Mommyhood in LA

 I’m not from LA. I mean, how many people do you know that are actually from out here? This crazy city? We now call it home though, my little family of 3. And we do our best. My husband & I work really hard to build a better life for our daughter than what we had. We wake up every day and work towards nourishing the little future that shares our bed with us every night (co-sleeping for the win). We say I love you a lot. We give a ton of kisses. We give an innumerable amount of hugs throughout the day. We argue. Sometimes with each other, sometimes with the smaller version of ourselves about why she shouldn’t jump off the couch like she’s trying to crowd surf. We’re teachers and students everyday. We try. We try hard just like you try. And we get it wrong sometimes. But I’d like to think that we’re doing the important parts right. I hope we are. We all want our kids to be better than us. We want better for them.

That’s why I was so upset the other day when we were in a park full of children and none of them had any interest in playing with each other. We look at our kids as our hope in the future but in those few hours after that day, I instead felt hopeless. I obviously took it more personal than most because my daughter was the one facing rejection over and over again… But how could I not take that personally? She’s my little me, she’s a smaller version of myself with feelings the size of me. I know what rejection feels like in this city and it hurts. I never want her to feel that way, specially not at such a young age. I want to protect her from all the shit life has to offer. I want her to be able to believe in magic and sweet fuzzy things and nice people so much longer than I was able to.

That’s why it hurts to see. Too young for too much truth about this city and possibly about the world.

But luckily children are resilient. Seriously, they’re little powerhouses of well, power. They are the wisest and strongest beings on the planet and they simply do not get enough credit for that. That’s why I’m sitting here, typing this up over a situation that happened days ago and my daughter is in the bedroom sleeping late on a Friday… Because she doesn’t give a shit about what happened the other day. It happened and now she’s forgotten about it and moved on with her badass little life. We’re teachers and students, but today I’m definitely the latter.

xo mamas

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