I’m supposed to have posted weeks ago. It’s shameful, really. Why the delay? I’ve been trying to think of something to write about that isn’t about motherhood, or baby. And I keep coming up short. My yoga teacher laughed when … Continue reading
Almost six months ago I had a baby. Since then I’ve written basically nothing. (The last thing I wrote says it all.) This lack of “productivity” (I put this in quotes because productive has come to mean something else entirely in the last while, mostly having to do with milk and laundry) is for all the obvious reasons that did not seem so obvious six months ago. In fact, right before giving birth, a friend asked me to look over a piece she had written for a blog about motherhood and in it she said something about how she used to have so much time.
I think my exact words in response were, “I always resent how parents constantly say, ‘I used to have so much time; what the hell did I do with it?’ as though all childless people have nothing to do.'” My friend was very kind and said nothing. Obviously she knew I’d be laughing at myself soon enough.
This is how the story of my birth always starts. A clear, cold February night. My mother’s water breaking at 2am. Her excitement. A long coat with a fur collar. An orange Honda that might as well have been a coach with four white horses on its way to the hospital because my mother felt like a queen. Continue reading
But something told me it wasn’t ok to love my perfectly tall and thin body. Continue reading
Flapper pie told me to join a mommy group. I resisted. It’s hard to explain why. I guess I’ve always secretly liked to consider myself slightly out of the mainstream, slightly left or right of center. When I was a … Continue reading
When I was a teenager, I desperately wanted to be a hippie. I burned to stand against war and injustice, to march in protests and go to sit-ins. But when I was that age, there didn’t seem to be a … Continue reading
Years ago, I went on a date with a diabetic. This was during a time in my life when I was convinced that I would never, ever again meet someone I could possibly love, let alone spend the rest of my life with. I was 29 or so and in the thick of dealing with my body going awry and watching what I perceived as every single person I knew getting engaged or married, and so I went on a date with a man who asked me out on — if you can even recall such a time — Friendster. He claimed to be like Josh Lyman from The West Wing, and that meant a whole lot to me in those days. Continue reading
Last Sunday I woke up late and was greeted with coffee and homemade muffins and three eager children wishing me Happy Mother’s Day. Before 9AM I had homemade gifts thrust at me and a one-year-old trying her best to mimic … Continue reading
The first present my husband ever gave me was a red life jacket. It was my twentieth birthday, and because he had overlooked wrapping paper, he presented it to me half-disguised in a soft camouflage rifle case that belonged to … Continue reading
Lemon Tart is (very!) Lemon Tardy summing up the March Salon Question: What is the luxury you cannot do without and why is it indispensable to you? You all had delicious things to say. In fact, if I strung all of them together it sounds like the kind of day or weekend that would be hard to resist. Imagine 48 hours of this: