denise Leora madre

Last night at the 86th Academy Awards, Lupita Nyong’o completed her sweep of the awards season with a win for Best Actress in a Supporting Role for her work in 12 Years a Slave . As she gave an impassioned, gracious acceptance speech, concluding with “When I look down at this golden statue, may it remind me and every little child that no matter where you’re from, your dreams are valid,” I found myself in tears. To be clear, I also cried during Jared Leto’s heartfelt tribute to his mother. And when Bette Midler started singing “Wind Beneath My Wings,” I fell apart at the first line, thinking of my dearly departed Ebony and the one and only time I’d ever watched Beaches . But there was no denying the way my soul soared when Lupita took the stage cloaked in glee and gratitude, no escaping how I felt her triumph on a personal level. And that surprised me.

Countless blogs including this one have often paused to admit one truth. Parenting is difficult. We don’t complain for kicks or to garner sympathy. We share our passion and pet peeves because we just didn't realize it would be like this , whatever our  this is. We thought parenting would be more of abc and less of xyz. We thought our children would reveal one set of traits hidden within us and they instead unleashed a completely different set, one of which we are sometimes ashamed. Realizing other parents experience these dueling dualities makes us feel a little less loopy. And a lot less alone. Although I know my children know nothing of these musings, every now and then they say or do something that makes me feel as if I am not totally screwing this (and them) up. Tonight Braylee did.

At 3:50 this morning, I awoke to Jonan calling through the bedroom door, “Mom, can you help Braylee get back in the bed?” Mommy to the rescue! (Image Courtesy of artur84 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net) I jumped up with a groggy “Yes, honey, of course!” donned my bathrobe, and headed to their room. As I stumbled down the short hallway, I marveled that I missed the ‘boom’ when Braylee hit the floor after falling out of bed. Then I wondered how she did that when Jonan sleeps on the outside. And as I thought of Jonan, I realized he didn't seem all that concerned about Braylee being injured, which wasn't like him. He’s the kid who can’t focus in school if a classmate is crying or upset, the one who seemed able to read and respond to my emotions before he knew his ABCs. Watching him take Braylee’s tumble in literal stride—I mean, could he walk any more casually?—I entered their bedroom and realized my error.

Last night, Dale Earnhardt Jr won the 2014 Daytona 500, his first Daytona win since 2004. This win was especially significant for me as Dale is Horace’s favorite driver and won on Horace’s birthday. While at first ignoring the race, I could focus on the blog post I was supposed to share today, the follow-up to Friday’s DWD Challenge recap . I could zone in and out of the action because I wasn't invested in it. Then Dale joined the crowd at the front of the pack.   Blog forgotten and heart pounding in my chest, I watched those final laps with my every nerve on the edge of fraying. My gaze darted frantically among the speeding cars, clenching and wringing my hands when they bunched too close to one another. Having witnessed a number of crashes already, I don’t think I fully exhaled until Dale took the checkered flag...and that under Caution. And as I celebrated with Horace and Dale, something hit me: Investment yields joy.

We are one of those families with a monthly data allowance. Twenty precious gigs. Though we don’t stream or YouTube as much as we’d like, that amount is usually sufficient to meet our needs. But this month—due to what I am sure was a malware attack—we sit at 19.908GB with less than 24 hours to go before the start of next billing cycle. In the interest of avoiding overage charges, we have decided to go this final stretch without using any data. (This will be the soundtrack of my day...I'm almost positive.) And in the interest of transparency about my data dependence, I shall chronicle my Day Without Data for your amusement and edification. Let us begin.

Next Thursday night, I will put the children in bed, complete all chores, and turn off my ringer. I will jump in bed beside my husband just before 9:00 p.m., turned the channel to ABC, and barely resist the urge to squeal with glee. For it will be the start of the Spring Season for Grey’s Anatomy and Scandal. Perhaps the Winter Finales of those two shows didn't leave you breathless and wanting and wondering why Shonda Rhimes insists on slaying you week after week. Perhaps you haven’t been counting the minutes since 11:01 p.m. December 12 th , wondering how you were going to survive nearly two months without your adventures in Shondaland. Perhaps you don’t understand the lure of the on-call room or why one would need to put one’s white hat back on. And if all of the above are true, then this might not be the post for you. Otherwise allow me to dedicate the next two Wednesdays to honoring the two reasons I love Thursday nights. First up, Grey’s Anatomy. Ju...

Seven years ago today, I awoke early, a light in my eyes and a song in my heart. It was my wedding day! My favorite photo from that day... and every day since. Though I could share many a memory from then, my current thoughts are focused on the path leading to that moment. A moment I never thought would happen.