“I feel awful!” my nine-year old daughter wailed, throwing herself on the kitchen floor like a dishrag. “Please don’t make me go to school!” Her ailments grew more elaborate each morning that week. “I’m like a woodland spring in a drought!” “I’m a fairy stuck in a flower that won’t bloom!” Then, I found a... Continue Reading →
My daughter woke me at night because she had a stomachache. I knew what that meant. I placed a bucket at her bedside. I gave her a glass of water. She leaned back into her pillow. “Mom, I think that made it worse,” she croaked. Suddenly, and comically to my surprise, out of her mouth... Continue Reading →
Sometimes, when I’m peeling beets by my kitchen window, I imagine that if I finish quickly, before the squirrel nibbles that stash of nuts on my patio, the world won’t end in cataclysmic disaster. I take my massive, sludgy uncertainty about everything from my body to the way I’m raising my kids and ball it... Continue Reading →
Three years ago, we celebrated my sister’s engagement. Her friends arrived at our parents’ island lake retreat and they were kind and lovely. They talked about organic sex books with cover photos of tropical fruits and, wearing bikinis that could have fit fourteen-year olds, they spent the better part of the weekend sunning along the... Continue Reading →
My daughter’s teacher told me recently that second grade is when girls start comparing themselves to other people to find out not only who they are, but who they want to be around. Oh, snap, I thought. You mean it hasn’t even started yet? I was terrified. I thought we were already halfway through she-bop... Continue Reading →
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