A Thursday, the day I decided I could write again. Some people write during the maelstrom, some people need to let it all out, but for me to write I need a calm, safe space. Sometimes it takes a while to find that space and it’s taken me a few months.
In the span of 14 months I’ve lost my home of 19 years where all my children grew up, moved twice (losing more than half of my belongings in the process), bought my first home and lost my best friend and constant companion, Petey. It’s been a literal cacophony for me with no space in my head for writing. I opened this up to write and can’t even get past my site’s name, UrbanMommys. The older my kids get, the less parenting advice I can seem to muster, and when I do it seems kind of outdated. I’ll spend the next few months trying to figure out what direction I want to take this site in, what use it is and whether or not I should just switch to a personal blog. One of my ideas would be to chronicle my experiences in a series of blog posts that, while maybe not helping anyone per say, might at least make you laugh (or cringe).
If you’re still a reader then I want to say thanks, sorry I’ve been away so long.
I have been a parent for over 24 years. My oldest and youngest children are over 11 years apart so I have been continuously parenting someone for all that time. This gives me a unique perspective on the way the challenges of parenting have evolved over time. 
Judging nowadays is an Olympic sport, amirite? We love to get on our computers, social media and judge the SHIT out of other people’s choices, actions, etc. We go on FB, read the thoughtful article our sister/cousin/aunt posted, then we write our judging-ass opinions. 
I’m not sure who I was lamenting our social media age parenting to, but in response I was asked if I wished I lived a long time ago, when things were simple. I said no, because I most likely wouldn’t exist as I’m biracial, and polio.