News Trend What Truly Matters About Moms|Actual

Another Mother's Day has come and gone, and as usual, I spent the day with my head full of thoughts.

^ My mom and me at the beginning.

I thought about my mom, and our complex, confusing, often conflicted relationship. Never imagined that her battle with dementia would level me up to a whole new understanding of our mother-daughter dynamic and bring me peace, but that's exactly what happened.

 ^ Little miss third born, at the wise age of three months.

^ My first born on her first birthday.

And I thought about my adventures as a mommy to my own four girls. Hard to wrap words around how much we have all grown and changed in their relatively short lifetimes. Hard to even remember who I was before they came along to make me a mom.

^ We mothers are as plentiful as flowers on a vine, and just as closely connected.

I thought about the beautiful sisterhood of mothers. Here's the thing - once a woman becomes a mother, her heart is permanently changed, and every other mother on the planet understands and shares in that transformation. No matter how different we may be in other ways, I feel a deep connection to any mom who shares her mother's heart with me.

And lastly, but perhaps most importantly of all, I thought about daughters who think about motherhood. Among the endless parade of sweet and loving Mother's Day posts that flitted through my social media feeds this weekend, many boldly claiming that this mother was the "best mom ever," the "coolest mom," or even "better than your mom," came this little pearl of wisdom and insight from one of my sixteen-year-old math students:

^ My algebra student, Natalie, and her perfect-for-her mommy.

"Happy Mothers Day Mom! I love you so so much and everyone talks about how they have the best mom in the entire world and let's be honest - to you, she is. God gives us a mother who is exactly what we need and want. I thank God every day that he gave me my mom because she is the best mom for me!"

Yes. YES. Thank you, Natalie Jean, for reminding us moms that mothering is an art and a science but never a competition. There are countless "rightdanquot; ways to be a mom, and an infinite number of moms who intuitively know what's best for their kids. And what's more, our sons and daughters need us to be exactly the kind of mom we were each born to be, because they were born to us for a reason.

So,  here's to the bio moms, step moms, foster moms and adoptive moms of the world. Let us celebrate on this Mother's Day who we are and what we do. And let's carry Natalie's wise words with us throughout the year - we may not always feel like the Best Mom, but we are always the best mom for our kids.

And that is what truly matters.

News Trend Pretty|Actual

Although beauty is in the eye of the beholder, the feeling of being beautiful

exists only in the mind of the beheld. - Martha Nash

Pretty is not about the way that you look.

Pretty is the way that you feel.

And I don't care how much any woman might say that she is not into that sort of thing.

I don't care how mmuch of a rugged, outdoorsy type you prefer to be,

or how many brothers you played trucks with,

or how little you care about doing your hair,

or how non-pretty you feel because of those extra ten, twenty, or fifty pounds,

or how you just throw on any old thing and don't waste your time paying attention to fashion.

Every woman deserves a day, now and then, when she puts on a new outfit and heads off to the salon for an hour of pampering.

Shampoo

Massage

Hair cut

Blow dry

Styling

Today, for the first time in a year, I did just that. And I can tell you exactly how it made me feel.

Comfortable.

Relaxed.

Peaceful

Renewed.

Confident.

And pretty.

News Trend Welcome Back|Actual

Day One

In which a sunny afternoon spent jumping in the waves of the South China Sea and lounging beneath a palm-shaded tiki hut  feels like a warm welcome back to a comfortably familiar place.

News Trend Miss Saigon|Actual

Upon arrival in the sweet city of Saigon, we first checked into our hotel with the flurry of lanterns streaming up through the atrium.

Well. There was also the matter of the taxi driver who tried to cheat us on our fare. But between my feisty third-born's instincts and my tutlage in dealing with Indian rickshaw drivers last year in Hyderabad, we soon got him sorted out.

Then we were off to explore the city and here is what we found.

Parks.

We found a lot of parks. Often their design bespoke the city's French roots, with a mash-up of Communist colors and patriotic statues. Surprisingly pretty and serene.

French architecture

No, I don't mean French-inspired Asian knockoffs, longingly interpreted by the Indochinese of the 19rh century.

