I Want to Be Michelle Duggar and other true confessions of a (religious) liberal feminist mother

2011-07-29T14:26:00.000-04:00

I realize that, on the surface, it appears that I haven't been blogging. But, actually, I have. I write a little blog post in my head every day. And when the technology finally catches up with my post-post-post modern methods, you will be able to read them.

In the meantime, in case anyone wonders what I've been doing all these months, I want to share the pile of books I have on my nightstand. This is, of course, not what I have been doing with my time (I wish). But I thought, hey! that's a big pile of books, maybe I can blog about them....

THE WILDER LIFE
SCIENCE AND HEALTH
THE HEALIING LIGHT
THE SPA
THE WEIRD SISTERS
THE LONELY POLYGAMIST
MOTHERING AS A SPIRITUAL JOURNEY
BONK
THE NINTH WIFE
THE SHALLOWS
WHOLE CHILD/WHOLE PARENT
MY MONASTERY IS A MINIVAN
YOU CAN HEAL YOUR LIFE
THE ART OF PRESENCE
PARENTING FROM THE INSIDE OUT
THE NO-CRY SLEEP SOLUTION

No time to write...I have too much to read!

Come to The Writer's Life

2011-05-27T10:45:00.000-04:00

I will be speaking, along with my New York Times Bestselling mother, Nancy Thayer, and author Brian Leaf at my children's preschool fundraising event.

Get your tickets now!

The Writer's Life: Writing for Love, Writing for Money

EVENT DATE: June 2, 2011 7:00 pm at the First Congregational Church, Amherst, in the dining room.

An author panel exploring the passion behind publication as well as the practical aspects. Featuring New York Times Bestselling author Nancy Thayer, a true career novelist, whose 21st novel will be published this June. Joining her will be Brian Leaf, the author of ten non-fiction books, whose work has been widely featured in the media. Samantha Wilde, whose debut novel was published in 2009, will round out the panel as she speaks about the experience of being a new writer, landing a two-book deal, and writing women's fiction in a competitive market.

EVENT COST: Tickets are $10 in advance and $10 at the door. For tickets please email info@springstreetpreschool.org, sam@samanthawilde.com, or ziomekgardens@gmail.com. Or call 256-8442.

All proceeds go to benefit Spring Street Preschool, a private, not for profit, preschool located in the heart of downtown Amherst. With a history of 53 years in Amherst, Spring Street Preschool offers a play-filled, nurturing environment with an innovative, unique child-lead program of social, academic, artistic and spiritual inquiry.

There will be refreshments for sale, a book raffle, question and answer time, and opportunity for book signing.

Civilize Your Feet

2011-05-18T09:56:00.000-04:00

I have discovered that I am not a natural blogger. Not because I don't like to write or lack the discipline of regular posting, but because blogging doesn't DO anything for me. It doesn't feel rewarding in and of itself. In fact, sometimes it leaves me a tad bit lonely.... I never have been keen on the cyber world of anonymity.

So if you want to find me when you can't find me here, visit my website or my ministry blog which shares a heart practice, or the women writers blog that I write for every two months.

In the mean time, some treasures from my life:
My son as he got his feet onto his scooter: "Let me just get my feet civilized."
and while he spoke with his sister.
"If you don't say something, I can't hear you."

Dreaming of Writing?

2011-04-25T21:27:00.000-04:00

Check out this writing contest WITH publication in an anthology for the winners. I will be a part of it and you can too! We're looking for women writers, published and unpublished. It's a wonderful opportunity to call up the muse, get some words on paper, and maybe hold a book in your hands with your story inside.

It's a great moment to see yourself in print. Why I remember when a box of my first novel showed up on the doorstep. My son raced to the enormous package certain it was for him, ripped it open and gazed sadly down at the books. "Mama wrote this!" I picked one up. "I wrote this! This is my novel." "Go be a fire engine," he commanded me, walking away, completely unimpressed. I'm thinking this anthology will have a much more appreciative audience. Or, at the very least, an audience out of diapers.

Joan Crawford

2011-03-31T15:10:00.002-04:00

I am beginning to understand where Mommie Dearest was coming from.

Get me Amish

2011-03-22T10:23:00.000-04:00

We had a fantastic family trip down to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, where I got to enjoy a dinner at an Old Order Amish's family home, and a buggy ride (among many, many other delights).

