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My family is the crazy one. There are eight kids, one miniature dachshund and a lot of shouting. My parents tried to raise us Evangelical and godly, but we all had other plans. The result is that we’re like the Duggars except meaner and more likely to cuss you out. More
I grew up hiding in the hall when my dad would sneak home late at night. I lay in bed and heard my parents argue. I caught my mom crying in the bathroom, at the stove and whenever she thought we weren’t looking. And there were a few weeks, when I was eight, when my dad left on a “really long trip” as my mom called it. Years later, my dad again left. But this time it wasn’t under the guise of work. We were grown, so this time he used the word “divorce.” More
One week after my daughter was born, I uploaded 50 photos of her to Facebook. My sister messaged me to let me know that I was already clogging her newsfeed. “So block me,” I wrote. After that, I began my days as an unrepentant oversharer of the parent variety. I’m the one you hate and I don’t really care. More
We’ve been here before, my daughter and I. She was a late mover. A late roller. A late smiler. A late crawler and a late stander. At each of these milestones, I’ve done everything I can to help facilitate her growth. More
For my parents, these little home cells of religious autocracy was designed to remove us from the world around us so we wouldn’t be “tainted” by ideas like existentialism or evolution.
I don’t want this for my daughter. More
Before I got pregnant, I tried to come up with an answer to the question, “Why?” In my mind, I thought people would press me for an answer: “Why a child? Why you? Why now?” But no one did. My husband and I are white and middle class. We live in the Midwest. The only question people asked us was, “What took you so long?” More
It’s over a decade into a new century and we are still bullying girls into fairy tales. Even dressed up with vampires and prom, the heroines we’ve chosen for our daughters are interesting only because of the men they love. Without Edward or Jacob, Bella Swan would just be another vapid teen, upset because she’s skinny and pretty and has too many men interested in her. Rough stuff indeed. Or if these characters do happen to be smart and strong they are sidelined to minor roles, am I right, Hermione? Or worse, like Rapunzel in the movie Tangled, they are strong, smart and still limited by the tropes of happily ever after. More
My daughter is fat.
Once a stranger at a grocery store told me I was feeding her too much. A relative warned me about childhood obesity. A friend of a friend reassured me that my daughter would “eventually” grow into a tall willowy supermodel, eventually. And a nurse once commented that it was a shame for girls to be fat. She didn’t think anyone should start their life out like that. The only problem? My daughter is only three months old. More
When she was born, I felt totally clueless and helpless. In the hospital, as I struggled to breastfeed , a nurse offered to send in the lactation consultant. The woman who walked into our room happened to be the same consultant who taught our class. Dave, of course, remembered everything and impressed her with his knowledge. I sat dumbly on the bed, holding my screaming daughter in one arm and my tortured boob in the other. More
