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This is going to be a very unpopular opinion, but this column is about candor, so here goes. I’ve learned that “me” time is unhealthy for me. Dangerous, even. I must be working, surrounding myself with friends and family, doing for others, or sleeping. That’s it. More
Though I am, by no means, in as powerful a position as Quinn, I can definitely relate to the risk factor in going public with my mental illness. For me, the risk is more personal than professional. The definition of mother, in my mind, is someone who is strong, relentlessly loving and a martyr who constantly puts the needs of others above her own. This may sound extremely idealistic and unattainable to some of you, but I know one woman who fits this definition: my own mother. I’m sure my mom had private moments of desperation and frustration and anger, but she never revealed this side of herself when I was a child. More
Number two is on the way – soon. I’m due in less than a week. Lately I’ve been wondering – will I automatically be a pro this time around because I have done it all before? Yeah – I don’t think so. I’ve often wondered why I have such an inferiority complex about motherhood, and I think I’ve finally figured it out. Everyone else is just doing waaaaay too well. Stop showing off ladies – give the rest of us a break. More
Since suffering through that impossibly difficult first year with a challenging baby, I have never really allowed myself to get into a groove as a mother. This isnāt a sob story about how kids constantly change and ruin your perfectly laid plans. I gave up those expectations years ago. I have learned to really go with the flow in practice. Yet in my mind, I find myself always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Four years and two kids later – despite many more good days than bad – I constantly wonder āwhen is it going to be like that again?ā More
We grew our vegetables in the garden, and she canned them, standing over steaming pots in late August, so we had super-local produce all winter. She taught me how to tie my shoe, how to knit and sew, how to play cribbage. She did the latter well enough that my husband refuses to play against me now. We took the odd day off of school to take the T into Boston and visit the Museum of Fine Arts and have tea. My mom helped my dad gut and renovate a 75-year-old house themselves, with little kids in tow, and we were cloth diapered and she used the clothesline and yes, I realize that this all seems made up, because who really does this? More
They say motherhood changes a person and that may even extend toĀ Gwyneth Paltrow. Despite that the mother of two has spent the better part of her career walking up and down red carpets, wearing pricey gowns, and posing for flashy cameras, at least one of those events is getting old — or rather “un-fun.” The Met Gala. More
Last night at the 92Y Tribeca, Isabella Rossellini previewed one of her nine short films entitled “Mammas,” a contemplation of motherhood that pivots towards the animal kingdom.Ā But by juxtaposing animal behavior with that of human mothers, Isabella meditates on many of the complex threads of motherhood.Ā Specifically, the complex and loaded terrain of “maternal instinct.”
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I got a pedicure a couple weeks ago. Ā The trivial ritual that I used to take part in at least twice a month has now become one of the only little things I do to pamper myself outside of the home. You can imagine the kind of pressure that puts on the occurrence. I used to just be content if the pedicurist got the polish right and I managed to make it home without totally fucking it up. Now, the actual pedicure better be the best damn pedicure around. Okay, maybe not the best. But good. Really good. More
Motherhood is many things: primal, competitive, loving, complicated, necessary But one of its many definitions doesnāt make itself obvious until you find yourself caring for a little one of your own. In Western culture, motherhood is undeniably, desperately isolating. More
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All of this is pretty normal: woman has baby, woman wants to be with her baby. Nothing extraordinary here. The thing is so many people seem to feel entitled to TAKE — that’s right not visit with but TAKE my not-even-1-year-old daughter from her Dad and I. This isn’t a case where we are abusive and need to be relieved of our parenting duties I assure you. Nope, my in-laws and even one of my sisters constantly ask, cajole, and even demand that we GIVE them our baby. More
Seriously – I blame the media. There’s always one spread or another showing a gorgeous celebrity post-birth: skinny, giggling, holding coffee, and wearing her baby. How hard could it be? I would definitely be getting one of those wraps and wearing my baby, too. More
I have no problems being called a “mommy blogger.” I’m a mom. I blog. The shoe fits. But often I find people quickly apologizing when they label me as so. It’s almost as if the very title drips of condescension. Mothers writing about their lives has somehow become regarded as a genre full of gratuitous anecdotes, yoga pants and wine. As if that weren’t insulting enough – a recent slew of articles claims that not only is the genre frivolous – it’s unethical. More
On sites like Facebook, women preached about the highs and lows of motherhood, which inspired columns like “Can Stay-At-Home Moms Say That They Have Jobs?“Ā and “Mother Who Expect Special Treatment — For Being Mothers.“Ā And while some of the “buzz” surrounding this subject has died down, I still regularly receive submissions that capture the same idea — that mothers are valued, but they’re not like, valued. People have no idea what it takes to be a mother, or so some parents would have you believe, and get this: Moms never, ever get a break. More
My mother died, extremely suddenly, a little over two years ago. She had a rare heart attack and literally just dropped dead at home one day while my dad was at work. Despite the fact that I was living overseas at the time, she and I were incredibly close and her death is still something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully process. I try not to think about her or her passing very often, because when I do, I feel like I can barely function. I’m no use to anyone like that. It’s much, much easier to distract myself with day-to-day life rather than dwell on the loss I feel. More
