Recently I was complaining to my cousin Lei about my mother.
“I tell her I’m happy,” I said as we waited for our table to be called, “but she doesn’t believe me.” I had money in the bank, a dream career, and was in a sickeningly loving relationship with a guy she adored like a son. Yet every time we spoke, she asked with fear in her voice: “Is everything okay? Are you okay? Is Alex’s job okay? Are you guys okay?”
“She’s your mother,” Lei said. “She’ll always worry.” My cousin watched her 3-year old zoom past us, her husband close on her tail. “Before I became a mother, I didn’t understand that worry. Now I do.”
I sighed. There it was again, that exclusive club. Motherhood. Keep reading »