For the longest time I've been moved and fascinated by the Amish. My recent trip only solidified my sense of envy for a life lived so integrated and so knitted into the land, the family, the seasons.

As a modern, liberal, suburban mother, the world of community open to me exists largey now, as it never has before, in cyberspace. That's a lonely place for me, as is sitting alone writing on a computer. I like people in the flesh, community with a group I can see and touch, meaning gathered from more than a few lines.

The Amish aren't perfect, but we have an emptiness that they simply don't know of. "Love your neighbor as yourself," is not an abstraction to them, it's not a $5 check to your favorite charity, or an occasional wave to the guy down the road whose name you don't know.

Call me old fashioned, but my soul hungers for that kind of community. Even among my community of wonderful friends, each woman is so busy, so consumed by her own work and world, that little is left for us to share with one another. It is hard for me to believe that this is the way we were meant to live.

So get me Amish. I'll take the head-covering and the ugly black sneakers. Shame they won't take me, which is another wonderful quality they possess as a group: they don't convert or evangelize. Got to love those people who love the way they live and don't force you to join. But if I'll have them and they won't have me, where does that leave me? Trotting down route 9 with my own horse and buggy? How to be more Amish in the modern world is now the topic on our famiy table. We will take into consideration all suggestions....

Snowy Abundance

2011-02-02T17:11:00.000-05:00

Our walkway.

Our deck!

Meditation on Abundance

2011-02-01T21:57:00.000-05:00

With the phenomenal snow we've been having, our walkway is little more than a tunnel to creep through on our way to snowblow the driveway or sled down our backyard hill.

It has its pros and cons--though for the children it is pure delight. I've been sitting looking out the window at the mounds of white thinking about abundance, the infinity of snowflakes that make up the feet of snow we now have, an impossibility of counting or even conceiving.

When I first became pregnant with my third child, a number of people (including friends) were amazed. "Three!" they'd say, as though I had announced my twentieth pregnancy.

There is a sense, at least here in our neck of the woods, that three is a LARGE family (and by local standards, it is). There is much in that to appreciate, a sense of abundance, a plethora of children, a gaggle, a gang, a brood. (Now when people call and leave messages they say: "We hope you and your gang are doing well.) We are nowhere near having a sports team of any kind, and compared to a true large family, ours is indeed small, but I take pride (not insult) in the quality of abundance that comes from having an "extra" child. To have him, in addition to my older two, is to be rich in children.

It is this sense, when I look out at the snow, that in God's creation, in the language of the Divine, the communication of Universal Goodness and Love, no lack exists. To the contrary, there is nothing but plenty--and I do not mean plenty of ill, bad, and trouble. All that we need is given to us, in fact, MORE than we need.

I do not want anything for anyone else save what they want (which is to say I think all people ought to have the size family their heart desires, be it no children, one, two or several). What would be lovely is for each of us to feel the plenty around us, to feel there is as much love available as snow (as sun on a sunny day), that our cup is running over in streams of plenty, that we are knee deep in goodness, that the walkway-- our path in this world--is a tunnel, with God's hands cupped around us, a light ever before us.

Out of Gas

2011-01-27T21:09:00.002-05:00

Today, in one of those extraordinary feats of the universe speaking in metaphor, I found myself in a car with no gas. We weren't going anywhere. Then I found myself dialing a cell-phone with no battery. "Low battery-turnning off..." And later, starting up a computer with no charge.

Truly, the only kind of gas we had here today came with this follow up: "Who tooted, Mama? Was that the baby?" Indeed, the vegetarian diet has some benefits, as does an infant sibling, always ready to be blamed for gross behavior (innocently unaware and generally speaking pretty much perpetually full of gas).

The behavior was terrible. I was out of gas, the two exhausted older children wretched and unmoved by my pitiful state as She-Who-Needs-Her-Battery-Charged.

After long naps (and let's be honest, a healthy dose of chocolate), things looked much better. What do people do when children stop napping? What do people do who don't believe in the Great Gifts of the universe delivered so pun-ily through the day?

I am recharging. God is my power source--a truly renewable resource.

Mother prejudice?

2011-01-20T16:26:00.000-05:00

The life of mothers seems only to be of interest to other mothers. I'm not sure why this should be so, after all, the average person can be extremely interested in the life and work of people very different from oneself. It is my guess, though I could be wrong, that a deep prejudice exists where mothers are concerned, stemming from a thickly erronous understanding of the work of motherhood, leaving mothers to talk (and write and read) among themselves for no one else cares about their sippy cup and cloth diaper debates.

