As in fairy tales, the stepmother is generally deemed as evil: Lady Tremaine in Cinderella, The Queen in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Mother Gothel in Rapunzel, and last but certainly not least, Maleficent. These scorned women often live in the shadows of a beautiful princess who sings with a voice so beautiful, forest animals appear. A peasant girl forced into indentured servitude, who fits the glass slipper as if it were made for her foot exclusively—because it was! A stepmother so envious, she exiles the young child to a dark, sky-reaching tower, her beauty hidden from all the land. A woman so evil, she goes as far as cursing a newborn child, as a means of seeking revenge on the child’s father.
It’s all over social media. The current American obsession for all things French, from diet to shoes. Jeanne Damas is the stylish It Girl. Everyone is looking at the French girl’s plate to try to figure out how they all stay so slim. French music is showing up on TV, and French movies are being re-released.
I wrote out 100 things I want to thank my mom for. Here they are:
Why I hate my mother: a theory
I had no social life in college. My hard-working immigrant parents couldn’t afford my college tuition, so I bartended at a TGI Fridays full time, leaving me with no energy and no time to go to parties and do keg stands. When I wasn’t working, I’d come home from school, catch up on my studying and then set up the Scrabble board on the kitchen counter. My playing partner was Jacqueline, a cousin who lived only two houses away because Cubans have a tendency to stick together, regardless of the country. Jacqueline was only thirteen years old but mature for her age, so much so that I'd often forget she was still a budding teenager. I would talk to her about school, bartending, boys, everything. She would sit and listen to me and offer me feedback.
The red light was flashing on my answering machine when I arrived home that warm summer evening. I casually dropped my tennis bag onto the kitchen floor, wiped the last few drops of perspiration from my forehead and pressed the play button. The machine quickly accessed the solitary message and replayed.
"I wasn't raised that way."
As I parted ways with my "babies" and my husband, I had a thought. I would miss them terribly, but I was proud for all the work I had accomplished leading up to this moment, and I wanted to make them proud too. No guilt. Just wanting to represent for our crew.
Daddy was always healthy. I don't remember him going to the doctor much when I was younger but as he aged of course there were issues that needed to be addressed. He never had any very serious problems a couple of scares that turned out to be nothing, until 1998 when he had an accident. After that it seemed to be one thing after another and Daddy always seemed so sad.
This is a very tender topic to some.
Parents are often busy and devote very less time to their kids. Even if they are at home, they are confused about spending time with the kids creatively and productively.