parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
My Mom; The Superhuman
My mom is a superhero, and I'm not just saying that because she is my mom. She is superhuman. She has super strength; she can lift a bed with one hand. She can make people feel peace; I once saw her breath peace over my tiny baby cousin as she gasped for air from feeling a pain too overwhelming for a baby. She has this amazing ability to make things happen; all my siblings and I had to do was think about being hungry, and my mom would have a full course meal already prepared. She could stretch, kind of like the mother form the Incredibles. I watched her stretch a 20-dollar bill and make it enough to feed a family of 5. I also once saw her come out of a horrible car crash, unscathed, not one single scratch, like who does that?
By Nikeeya Ali6 years ago in Families
Daughter of the Sea
She wakes before the sun, eyes quickly adjusting to the cool darkness that will slowly fill with the quiet, early movements of the island. She rises and heads downstairs to take the buckets for collecting the neighbors’ leftovers; pigs’ feed that will sell for a little extra, and proceeds to quickly make her rounds on the empty streets of the town. She likes the early mornings and the quiet. This island is home, playground, work place and school but in these hours, it was peace.
By Renee Fajardo6 years ago in Families
Vulnerable superwoman
Melody Guryn is a beyond average Mamacita and a mother of four. I have always looked up to her the way she did her make-up, got ready for work, she was so professional and had it together. I admired the way she sang Shania Twain songs because she knew we loved it. She consistently sang her songs and taught us as we jumped on her bed with a hairbrush in hand. I loved the way she always had everything under control no matter what was happening.
By Brooke Guryn6 years ago in Families
My Mom, My Hero
When I was little and someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I gave two answers. Firstly, I said that I wanted to be a veterinarian, and then I would say that I wanted to be like my mom. We all know that our answer to that question when we are kids is rarely how we feel when we actually grow up, and let me tell you, I could not have been more far off about wanting to be a vet. I may love animals but I hate the sight of blood and don’t like science enough. However, when I said that I wanted to be like my mom, I had no idea that I would still feel that way all these years later.
By Madison Davidson-McCrabb6 years ago in Families
The Incredible Eliza Kim
During the Korean War, young Korean girls were having babies with a lot of young soldiers. Mixed children were seldom accepted (especially those of African American and Korean descent) and the new mothers had to choose. Some kept their babies, trying to raise them on their own, often being disowned by their families. Some abandoned them on the street after realizing they could no longer care for them when they became ill. Others, like my mother's mother, chose the route of infanticide.
By Kimisha Turner6 years ago in Families
a place to call home
When I was a child, I didn’t notice that we were different. I didn’t notice that other mothers didn't wear miniskirts and leather jackets to parents evening. I didn't notice that other children weren’t taken on these insane thrilling holidays at least twice a year, where there would be dancing, laughing and crying and feeling truly connected to the world and everyone in it. I didn’t notice how other people's homes didnt have 713 books, five guitars and six cats. I thought everyone’s mum was special, a philanthropist and moved mountains and their actions aligned with their values. Today you can find my mother in our cosy London flat which has art covering every inch of space and books spilling off shelves and onto the floors and tables. We have a pile of bills and receipts living on our sofa, which my mother will sometimes shred. Her books range from French philosophy to art encyclopedias, but most are psychology books that helped her out of some dark places and which now help me on my journey. My mother’s name is Cina.
By Lillie Aissa6 years ago in Families
To the Woman who changed my life: Thank you.
Its 1am, I’m crying loud enough for the whole of England to hear. The nightmares have taken over again for the third time this week and this time it's impossible to forget. For a brief moment I feel like I'm alone, the little 7 year old me is frightened and needs comfort. And for the slight moment of loneliness I felt not long ago, it is now replaced with a warmth when a hand is stroking my head, telling me it is all a nightmare and she is there to keep me safe. Then, with the lullaby of Que Sera Sera, I drift back to sleep with my mother lying right next to me.
By Manveen Kaur6 years ago in Families