If I can use my own novel as an example (and who could object to that?), THIS LITTLE MOMMY STAYED HOME (title says it all, doesn't it?) was assumed to sell only to other moms and other women--chick lit, mama lit, that sort of thing. What's funny about this categorization is that it doesn't work in the other direction. I'm a woman and a mother and I read books about men and Pakistan and travel and volcanoes and...you get the idea. Why then is the writing about motherhood of no interest to, for example, your average Wall Street banker? For I can say with some certainty that I know many a book group that has read about those guys.

Is it because we (mis)perceive the significance and richness of the motherhood experience? Honestly, I've read books with protagonists I have absolutely nothing in common with--save in the area of emotion. Why isn't this the case for literature about motherhood? Or even talk about moterhood? Either it is true that motherhood is so dull no one can relate unless they are also a mother, OR, motherhood is so unique that no one can relate who isn't a mother.

I am wondering. Why wouldn't a man, a journalist who's traveled the globe, pick up the memoir of a mother when that same mother would read that man's memoir? Has our sexism abated save in the motherland? Or have we as a culture sold the identity/profession/path too short, dumbed it down to its tedious details (the laundry, the snot)?

I would like to know.

Blogging Again as the Anti-Blogger

2011-01-14T17:21:00.000-05:00

A good true confession: I don't like blogs. As I'm blogging this, that should say it all.

I don't have anything personal against blogging, I just have a hard time reading things on a screen. If someone wants my attention, I'd prefer a letter. So while I have tried to read other blogs, even a sentence or two may seem too much to keep my focus--though I will sit and read a novel in a day.

Why blog when I am not of that blogging world? When I was the last hold out for an email account among my friends, the last to get a cell phone, when I have still maintained my decision not to facebook/tweeter/get linked in to anyone anywhere in the cyber world?

In part because I have not found, in my feeble fumbling around the web, any place representing the liberal, feminist and devout way of being in the world, and because I began this blog at the publication of my first novel to have a place in the cyber world to "meet" people and so want to continue what I've begun, though change it somewhat to reflect all the various parts of my life: as mother, writer, minister, teacher, yogini, student, believer.

That said, I don't think the web is the place where all the true stuff happens, but a place where it *may* begin. Deep friendship, love, fortefied faith, hope on hopeless days, wisdom, strength for going forward, kindness and joy--they are not here in totality, but like a door opening, may draw us to connect with real people (including ourselves) in real ways. Anonymity, and the crude criticism it allows, have too great a home on the web. I don't think blogs and websites provide a venue for the best of who we are as humans (sometimes missing it by a long shot), but occasionally we do find that we are not alone in this world. And that is a beginning.

And also, so often, we write for no readers, we blog and post and no one notices. But then we write what we need to write for ourselves--and therefore we must be the ones who needed to hear our own message. If a voice crying in the wilderness hears itself, has it been truly heard?

I'm going to have to go with a YES on this one.

For the new year

2011-01-12T22:13:00.001-05:00

This blog is having a metamorphosis. It is currently a work in progress.

Visit my new website: samanthawilde.com in the meantime. Whoohoo.

The Joys of Mediocrity

2010-09-17T18:37:00.002-04:00

Having just finished Mary Pipher's (of "Reviving Ophelia" fame) book "Seeking Peace," I can absolutely recommend it to make you feel better about the ordinary mediocrity of your own life and successes. And not to talk about you, but it sure made me feel better about me--or more than better, grateful and relieved that my first novel didn't bring me incredible wealth, an interview with Oprah, or a cross-country book trip with adoring fans throwing themselves at me.

Yes, riches and fame can be a very bad thing as Pipher points out. Can't recommend the book highly enough for that reason. There's nothing like been thankful for life as it is. Byron Katie teaches that when you don't get what you want, you ought to say: "I've been spared." We don't know from what--or sometimes we do. In either case, sometimes not getting what we imagined would be best is the true blessing.

