The Maid’s Hands

Clink, clink, clink.

I watch her through the rising steam of my cup of chai.

She brings the pestle down again and again onto the small, round, red hot peppers being doomed to the destiny of powdery flakiness in the mortar. She sits on the floor, the gold bangles on her dark wrists gleaming in the midday sun streaming in through one of the kitchen windows.

Imposter Monster

All the colors of the rainbow in my hand

I am an accountant.

It’s an exhilarating and exciting job. Everyday, I have key decisions to make like what color to choose for my spreadsheet report. Which file folder do I use? Which color stickies do I select? It’s almost as unpredictable and creatively satisfying as being Beyoncé.

The Second Class Citizens Foundation

Creeping on my mom and spawn

You are the apple of your parents’ eyes. They love you unconditionally. They have tucked you in and kissed your boo-boos. They have ooh-ed and aah-ed at each one of your accomplishments. They love you more than they love anyone else.

The Neanderthal I Did Not Marry

That is an onion ring. And the disdain on his face is real.

I don’t think I can go on much longer talking about parenting without talking about who I am doing this with. You know, the ying to my yang, the thread to my needle, the mashed potatoes to my gravy, the fish to my chips, the chocolate syrup to my brownie. Mmmm….brownies…urghghghh. Wait, what was I talking about?

Mommy’s Hips Don’t Lie (they only jiggle)

Every morning, as I get ready, my daughter stares at me while I do my makeup. She stands next to me while I put on mascara, with one eye closed and my mouth open (because everyone knows that it’s a natural reflex to have your mouth open when putting on mascara) and some days, she asks me, “Mamma what’s that?”, and I say “Makeup” and then she says, “Why are you putting that on your face?”.