Kelly Burch

A family's day of celebration became a nation's day of mourning.

While I would like to think that I paused for a minute or two to think about what it means to be American, I was mostly focused on looking forward to the fireworks show.
But all of that changed for me last year. Three weeks before the Fourth of July, my husband became a citizen of the United States.

Someone yelled out a racist comment, and Trump said, “Hey, I can’t say it, but he can.”

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Just like kids who kick the seat in front of them and middle-aged women who get drunk and chatty on long flights, crying babies are a fact of life.

No having a community rally in support, like it is supposed to during a crisis, can make a family in mental health crisis feel shamed and stigmatized.

Can you name an elite female athlete? If you asked me to name someone other than Venus or Serena Williams I’d have a tough time.

“How many time have I asked you….” I say in frustration, and then it hits me. The real question I should be asking is how many times I’ve uttered that phrase.

My mom and I are extremely close. Some would say we’re a little too close, but since she fills two roles in my life — mother and best friend — I think it’s fair that she get a double slice of my love and attention. I was completely devastated when she announced that she was moving to Dubai. But now, my mother has lived abroad for more than two years, and I can see that her move was a good thing.

I certainly still have moments of self-doubt, but I make a conscious effort to change my internal monologue at those times. Instead of saying, "If only you were good enough to write a book," I tell myself "You're doing great accomplishing small steps to get there." Instead of berating myself for always splitting my attention between my daughter and my work, I congratulate myself for juggling writing and motherhood.