One of the awesome things about having a new book out [The Good Mother Myth: Redefining Motherhood to Fit Reality] is that sometimes people actually want to talk to you about it! I’ve been having a blast the past couple of months traveling across the country doing bookstore readings and signings. Each place I visit, there’s always a handful of folks who come up and want to talk all things motherhood.
In New York City, many of the people in the audience wanted to touch on how the media portrays women — particularly those who are mothers — versus men. In Portland, Oregon, I heard from women who were increasingly frustrated by the work/home divide and the tired notion of “having it all.” Chicago found me chatting with young college students who had come to the book reading as part of a class field trip. We talked about their relationships with their own mothers and the concerns they had about becoming mothers themselves.
And then, there was book club. Last week, I was invited to join in for a local book club that had read my book for the month of February. I was pretty excited. I arrived at the host’s house, eager to hear what everyone thought of the book. After some snacking, drinking and a bunch of chit-chatting, they started to dig into the book. They had some questions for me, ranging from how I got the idea to create the book, to whether or not I used a pen name. (Let’s just say that if I had chosen a pen name, I probably would have gone with one that gets pronounced and written correctly at least 50 percent of the time …)
I also got to hear reactions to specific essays in the book, which is always nice. One that stuck out to the women in this group in particular was Liz Henry’s “The Macaroni and Cheese Dilemma.” Liz’s essay talks about choosing to have an abortion, and why that choice was the best for her family. Keep reading »
I can still remember some of the quieter moments of my pregnancy: laying on the couch, my fingers trailing over my ever-expanding belly, wondering about the baby inside and if everything would be okay. During our first ultrasound appointment around 20 weeks, the tech had been concerned about the size of the baby’s kidneys and some fluid that surrounded them. He pointed it out to me on the screen, and later on the printed pictures we were given to take home. To me, the blurry image looked no more like a baby than a Rorschach inkblot test, but I so desperately tried to see what the tech saw. In the weeks that followed my anxiety shot through the roof. Was this a random anomaly? Was it something I did? Was it something I could have prevented? Keep reading »
On my way into work this morning, I had the displeasure of walking behind two women who, in each of their hands not clutching their coffee, held leashes that were harnessed to their respective children. Not dogs — children. The woman on the left had three kids, all on individual leashes, and the woman on the right had one child. All of the children appeared to around age five or younger. I am not a parent, and so I generally shy away from expressing my opinions about other peoples’ parenting choices, but if there is one thing that makes my blood boil, it’s parents who treat their children like they’re animals. And in my opinion, strapping a harness around a child’s belly and keeping them on a leash, even if it’s a leash meant for a human, is coming pretty damn close. Keep reading »
Growing up, I thought the perfect host was a combination of Betty Crocker and Donna Reed: perfect clothes, perfect hair, perfect food, and perfect personality all coming together to ensure her guests are well taken care of.
However, Steve Martin, a Republican State Senator from Virginia, has a different take on the what it means to be a good host. He recently received a Valentine’s Day Card from the Virginia Pro-Choice Coalition asking the state Senator to protect women’s reproductive health options — everything from raising healthy children to having access to safe, legal abortion. Martin took it upon himself to reply publicly via his Facebook page. His response originally included the following:
“…I don’t expect to be in the room or will I do anything to prevent you from obtaining a contraceptive. However, once a child does exist in your womb, I’m not going to assume a right to kill it just because the child’s host (some refer to them as mothers) doesn’t want it to remain alive.” Keep reading »
So, you think you’re ready to be a mom, huh? What kind of questions did you ask yourself: am I financially viable, is my partner on board, do we have room for this baby? All good markers of motherhood preparedness, I suppose, but let’s get real for a second.
It isn’t until I had a baby that I realized all of the above was only the beginning. Was I ready for the kind of sleep deprivation torture the folks at Gitmo only wish they’d dreamed up? Take the “Are You Ready To Be A Mom” quiz on The Stir…
They say that your life completely changes when you have a baby. That this overwhelming sense of love makes you forget all of the sleepless nights and dirty diapers, the temper tantrums and crayon marks on the freshly-painted walls. Many new mothers declare that this is what they were meant to do: bring another life into this world. I suppose this is how I feel, too — except that I’m not a mom yet.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always known that I wanted to be a mother. I used to create elaborate scenarios with my dolls as my “babies” where I was their doting mother. When I was around 14, I began babysitting for one of the local church’s childcare centers a few Sundays a month; I’d spend a couple of hours watching after babies and toddlers while their parents attended services. I bounced smiling babies on my knees, fed them bottles as they looked up at me with their big eyes, and patted their backs and sang to them as they cried. In college I made extra money by nannying for a family during the summer. I’d travel with them and their three small children, taking care of them practically 24/7. At night I was regularly woken up because of the two-year-old’s nightmares. My alarm clock was the baby wailing for his first morning bottle. But even though they weren’t my kids, I felt that emotional tug deep inside my chest. Children make me feel a peaceful happiness — like you’re living in a world where everything is pure and beautiful. Keep reading »