And to hear it from Pipher, whose book is subtitled "Chronicles of the Worst Buddhist in the World," wealth and celebrity suck. Better a small life. That's what we're enjoying here as the season changes, one green leaf becoming red at a time, the last tomatoes to pick, and the almost here-ness of baby number three, who won't bring me any money or fans (and who will probably make me very tired, right, even more tired than I am sleeping nine months pregnant), but who is still, and very much, what we here have wanted, some of us for a long time (me) and some of us only more recently converted to the idea of a "bigger" (I don't know when three kids become big, but it has) family (my very cool husband who swore he only wanted two until he changed his mind and decided out of love for me and the children we already have that I could have my bonus kid). In the end, I'd rather have children than fame, and when I think of the higher hopes I had for my novel, I get to remind myself where the real riches are without having to go through the trouble Mary Pipher dealt with to get there.

If you're at all feeling poor, in any way, the book may well make you feel richer and it's a quick, easy read.

Ah, The Triumph

2010-08-19T11:31:00.002-04:00

Having returned from our grand overseas vacation, six whole weeks on the sunny island of England (no irony there, actually, as it only rained three days and we went to the beach several times a week and got TANS), I can finally relax into preparation mode for baby number three--closet reorganizing, furniture shopping and listening assiduously to my hypnobirthing CD.

Well, relax is a relative term. After the birth of my daughter, more than two years ago, the universe delivered me some growth opportunities (um, yes, irony there), in the form of one debilitating case of anxiety, a popular malady in my family, but one I had gratefully been relieved of having in heavy doses--until then.

After two years of what I think of as particularly funny post-partum woe (much harder to laugh at your own post partum depression, but the post partum anxiety? Waking your husband at three in the morning convinced you're having a heart attack (heartburn)? Now that stuff is very funny. In fact, I have a whole routine worked up that someday, I'm sure, I'll be able to perform to large masses of women in huge theaters around the globe. But anyway, I digress), I had to face my ultimate phobia, flying on a plane. I have flown on many planes over the course of my life. I flew frequently between my two divorced parents as a child and for pleasure as a teenager and adventure in my twenties, but over time grew more and more afraid of it.

It would be hard to underestimate the sense of bravery I felt once I'd clicked my seat belt for our flight to London. To even sit there, going on a trip that was almost entirely for my husband, and therefor lacking any personal motivation, six months pregnant, with a four and a two year old, so frightened my knee caps were shaking, drew to mind Eleanor Roosevelt's famous quote: "You must do the thing you think you cannot do." Well, I did. And I'm better for it.

The truth is, I have called upon the same thing over the years of my life when in trouble or pain or fear, and I did it again as I've worked with healing from this post partum anxiety. My spiritual practice has sustained me, even when I have felt it ebb almost completely away. There is no doubt in my mind that God, as I understand God, got me on that plane and delivered me safely back. Now as to the matter of how I understand God...

That's a much longer and undoubtedly more boring post. I just wanted to send a word out to all the mamas who endure the same anxious days and nights, often in the first few years after children come along, that you are not alone--in any way--and peace is more possible than we even know--if we believe. Well, I believe, anyway. Sometimes with each breath I've got to believe again for the first time. Which is a good practice, entirely like motherhood, beginning again every time you think of it, to be more like the mother you'd like to be, courageous and kind.

Is It Just Me?

2010-07-24T11:36:00.001-04:00

So your husband takes you on a lovely English vacation with trips to London, to see castles and for cream teas, and all you care about is: a) where the nearest toilet is b) the source of your next meal c) when the children will go to sleep so you can go to sleep and d) where you can put your feet up.

I'm sure some more sophisticated, interesting human being would care about more than these four things. Alas, I am not that person. Something about pregnancy, inparticular third trimester (although morning sick first trimester too), reduces my interests to two simple things: rest and food. Am I the only one to feel this way? Is it hormonal? I have been, for most of my life, more in love with my backyard than any foreign country. What wanderlust I had got spent in my early twenties traveling across the country. I've always felt that Americans should see more of their own homeland before they ventured off to Paris and Italy and when asked--recently by my husband--if I'd like a day trip to Paris, I merely shrugged. (Thinking: No, I'd like to have a few hours by myself to sort the children's clothing and make room in our tiny house for a third baby. Actually.)

More than being a homebody, I've become more sure over time that whatever is over there, wherever there may be, is probably not much better than what's over here. In fact, despite not being totally in love with my current home town, I have been known to head over to the town beach, take a swim, and return home saying, "There is no more beautiful place on earth than here." I feel that about where I live.