I mean that the Notre Dame Cathedral was designed by a Frenchman and crest from material imported from France. It stands strong and tall to this day, the pride of local Christians, a bastion of European artistry, and a jewel for all to enjoy.

Energetic Street Life.

Yes, as expected, the streets of Saigon are chaotic. More cars than I expected and endless streams of motorbikes create something other than bedlam. Woven together with groups of happy schoolchildren, mid-century architecture, and iconic emblems of her historic past, Saigon's streets are pure poetry in motion.

A City On The Rise.

Quite literally, Saigin is growing upward and outward, and this fact is readily apparent from the SkyView deck of the Bitexco Financial Tower. I'm not one for squandering a dollar on trumped-up tourist activities but this bird's eye view of the city was well worth the investment.

Butterflies.

Standing outside a coffee shop and shooting photos of the street, I witnessed a most remarkable thing. In the midst of the motorcycles, bicyclists, pedestrians, vendors and other citizens of the streets, a single butterfly appeared. Flying past me, flitting straight up the street, its pale yellow wings seemed impossibly fragile, its path far too serendipitous for this tumultuous environment.

Yet she flew safely on, as far as I could see her go, this bold butterfly. And if she needed a name, I would call her Miss Saigon.

News Trend Family Reunion|Actual

The first hours of our trans-oceanic family reunions always involve working out some kinks. Despite our near-constant communication across the months and miles, our in-person interactions creak and groan at the start, as we re-accustom ourselves to each other's idiosyncrasies and quirks.

Somewhere around the 48-hour mark, the adjustment process comes to a head. Emotions crescendo, and we hold a pow-wow to sort things out and clear the air.

And then, refreshed and renewed in ourselves and each other, we move ahead together.

News Trend My Sunny Afternoon With Travis|Actual

Meet Travis. He's an 18-year-old Vietnamese country boy turned university student, a former pupil of my daughter and an online buddy of mine.

Since meeting in my third-born's classroom two years ago and connecting through Facebook, Travis and I have become great friends. He calls me his teacher and asks me all sorts of interesting and curious questions about American idioms and finer points of English grammar. And I call him my student and do my best to explain these puzzling nuances. In the midst of these sessions, we have grown quite fond of one another.

So it was with great anticipation that I made plans to meet Travis in Saigon last weekend. And a lovely reunion we had together, talking and laughing in a cool McDonald's, sharing cheeseburgers and French fries as Travis talked to us about slaughtering chickens for his home-cooked meals.

As I've come to expect when meeting far-flung Facebook friends, shadows of difference quickly fade away and the pure light of genuine connection shines in the balance.  I'm grateful for my sunny afternoon with Travis.

News Trend Ghosts Of War|Actual

Cong Caphe is a Vietnamese coffeehouse that capitalizes on a wartime theme. Sure, it's a fun, hipster-driven motif. But sitting in an apparent base camp for the  North Vietnamese fills this American's veins with ice and her heart with a strange, outdated fear.

When my daughters visit Danang, they experience tropical breezes, ocean waves, and a delightful little city full of bridges, motorbikes, and endless food.

But when I come to Vietnam, I see ghosts.

Ghosts of war.

A war that was fought when I was just a child. At the time, I thought I didn't understand what was happening in this mysterious, far-off land.

But now I see that I grasped the terror all too well.

Children dying unspeakable deaths.

Innocent men and women fleeing danger, desperate for a new home, a new village, a safe place to plant their rice and raise their chickens and pray that life could return to normal.

American soldiers dying for a war that their countrymen rarely understood and didn't support, fighting an enemy they didn't know how to fight.

A tiny Asian nation turned against itself in a proxy battle between the two Cold War super powers.

And a post-nuclear world that looked on in horror as the conflict edged closer and closer to the abyss.

* * * * *

This is what I think about when I come to Vietnam. And I worry how the people here will respond to a person like me, an American, who dares to come back and stir up those old memories.

But each time I visit, the gentle people of Danang wrap me in kindness and generosity and love, and I understand that we are all helping each other heal from those terrible ghosts of war.