Mothering is hard. In Merriam-Webster’s dictionary, “mother” is defined as a female parent, a woman in authority, a source, origin or, when used as a verb, to care or protect. In today’s world, being a mother can be quite challenging.

The day-to-day grind of ensuring our kids are well fed and rested, that schoolwork and homework are done and they’re engaged in an activity while we somehow maintain full-time work, has become the criteria for good mothering. If we manage to check the all boxes, only then do we have a sense we’re doing our jobs, making things right for our kids, for our families, for our communities. Oh, and for ourselves. And that’s only one piece of the pie (my favorite happens to be pumpkin, just in case you were wondering). Couple this checklist with the events happening in the outside world—a world in climate crisis—and the notion of mothering begins to take a different shape . Every day, it seems, we are confronted with another sign of our world in crisis—incidences of drought, famine, sea-level rise, the contamination of our water, rampant wildfires, dying coral, mass extinction of wildlife, and mostly recently, pandemics. You begin to wonder whether you are really preparing your children for the world that lies ahead, their future reality.

How can I address these problems when my checklist of motherly duties is already overflowing? Am I doing my part to sustain my children and family? Am I doing my part to sustain and protect my community, my city, and our planet?

My husband and I often have conversations about sustainability and climate change. We have both spoken to individuals well-versed in the field, and it’s all very alarming. “Should we stay or should we go”, we find ourselves asking, half amused by the accidental reference to that one song by The Clash. And if we do leave, “where do we go? To higher ground? Another country?”

And yes, I have researched places to move to in order to avoid natural disasters and the effects of climate change. Apparently, Tulsa, Oklahoma is the place to go, at least according to the opinion of twelve climate scientists (Bendix, 2020). But what if we don’t want to leave? We love Miami and the 3-0-5! There’s really no place in the country like it. They don’t make pastelitos de guayaba, arepas, pan de bono, or serve café cubano from la ventanita in Tulsa! No offense, but it’s true—as true as the fact that there may be a really good chance that we will all have to go.

During these conversations, I often find myself wondering about the kind of world we are leaving behind for our kids. Are we making sufficient changes to protect their future? Are we acting quickly enough? Is this fair for them? Their generation was handed a shit sandwich with a side of corona fries, served cold on a porcelain plate. What are they supposed to do? What are we supposed to do, as mothers?

Mothering within your home while taking the outside world into consideration is clearly a lot to digest but, now more than ever, we cannot turn a blind eye. We are living through a global crisis that stems from our collective neglect. We cannot put the blame on others when we are also part of the problem. This moment should be our wake up call, a serious reminder of the urgent need to take better care of each other, and the planet we share.

Mother Earth is already healing herself while we all stay home. Cleaner and clearer water in our beaches, better air quality, wildlife reclaiming their space, and even reduced pollution in major cities. If we don’t do something drastic now, when the planet has hit the “reset” button, future generations will be left to wonder just “what the hell did all those Boomers, Karens, and Millennials do, anyway?” And we’ll have little more than to say than “Oh! We stayed home, sewed some masks, and binged on Tiger King.”

When I talk to my boys about what they see and hear, it is evident that they are just as scared, worried and anxious as I am. Just the other day, we haddinner, and both my boys (10 and 7 years) said they were afraid. This is what Julian, my oldest, had to say: “I am afraid about the future and that all the animals will go extinct. We need to protect the plant and the wildlife.” These are some hefty words coming from a fifth grader, don’t you think? I don’t know about you, but I don’t remember thinking like this when I was 10 years old. I was way too concerned with homework, New Kids on the Block, ballet class, and playing outside with my friends. However, in the year 2020, a 10-year-old worries about widespread disease and climate change. How is this even fair?

I see my role as a mother as being both a protector and an educator and I try to find the right balance between the two, creating awareness while also providing comfort and support to my boys. At the end of the day, I want them to know that we are doing everything in our power to make sure they are safe, but we also believe that knowledge is power. Being an artist, I am sensitive to these conversations and often find in them fertile ground for the creation of new work.

As an MDC Live LALA 2020 Resident, I was inspired to make a piece that would amplify the issue of global climate change through the eyes of our youth. The work is designed to empower our kids to share their voices and opinions over the matter. Perhaps then the adults will listen. Through visual and audio storytelling, the work will immerse the audience with animated drawings created by children from Miami-Dade County depicting their vision of Miami in 2050. Inspired by my children, I want to give their generation a platform to tell us how they perceive climate change in Miami, which is Ground Zero for sea-level rise and other aspects of global climate change.

Being a mother in 2020 is not what it’s cracked up to be. The mother guilt is often strong, but I try to remind myself that I am not alone. There are many mothers out there feeling, questioning, wondering the same things. Since there isn’t a manual, I guess the best we can do is… our best as we ride this journey together, being sensitive to our surroundings and mindful to what our little ones are gathering.

Having the artistic outlet to channel these questions and anxieties has been quite healing. Listening to my children talk about their future has given me some hope not just because they seem to be very aware of what’s happening, but because they also have some interesting ideas on how to tackle these problems. As I have more of these conversations with children in the community, I am sure that I will find even more interesting ideas and insights.

So, as Mother’s Day approaches, we should take a moment to acknowledge the Mother and all the gifts she gives us. This is what I hope to do with this piece, to honor the space we share in this world with others and empower our kids with the right tools to take on the challenges ahead. It is my heart-felt salute to all of my fellow Mother Bears out there who are taking on each and every day with a renewed sense of purpose. Even during these critical times of crisis, despite our ceaseless worrying, I know that there is a collective consciousness, that together we can make things right for our cubs.

If you are a mother reading this, just know that you are not alone. We are in this together. And maybe, just maybe, our kids will be alright.

Oh, did I forget to mention mothering is hard? 😉