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And so I hold back when we talk on the phone, sometimes. I ask questions, I listen, and I make silent wishes for you. I wish for simple things, like an easy delivery and a healthy baby. I also wish for things that will happen on their own in due time, whether I wish them or not (but I do it anyway): like a good night’s sleep, and new friendships with other moms, and a pair of jeans that fit again.

Unless you ask, I don’t give advice. And when you ask, I find myself saying things like,“Well, there are lots of different ways to think about it” or “I think everyone is different, so it depends on what you believe,” which I realize is completely frustrating when all you want to know is The Answer. And then I make another silent wish that you discover as soon as possible that there is no one right answer.

I wish that as you read the books and listen to the nurses and your mom and your mother-in-law — all of whom have wisdom but none of whom have the answer — you will also read your baby and listen to your heart. That combination of looking outward for information and inward for intuition is magical, I have found.

I wish that when you find yourself clinging to The Rules — of feeding, or sleep schedules, or developmental milestones, or anything else we’re supposed to Learn All The Things About — you understand that those rules are meant to give you structure, to educate you, to guide you, and the world will not fall apart if you choose to throw them out the window.

I would like to claim this as my own and send it around to all my first time expecting friends and new moms.

She’s captured my thoughts exactly. And even has me daydreaming about a family greater than four.

Thank the Universe for IUDs that prevent impulse decision making!

Read the full post here.

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For Miles and Ivan, my memoir seemed simple. I was sad about Silvan dying, but happy about them. As we struggled together in the front hall, however, I felt the distance between us and that happy ending. Ten years on, we were living something almost harder to describe, something less dramatic, something so common people hardly ever talked about it.

We were in the midst of an ordinary life.

Take a moment out of your ordinary life today and read the whole piece.

Wow.

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Ashley Weeks Cart, having graduated with a double major of studio art and women and gender studies, added that she also loves living in a community where the arts are “deeply valued” and also easily accessible in a way that wouldn’t be the case in a city. This, she said, is going to offer “great benefits for our kids.” In the meantime, they sometimes have to stay at home with babysitters, but even this highlights another positive thing about Williamstown: “my kids’ babysitters,” she said, “are some of the smartest people in the world.”

A brief profile of young alums (ha! I can’t believe that I still get to lay claim to that title) working at Williams in the College newspaper this week.

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I’m getting back in the swing of things post-Texas. (I have fallen deeply in love with the city of Austin. More on that soon).

Last night I could have taken the time to unpack, do some laundry, catch up on emails, but instead rearranged the eternity of the girls’ bedrooms by completely swapping all their furniture, except for their beds. It was a dust shit storm of books and clothing and hair bows and stuffed animals. (So much for my resolution to be less impulsive!). I managed to get everything reorganized, but realize that that entire exercise was just a way to procrastinate unpacking. I guess I’ll tackle that task tonight. Ugh!

In the meantime, enjoy this hilarious and accurate Buzzfeed: 21 Things No One Tells You About Having a Baby. Can I get an AMEN to #18? Can’t we all just agree that it’s great babies are being fed by loving caregivers?

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Over the winter break, I had the luxury of catching up on my ever-growing reading list. Besides my monthly book club read, I rarely make the time to tackle more than one book a month. Thank you December for your grey, chilly days that prime a girl for a day spent curled under fleece blankets with a book and a cup of tea by her side!

First up, Immersion, a young adult novel by my talented friend and fellow Eph, M.J. Prest. M.J. self-published her debut novel this spring, and I must admit, I was sucked into a 24 hour literary black hole upon beginning this adventure. James, you may blame M.J. for my lack of attention to our dependents and household during that day of, well, Immersion.

The title of the novel so aptly suits the story on many levels, not the least of which is that it is the story of Atlantis weeks before its plummet into the Aegean sea. The lead character, Artemis, is a strong-willed, thoughtful 16-year old girl who I look forward to sharing with my daughters as they enter their teenage years. With novels like Twilight peppering the YA bookshelves, I’m relieved to have an option along the lines of a Hunger Games or Forest of Hands and Teeth for my daughters to enjoy as they navigate the growing-pains of their teenage years. Not only is the story exciting, complete with mermaids (and mermen!) and many sailing adventures, it tackles difficult issues of identity and class, and female empowerment and agency that my own girls will confront as they grow.

I particularly loved M.J.’s attention to the world of Atlantis. You are fully immersed in the sights and sounds and tastes of the island, drawing you closer to the story and its characters. Having experienced M.J.’s unbelievable talents in the kitchen, I was not surprised to find myself salivating at her detailed, delicious descriptions of the very food of Atlantis. Now I must convince her to cook some of those delicacies so that we may experience them firsthand.

