Favorite Part of the Day


My favorite part of the day is around 7pm, around the time he takes his daily shower. His little brother is playing in his room, making dinosaur roars or superhero exclamations of grandeur and rescue.

My oldest child sings in the shower. And he sounds so free. He’s usually so shy or crippled by anxiety that he rarely speaks, never to strangers, barely to me. When he does it’s an outburst, a meltdown, more and more lately a threat.

But when he’s in the shower he sings like no one’s listening. Like no one’s home. Tonight he croons Alicia Keys’ “Unthinkable” and I could cry.

Around 7pm my house smells like soap and sounds like melodic joy and my child is free. His mind is clear and all that matters to him are the lyrics, the rhythms and the beats that calm his soul.

His singing mixes with his brother’s playing and for a moment I feel peace. For a moment I can write again. I can read again. I can breathe again. I am free.

It’s my favorite part of the day.

On Being a Teen 30.

When you're a teen mom at thirty, you feel like a teen mom again: completely out of place. Your friends are now catching up and having babies of their own but they're not really "catching up", are they? They're doing it at the right time. You were the one who clearly got it wrong.

Your friends talk about formula and breast feeding and what stroller to buy while you research "How to Get a 12 Year Old Through Puberty" on your own. 

You realize this will always be the case. You will always be the odd mom out. Hell, you always have been. You will always be at the wrong stage of your own goddamn life. 

Your pregnant friends will ask you if it's weird to have a different last name than your child's. They ask because they are beautiful, bad ass feminists that never took their husband's last name. Clearly, not the reason why my child and I do not have the same last name. His was never offered to me with a promise and a ring. 

I tell them not to worry about it. They are married. They belong to a family unit. Their different last name is a minor detail that doesn't take from the legitimacy of their family. Alright, so I just say, "No, it's not weird".

When you're a teen mom at thirty, you're reminded that you did it wrong, out of order, too quickly. Your friends are engaged married, expecting, mothers of toddlers and you're still trying to survive, trying to fit in, knowing you never will. 

Am I grateful to not be changing diapers? Absolutely. I am looking to get married and start all over the "right way"? Hell to the no. I love my child. I realize my blessings but there's just something about being a teen mom at thirty that makes you feel well, like a teen mom again. You watch them do it the right way, unable to stop the thoughts that you clearly did it wrong. 

Pillars of Sand

He told me I am blessed.

That I do have a strong foundation.

Two of the most important pillars to stand upon: God and Family.

The words of encouragement instantly make me cry as these two entities slowly but surely drain from my life.

God, already gone. Family close behind.

I ask myself what’s left.


There is always love.

I seek love, yearn for it. It often escapes me.

Life without God is hard.

I’m agnostic.

Not by choice.

If it were up to me I’d bask in His glory with hands raised and heart open once again and always.

I’d always have someone there.

A listening ear, a constant comfort, the greatest force worthy of all worship, a frickin’ god that I'd be lucky enough to call my best friend.

I loved it.

I miss it.

But my brain gets in the way.

The silence he gives me outweighs the comforting presence I myself created.


It’s hard when you have family but no rock. No constant shoulder.

The support is there but so are the mistakes.

He tells me he’s always going to be there for me while he is awful to her.

Delusional of his overwhelmingly crushing crimes.

And the others are busy. Rightfully busy with their busy lives.

Hate to complain.

Hate to need.

Refuse to ask.

These pillars he credits to me are nothing but pillars of sand.

They sink swiftly, transform to quicksand and I drown.

My rock.

My strength.

Nothing but pillars of sand.