Our Conquering Hero
It stands to reason that this critically-esteemed publication would not exist without Kina. It is further true that without her mother, Laurea, Kina would not exist. By the transitive property of progeneration, then, The Daily Kina is really in many ways a story of Laurea.
I try as often as I can to make sure Laurea’s story is told here as much as mine is. (Kina, of course, gets top billing, but she is the publisher and gets that prerogative.) There are many days when I sit down in the morning to write and ask Laurea, “Is there any news?” She never fails to miss a scoop. Because of that, the news you see in these pages is not just told by Laurea but is also a version of Kina’s life through Laurea’s eyes—and in that you see a picture of who Laurea is.
As Kina gets older, we see her mother shining through her in new and exciting ways—when she lays out her clothes in a chic and flat version of herself on the floor, for example, or in defense of her friends on the playground (which makes her parents unspeakably proud to hear about). Kina is undeniably her mother’s daughter—the spitting, sometimes infuriated image.
It was not always clear to Laurea that we would have a kid, and I wouldn’t hold it against any childbearing person in this often-grotesque world to have second thoughts about the whole affair. It’s not easy, and the implications for mothers—in the shorthand of today’s holiday—like Laurea are super scary. The numbers don’t lie; being a mother is a risky bet.
And yet here we are, in celebration of six years of motherhood—four of which, today, are now documented in the annals of this publication, including these two newsletters (I hadn’t yet started writing the newsletter version of this in the first Mother’s Day of The Daily Kina). We woke up, made accidental corn pancakes, ate dim sum with many of the mothers of this extended family, and Laurea and her baby went to a birthday party at a swimming pool (Mommy’s favorite kind of place).
She is a masterpiece, Kina’s Mommy. I’ve watched all three of us (not least Laurea, in her own fascinating ways) grow tremendously in the three years that separate us from 2020—and the six years from Kina’s birth. She hasn’t just kept up (or caught up) as she integrates her life as a mother; she’s rushed out ahead in ways that make me breathless. Her model, for Kina, as a woman is unmatched. Without her, we are not parents. Without her, there is no Kina. Without her, there is none of this—and I am grateful for all of that, and to her.
With that, I’ll link to the second (but first, here) Mother’s Day edition of the Daily Kina, which still chokes me up to read:
Kina and I didn’t set out to draw the same version of Laurea, with a crown and a blue dress, but it turned out that way. The Parade take on Mommy is a little bolder and like 300% more regal. I like it, and love her.
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