The response to my essay in the Sunday New York Times has been astonishing. The biggest learning is that we all crave a more nuanced approach to how women (and men) integrate their work and family obligations.
We were all strangers that spring of 1996. Our only connection was that we had all recently given birth at Stanford Hospital in Palo Alto, Calif., and, as recommended by our doctors, had signed up for the New Mother training class. Once a week, we sat in a circle sharing our concerns as a nurse educator led the discussion. It was like those consciousness-raising sessions from the 1960s. But, unlike our mothers who had gathered to secure their place in the world, we gathered to figure out how to be mothers in spite of it.
Read the full essay here.
Posted in 2014
Tagged Failure, Family, Feminism, Love, Making Change, Marriage, Men, Mid-Life, Mothering, Palo Alto, Parenting, Personal Development
This essay originally appeared on BlogHer.
“I’m gonna getcha,” cried my son who had just arrived home from his first fall at college. It was Christmas and our extended family was gathered to celebrate. He, this newly formed man, was on all fours scrambling after his toddler cousin. Our collective laughter spiraled the room as the new-to-walking little boy mimicked Frankenstein in his efforts to get away. My son scooped his cousin up and razzed the baby’s belly creating fits of giggles for them both.
Later, my son asked, “Mom, do you think I’ll be a good father?”
It’s such a seemingly simply question. A boy wants to emulate his role models, he wants to give love as he has been given, he wants to care and guide and support a child as he has been cared for and guided and supported. But for my son, the answer is not quite so simple. You see, my son is gay.
Image: DPA via ZUMA Press.
This essay originally appeared in Palo Alto Patch.
My beloveds who remind me why I do love Mother’s Day
Now that we are past the Hallmark part of the holiday, it’s time for some real talk about motherhood in America. Sure, I love that my three kids still make me breakfast in bed and give me cards that express their undying devotion (until, of course, I tell them they can’t take the car or stay out past their curfew). But let me tell you a few things I don’t love: Continue reading
One of my favorite artist’s sites is Gwarlingo by Michelle Aldridge. She recently created a post on Ansel Adams and used a letter he wrote one of his closest friends as an opportunity to ponder the nature of love. I have taken the liberty of copying the letter that inspired Michelle to share with you. Please take the time to discover her site. By the way, the Welsh word, Gwarlingo, can be translated to mean “the movement before the moment.” I hope you are as moved by her work as I am.
June 19, 1937
A strange thing happened to me today. I saw a big thundercloud move down over Half Dome, and it was so big and clear and brilliant that it made me see many things that were drifting around inside of me; things that related to those who are loved and those who are real friends.
This essay originally appeared on Blogher. I repost it every year on Valentines Day to honor the slowest of growths, love.
They’ve finally taken down the Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa decorations. They’ve worked their way through the January sales. What’s left to drive us to the cash registers between now and the President’s weekend rush? Valentines Day, of course! The shop windows are already filled with faux red roses, oversized pink hearts, and floating white cupids that look remarkably like my little nephew. This all wouldn’t be a problem but for the guilt and anxiety it creates in most of the marriages I know – the pressure to be romantic and swoon with unadulterated passion can be just too much to bear, particularly for those of us into our third decade of wedded bliss. Continue reading