Immersion is an  exciting coming-of-age tale that you’re sure to enjoy as much as any Young Adult. A quick read (perfect for a vacation or plane flight!), and for only $2.99, it’s far too good to miss.

Immersion available here. 

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I’ll never forget the moment it dawned on me that cajoling our children into kissing their grandparents, or hugging a friend, or being tickled against their wishes was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad way of teaching children about respect for their bodies and personal space. My friend Meg put language to this reality early into my days parenting Addison, and it has stuck with me ever since. While I ensure that my children are polite to their grandparents, elders, peers, etc., James and I never force them to hug or kiss, or be hugged or kissed, against their wishes. If they don’t want to hug or kiss, they can offer a polite “hello” and a handshake instead. That maintains our respect for their wishes to not be affectionately embraced, while still teaching them about politeness and courtesy to others.

To all adults, I STRONGLY urge you to read this piece. We are all complicit in reinforcing these problematic cultural norms that lead to much more serious consequences when our children grow up.

We’re talking to kids about sex all day, every day, without ever saying the word. We do it when grandmothers insist on a kiss and parents make children comply. We do it when we tell girls to “be nice” and “good” when they don’t want to. We do it when we tell boys to take what they want from life. We do it when we tell them that God wants them to be “strong.” We do it when we watch football games with kids on TV and spend half the game talking about players’ girl friends in the stands like they’re trophies. We do it when school administrators police clothing and use girl’s bodies as props to demonstrate violations of dress codes and reinforce heterosexual norms. We do it when we don’t allow children to pick their own clothes and chose their own hairstyles. We do it when we think it’s funny to let kids “tease” each other, even though the person being teased isn’t interested. We do it when an uncle grabs a nephew and tickles him, even though he hates it and tries to get away. Never. Ever. Saying. “SEX!”

Full post here.

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Some seasonal solace… camaraderie in darkness. I have a colleague of mine to thank for passing along this gem.

Lines Written in the Days of Growing Darkness
by Mary Oliver

Every year we have been
witness to it: how the
world descends

into a rich mash, in order that
it may resume.
And therefore
who would cry out

to the petals on the ground
to stay,
knowing as we must,
how the vivacity of what was is married

to the vitality of what will be?
I don’t say
it’s easy, but
what else will do

if the love one claims to have for the world
be true?

So let us go on, cheerfully enough,
this and every crisping day,

though the sun be swinging east,
and the ponds be cold and black,
and the sweets of the year be doomed.

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And I love Mindy Kaling…

I love women who are bosses and who don’t constantly worry about what their employees think of them. I love women who don’t ask, “Is that OK?” after everything they say. I love when women are courageous in the face of unthinkable circumstances, like my mother when she was diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer. Or like Gabrielle Giffords writing editorials for the New York Times about the cowardice of Congress regarding gun laws and using phrases like “mark my words” like she is Clint Eastwood. How many women say stuff like that? I love mothers who teach their children that listening is often better than talking. I love obedient daughters who absorb everything—being perceptive can be more important than being expressive. I love women who love sex and realize that sexual experience doesn’t have to be the source of their art. I love women who love sex and can write about it in thoughtful, creative ways that don’t exploit them, as many other people will use sex to exploit them. I love women who know how to wear menswear.

Full interview here.

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Oh man. I’m not going to pretend like I haven’t drunk the Lululemon Kool-Aid, but this is such an important reminder. As a mother to two girls, one of my biggest worries as they grow up is how they’ll perceive of themselves and their bodies, whatever size, shape, etc. they may be. And I want to be championing and supporting brands that are sensitive to the diversity of women’s bodies, and don’t reinforce unhealthy, unrealistic standards of beauty in women. There’s so much toxic noise in the world about women’s physical appearance, and I’m so terribly disappointed that a brand that should be about wellness and fitness is promoting just the opposite. Full rant from Melissa Harris-Perry here. I do love that woman.

So, instead of blaming our bodies for your poorly-made pants, Lululemon would do well to design clothes to accommodate our bodies. The thighs wear out too fast? Reinforce the fabric there. Make your expensive pants withstand all that rubbing.

Or maybe, despite the cult-like devotion to your products, women will take our big ol’ thighs to another retailer–one who won’t expect us to pay exorbitant prices for the privilege of being body-shamed.

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Take a look at any Hopper and you’ll see that even more so than he was talented at rendering people, he was talented at rendering the spaces that yawn open between people, the inviolable chasms that surround each of them, swallowing every gaze and every caress, every word whispered in the dark that the dark will reclaim.

A beautiful albeit melancholy read on this Monday morning by a Williams College student whose use of language is blowing my mind. Full post over on The Feminist Wire.