whole point that hitting is bad.

7. Being there for your child

Be there. Help when you can. All the way, throughout all the years.
This way, your child will have a solid foundation to grow on and rely on.
He knows he can turn to you and you will be there.
He will not have memories of a criticizing mother or an absent father, of a parent who "just didn't get it" and didn't take pains with helping him out about the things that were important to him. Which is great.
Or not.
Because apparently, overparenting is a thing and it's not pretty.
When kids don't experience any discomfort because mommy and daddy always help him out, he will feel lost as an adult. He will feel empty and lacking basic problem-solving skills, resilience or perseverance. 

These are just a few examples. The list is endless.

You will find any parenting advice you can think of and the opposite of that and then the opposite of that.

The result of which is the post-modern super-confused mother who sees her kid refuse to get in the carseat (again) and wonders why any of this crap isn't working.

Is it me?

Is it the "parenting method"?

Is it the kid and her personality?

It is the age/a phase?

All of them?

A combination of these?

I remember once telling another mom whose daughter is close in age to mine, that my kid had started with the tantrums right before turning 2. 

I told her I was at a loss because the meltdowns were so intense with my daughter banging her head against things in her anger.

The other mommy was shocked. Her daughter did no such things.

"You can't let her do that.", she said. "Tell her it's not nice. It's not allowed". 

It was not good advice, of course. 

But many of these books written by so-called experts contain advice that is either generally bad or bad for your situation. 

I don't read stuff like this anymore.

I scoff when people on facebook without kids argue about how bad parenting makes kids defiant when all they need is a bit more love, a bit more understanding. How parents just need to talk about feelings or man-up and be more severe.

When it comes to parenting, everyone seems to be an expert.

Everybody has theories and methods and ideas. 

And the easiest thing to do in this world is to label someone as a "bad parent" because they give time-outs.

Or because they don't give time-outs, depending which camp you are in. 

Sometimes nothing works. And that's what you can't read anywhere.

You can turn yourself into a puppy joggling psychologist in a princess costume and your kid still won't listen or throw a fit.  

On bad days I tell myself this. 

Today, it's just not working. 

And that's fine. 

I tell myself this before the urge to feel guilty sets in.

Or the urge to read another parenting book.

The heart of the matter

I usually write about the day to day life, joy and struggles of motherhood.

I don't dive into difficult, sensitive, complex subjects.

Like the right to own a gun.

Or the real price of cheap clothes.

Or high fructose corn syrup.

Or abortion.

This time, however I decided to write my thoughts on the latter.

These are just that.

My thoughts.

My opinions.

You can agree or disagree.

I am past that point of getting into endless debates, discussing various scenarios to prove one point or the other. 

I used to believe abortion was ok. 

After all, life is tough and hard and there are so many situations when expecting a child is the worst news you can possibly get or at least that's what you think.

Then, a few years ago I saw the movie "The Silent Scream" where an abortion is actually filmed with the help of the ultrasound.

I remember I broke down and cried.

A feeling of dread and indescribable pain came over me combined with a strong desire of protecting little ones.

It has never left me.

It only grew stronger over time. 

When I was pregnant with my daughter after a miscarriage, I was terrified I would lose her too. 

The doctors did extra tests and ultrasounds to make sure things were ok.

Which meant I got my first ultrasound very early. 

At 6 weeks and 5 days. 

My husband and I went in and I was scared, worried and a complete mess.

But things went well.

And on the screen, there it was, the thing we had been hoping and praying to see.

The baby's heart.

Beating away wildly with great passion and determination. 

I still have the picture. 

The next ultrasound was at 8 weeks.

Things were good.

The doctor jokingly said "Your gummy bear is just fine".

Because that's what she looked like back then with her tiny arms and legs. 

Sometimes when my daughter is asleep, nursing peacefully I lay my hand on her chest.

Her heart still strong, beating away, filled with life.

The same heart we saw more than 3 years ago.

I have no doubt in my mind that the tiny thing we saw at the beginning and at every consultation afterwards was my child.

She was just very little back then but already she had everything she needed to grow just like she does now when she is 2.5 years old. 

She had human DNA, a human's heart and at 8 weeks, a human head and limbs. 

Many will say a child is not a child at that stage.

Other words are used.

Like fetus and pregnancy.

Anything to distance ourselves from the reality of a "baby", "child" or "tiny human".

Because if we didn't, abortion would be unbearable. 

Many will say at this stage, the fetus is not a human.

But how can we trust our current definition of what being human means?

We used to define slaves as non-human.

Coloured people.

Jews.

Twins.

Homosexuals. 

Even women.

At some  point in history, all these categories were considered sub-human or non-human.

So now we have another category, the unborn child. 

And we're supposed to believe the arguments because...?

The relationship between a mother and a child is like nothing else in this world.

My daughter is my child, she lives in my house and eats my food (most of the time, anyway).

But she is not my person. I don't own her.

I never have.

She is just very very close to me at the beginning when she is in my tummy.

And then slowly she becomes more and more detached from me over the years.

My body is not only mine, it is hers as well during pregnancy.

Letting her be part of me is beautiful.

It is the most one can give another human being who is as defenseless as it can possibly be.

