I was going to write a small essay about how I bought a couch and economic fear and insecurity. But my 13 yo came into the office, saw me typing, and said, “No one cares about you buying a couch, mom!”
I will still write about the couch and money. But for today, I want to write about mothering.
This same kid had a bunch of friends over on Saturday. And they are such women and also such children. Eating sushi, jumping on the trampoline. I’ve known my daughter’s friends since they were in kindergarten. I am not friends with their parents. But we are all familiar strangers in each other’s lives, pulled together by the gravitational force of our children.
After the girls left and my daughter and I were snuggling in bed she began to tell me that she and her friends have a list of which parents houses are good for which things.
One kid’s house is good for snacks.
One house is good for being chill.
Another house is the fancy house.
I was furious my house wasn’t any of those houses. But I listened, finally asking, “Okay, what is my house good for?”
And my daughter said, “Oh, your house is the safe house. It’s the house we all know we can go to if anything goes bad.” She told me that her friends know I am accepting. And that though out the years of playdates, birthday parties, and field trips they’ve learned this house I’ve built is the home where they can go to be themselves.
After my daughter went to bed, I sat on my sofa, the one she thinks no one cares about, and cried.
This is what home is. Safety. And I think of all my kids and I have been through together. The divorce, my job loss, the pandemic, the fear, economic insecurity, and the joy and the success. And how they’ve been part of my work in a way that I could have never dreamed when I was 28 and so pregnant my earlobes were swelling.
And I think about how safety is what is being taken away in our country, through legislation targeting queer youth, book bans, and laws criminalizing abortion. And how in the middle of it all, we have to be our safety and that can’t be passive. It means fighting and breaking and building something new.
So, please donate to the Iowa Abortion Access Fund for Mother’s Day. Help people make the choice to mother or not. Help them choose to live the life they want.
Last year,
wrote an incredible essay for this newsletter about being a single mother on Mother’s Day.A Single Mom’s Manifesto for Mother’s Day
This newsletter is written by Megan Pillow. Megan holds an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and a Ph.D. in English from the University of Kentucky. She is project manager for Roxane Gay and co-editor of Dr. Gay's newsletter, The Audacity. Her work has appeared in, among other places,
Also,
has this incredible essay on the origins of Mother’s Day.I know this day is complex for so many people. But you are out there creating safety and joy in your own lives, whatever that looks like. And that means something.
So happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers, those grieving mothers, those mothering themselves, dog moms, parents who birthed but don’t identify as mothers, and of course, the ultimate MOTHER, Anne Hathaway.
There are more links for your Sunday, below.