My parents were awesome
I’ve completely fallen in a sweet kind of love with My Parents Were Awesome, one of those single-serving websites that does one thing and one thing only: share vintage shots of awesome parents, all submitted by their kids.
Self-rescuing princess t-shirt – You’re darn right
I am probably betraying my geekier sensibilities here, but if we end up having a daughter this is exactly the kind of message I want her to send to the world: Seriously, I can’t think of a better shirt for a little girl to wear around. Why not give her a head start in feeling […]
Is feminist motherhood an oxymoron?
I’ve been having a very difficult time trying to marry my feminist ideals with my thoughts on what a mother should do, and I have a lot of hang-ups about whether or not I’m making enough sacrifices for my daughter.
Why you should forget the mothering magazines
The hardest part of being a mother is trying to be a mother. Let me clarify: The hardest part of being a mother is trying to be the mother everyone tells you you must be.
Silk wrap skirts, for when you can’t be bothered by maternity jeans
So there I was, lamenting the sad state of maternity pants in the world when one of the good mamas from the Twitter universe chimed in with a great idea: Forgo pants altogether. Who needs pants? Pants are awkwardly sized, too short, and a general nuisance. Dispense with them altogether and wear pretty, flowy skirts! […]
I left the music festival because it was too loud: Untangling the threads of a impending offbeat mama identity crisis
My identity as an electronic music fan (yes, ok fine: raver) dates back to 1996. But things shifted when I got pregnant.
“I thought you didn’t want kids!”
I waited as long as possible to announce my pregnancy. I told my oldest friends first. And the first reactions were: “Congratulations?” “Oh. Wow.” “I thought you didn’t want kids!”
Resist the urge to compare
It’s OK to absolutely freaking love being a Mom. You can do that, and embrace it, and that experience can define you as much as other experiences in your life. It’s not mutually exclusive to being your own woman and your own individual.