Give me my ‘A’ in Scarlet.


Yeah, thank-you for that blank stare,
that one you gave, when you realized
what you let-go from your mouth.

Oh yes, that was ignorance defined.
You ask, “how do you do it,
don’t you miss them when they’re away
from you? I couldn’t do it.”

Miss my sons? But it’s only been two hours
since I’ve seen them last.
Who is taking care of them?
Their father.

“Oh but daddies just don’t
do it like mommies do.”
I mean,  really?

Look- the mama wars are absolutely
the best way to sell a magazine-
Sure- pop a kid who looks older than three
on a disembodied tit-and make it glossy for Newsweek
and the world will break, the fuck, down.
“Ew breastfeeding, that’s gross”
or “gratuitous” or “selfish”.

Or, tell women they can’t have it all –
Put it on the cover of the Atlantic
and watch every morning talk show come-up
with a new guilt inducing headline.

Yes, they sell magazines by stoking
the fires of the mommy wars.

And OK- I’ll be honest,
I love a good fight- but bitch-
you’re not worth my time.

Yes- I am mother of two-
mother of two sons-
mother of two sons, aged five and three,
mother of two sons, aged five and three, named Kai and Keegan.
Mother of two.

And yes, I work full-time,
and advise four clubs,
and stay late after school,
and, why yes,
I am on the board of that lovely non-profit.

And yes, I go out a couple of times a week
-yes, without my husband
-yes, at night.
-yes, sometimes I drink.

Shall I dig that Scarlet ‘A’ out of my pocket-
or do you keep one on hand,
for women like me?

No, you’re right
-I’m not home to pick  them up from school.
Their sitter picks them up.
But yes, she like play dough more than I do.

No, I didn’t can/preserve/freeze this year’s
garden’s organic, vitamin-rich, Kale
-you Happy Valley guru.
I did though, make a boozy, rum, peach jam
that makes everyone drool.

And the cookies, I bake long into the night,
we will eat those for breakfast on Saturday mornings,
while we watch Power Rangers.
And speaking of sacrifice- this show kills me.
Who writes this shit?

And have you met my boys?
Ages three and five?
You know what the like best about me?
That the characters in their books that I read,
have voices better than their favorite cartoons on TV.

They love that they
are never afraid of the dark,
because I know where to buy all the zombie proof roofing and siding.
They love that I surprise them by knowing-
what color each Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle wears.

And when my son, aged three, asked,
“could you teach me how to be a superhero?”
And I replied, “I’m not sure I know all the rules.”
My son aged five jumped in to say-
“Yeah you do mama- don’t you remember?”
“How would I remember Kai?”
“Silly mama – Because you are one.”

See the mommy wars are bullshit,
because we all just love differently.
I love with super powers.
Super-powers  fueled by a sweet case of ADHD,
and a twelve pack of Magic Hat.

My cape is made from the possibility
I want to show my boys,
from the worlds they should
grow to explore.

And you know what?
Hand over that ‘A’
Because it stands for
Awesome or Amazing,
or Absolutely cooler than you.

Oh right, I wasn’t going to engage
in this Mommy war.

Because I am mother of two,
mother of two boys,
mother of two boys ages five and three.

Mother of two boys,
who never stop,
who tell knock-knock jokes,
who drive their mother to drink,
just a little-bit.

And as that mother,
I would swallow hot coals
to make sure they were alright.

Mother of two boys aged five and three,
named Kai and Keegan,
carved out of my heart.
Mother of two.

2 responses »

  1. I am one of the original attachment parents, I suppose. I just did what I did because it was what worked for me (an my son who we now realize probably has Aspergers). It didn’t have a name, back then. And it certainly wasn’t a militant movement. In my opinion, it should never have become a militant movement.

    My son is almost 21. I had no idea that sort of war was even raging until my niece asked me to give a talk at her university about my parenting style. I had seen the piece in the Atlantic and had subsequently searched out the Time article, but that was the first I realized there was an actual attachment parenting movement.

    Back in the day, the war looked much different. I was bucking the trends of my feminist friends. They claimed I was bailing on the movement. Maybe I didn’t live up to my feminist potential, but I firmly believed the movement had been about giving females a right to decide what was right for them…

    None of us should have to defend our actions when what we do is out of love!

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