Before this, at three years old, when my mom went to sleep and my father hadn’t come home yet, I was up till the early hours of the morning at my grandmother’s house. When my grandma asked me why I wasn’t asleep yet, in spanish I told her, “Porque mi Danny no se quiere dormir.” I was taking care of my brother, waiting for him to fall asleep. As young as I was, my maternal instincts had already kicked in and mini-mom was my middlename.
As far back as I remember, my mom has come home late, ate, and gone to …show more content…
Stepping into my house I’m immersed in both laughter and tears. Some days, I can find myself chasing a naked baby around the house with a clean diaper. Or listening to Carolina give me a full explanation on what a prostitute is. Or breaking up a fight on the account of Abigail giving Carolina a purple-nurple.
I am their psychologist and listen to all their problems. My sister did once say, “Stephie, I have issues,” and in response I said, “Tell me about them.” I am their lawyer and defend them against all the evidence that says they really did eat the sandwiches. I am their priest and listen to them confess their sins, and if they need a mom, I will be their mom.
Today, as I was typing this essay, I was cradling Lily to sleep in my left arm. 13 years A.D., after my brother, I am still watching over the baby. Despite our differences in fathers, physical features, or last names, I don’t call them my half-siblings. They are my sisters and brother and make up a huge part of who I