And the real test of being human is just this: how we treat those who depend on us completely, whom we have nothing to gain from, who cannot repay us, whom we can do anything we please with because we are all they know. 

They count on us so completely, it scares us. 

We have no choice but to show them who we really are.

We don't need to hide behind social norms, politeness, masks, flattery, give-and-take games. 

They just want us. 

Children.

Animals.

And sometimes the elderly. 

We can be cruel to them.

We can deny them anything, including life itself.

They cannot fight back. 

Or we can take them in.

Accept them.

Accept that life with them is worth more than life without them.

They ask a lot from us and by giving it to them, we will become more that we have ever thought possible. 

We have one more heart in the world we can love and who will love us back, one more heart to help heal when broken and who will help ours heal.  

May all hearts be blessed, big and small!

Blaming Mom

A couple of days ago I talked to my grandmother on skype.

She is 87 years old and quite amazing I might add.

She is my dad's mom and the only grandparent I have left.

She is energetic and kind and just really sweet.

We talked about a lot of things but one issue she mentioned really got me thinking.

It's a story I have heard many times before, as older people like to repeat the parts of their lives they find important.

She told me again about the time her mom (my great-grandmother) forced her to eat tomato soup because that was the rule at the table and how she got really sick after that.

And how her own grandmother came to her rescue by making it clear that forcing someone, especially a child, to eat like that is unacceptable.

My great-grandmother has been dead for 20 years.

Still, my grandma remembers stories like this very vividly and feels the need to tell them to me once in a while.

When I was little and would visit my grandma and my great-grandma who lived very close, I remember noticing how my grandma would be slightly irritated by her mom. Sometimes she would snap at her.

Then, when my great-grandma died, my grandma was devastated.

I recall her crying at the funeral, overcome with terrible grief and sadness.

I was 8 or 9 years old at the time and I clearly remember thinking "Why is she so sad? She was always so annoyed by her, by the things that she had hurt her with while growing up and afterwards".

There was a similar pattern with my mom and her own mother.

Whenever she came over to talk to my mom there would be arguments.

Not real loud fights or anything but arguments nonetheless.

My mom would be irritated and even angry.

I know many of my mom's stories about the ways her mom had failed her, hurt her or disappointed her and some of those are not nice stories at all hence why she remembers them.

Then, when my maternal grandma died and I came home from college for the funeral, I found my mom in an unrecognizable state.

She was a shadow of herself.

I did not understand why she was so devastated when they never seemed to get along and there were those deep wounds that never seemed to heal.

Fast forward to the present day, I so happened to bump into some articles about motherhood that somehow all ended up about being the shortcomings of different mothers.

An article about how someone sat on a train and was shocked to see a mom read a book and not interact with her 10 year old son.

A discussion about a movie and how the mom was to blame because she had encouraged the child to put on a happy face in a difficult situation (thus indirectly prompting the child to repress some emotions).

Another article about how someone called the police on a mom who was trying to strap her screaming tantruming toddler in a stroller.

All this made me think about my own mom.

Do I blame her for things?

Yes, I do.

Do I remember vividly the times when she snapped at me, yelled at me, ignored me in a critical moment, criticized me or hurt me in any way?

Yes, very clearly.

My mom failed me quite a few times.

How could she not?

She is only human.

And throughout a lifetime, you have many opportunities to fail the people you love and you will fail them, unavoidably.

Could she have done worse?

Oh yes, very much so.

But somehow it seems that in today's world when we know so much about psychology and how wounds from the past shape us and sometimes incapacitate us, it is so very easy to look back and say:

I am like this because my mom did or did not do something for me.

She really hurt me and some sides of me suffered and I became different.

Smaller, cheaper, not whole

She can rightly be blamed.

There were others too, but she started it.

For some people, the things that were done to them are tragic.

But even those from "regular families" have their big bag of hurtful things to carry.

My daughter is two and a half.

I often think of myself as the memory I will be for her in the future.

I wonder what she will see me like, remember me like.

She cannot remember things yet and already I know I have started building her bag.

She can already blame me for failing her at times when I was impatient or angry or indifferent.

I am sure she will have a lot more to blame me for when she is older.

It will be her choice whether to do that or not.

I try to be a good mom, a present mom.

But I also want to set an example by telling her about the amazing things my own mom has done for me.

I might tell her when she is older that my mom gave me time-outs when I was little and would lock me in my room and I would be completely terrified and thinking she left and didn't love me anymore (mind you, many books still say this a good way to discipline a child); and that that is why I would never do that to her.

But mostly, I want to tell her how my mom was wonderful in her support in everything I did and the way she took care of me when I was sick and would listen to me talk about my crushes, my grades, my friends, my teachers and my homework.

I haven't seen my mom in year, we live so far away.

Our talks on skype are sometimes nice and sometimes can feel like a chore which is sad.

But sometimes, like yesterday, we talk for two hours and I feel I can tell her about my worries, my struggles and my problems.

Because she is there. She's always been there.

And I am tired of blaming mom.

Because, honestly, it's not fair that our emotional memory remembers the bad things so easily and so vividly and takes the good moments for granted.

I hope when my daughter is 87 and she talks to someone about me she will say

"My mom, she was completely absent/hurtful that time when things were bad.

But the next time she was there. And the time after that. And I am glad she was."