Of course, England has some amazing hedges. I've been on the hedge tour. Every now and then you can peak through them to see the views. But I'm hardly a good travel guide with my hot, swollen, feet and my lusty cravings for a mattress and a good pillow. I would like to know if any "hard" research has been done on the travel habits of the pregnant female. I'd venture to guess that most of them are keen to nest and wait a few years on the Eiffel Tower trip. Anyone got studies to back me up?

Go TO Sleep!

2010-07-18T10:44:00.002-04:00

Now that I have had the opportunity to witness first hand the long-term (and short-term) effects of cumulative sleep loss in the persons of my two very tired children who on average have lost between 2-3 hours of sleep a night over this vacation, I can personally affirm the research I've read and believed all along. Children must sleep. They must sleep a lot.

I have a son who, since infancy, has done best with tons of sleep. Most recently, twelve hours at night and a good hour nap, sometimes two hours. My daughter's natural appetite is somewhat less, as she tends to be need about 11 to 1.5 and a similar nap (and at 20 months younger).

But the fascinating chapter from Nurture Shock (a book I highly recommend) on the correlation between mood disorders, IQ and obesity (to name a few) with sleep loss in children coupled with seeing my two so compromised, makes me feel even more fervently that we should all, well, go to sleep! For longer.

I've been known to say, jokingly, that all the world's problems would be solved if we could all get a good night's sleep. Apparently, I have been right.

In my parenthood, I've been determined to uphold night time and nap time. Two books that I worked with, The No Cry Sleep Solution, and Healthy Child, Healthy Sleep Habits, educated me about the critical sleep need for infants and toddlers (while also making me feel better about my own sleep habits and why I feel so cranky when I don't get enough). I can't recommend them enough. And for mothers who are having trouble with their young children, maybe more sleep is the answer--or an earlier bedtime, or more incentive for a mid-day nap.

There are so many worthwhile statements in Nurture Shock, I don't have time to record them but leave you with this thought: "Sleep is a biological imperative for every species on earth. But humans alone try to resist its pull. Instead, we see sleep not as a physical need but a statement of character. It's considered a sign of weakness to admit fatigue--and it's a sign of strength to refuse to succumb to slumber."

Long live the truly strong among us, who, like myself, are keen to admit their fatigue!!

Travels with Children

2010-07-15T16:28:00.003-04:00

Since I've gone out of my way to complain about my traveling woes, I'd like to spend some quality blogging time detailing some of the more lovely aspects of being abroad with my just four and two year-old.

Or perhaps you can think of these as pointers. If you plan to hike/walk with children along the many public footpaths in England definitely do bring chocolate and candies so that you can, in Pavlovian fashion, train your children to continue to walk by feeding them. Do not, however, bring along your stroller. It will not fit over, around or through. Anything.

Some might believe that there is no good food in England. This is not so. We have enjoyed a number of culinary products, chief among them: cheese. No food is enjoyed more by my two children, my eldest in particular. However, like most indulgences, it has its down side. "Sweetie, can you say constipation?" Some of the other foods we have loved: milk chocolate by Cadbury (nothing like the way it's made in the states), fresh peas in a pod, every kind of berry, grown here locally in Kent, carrots and broccoli (even the brown broccoli tastes good), beer (I'm not drinking but my husband claims it's excellent), and bread. You can buy delicious bread here from the grocery store for the equivalent of less than two American dollars. Amazing.

Finally, there is the wee issue of translation. As my husband instructed me on the plane over, do not ask for a napkin when you want to wipe your hands or they'll give you a maxi-pad. (Apparently the word "napkin" is coming into favor more, which I appreciate, since I felt silly asking for a serviette.) If an old man approaches you and says, "Hello, love," he's not a pervert, he's merely British. My son was asked the other day by a school age child, "Do you speak English?" Clearly we don't. In this country, your backyard is your garden. The mailbox is the postbox. The garbage can is the dustbin. And that diaper, it's a nappy. I have, on occasion, resorted to baby sign language (the only kind I know), with sales clerks in the hopes of conveying my meaning.

There is one thing I have noticed the English do very well. Strollers. They are so sexy, so fantastic, so stylish, I may well pay to bring one home. They have these cute little umbrellas that attach and old-fashioned style pram tops with jog-stroller type wheels. Luckily, I am having another baby or how else could I justify such an indulgence? I will buy one, load it up with cheese and chocolate, and bring it home.

Bad Lit, Good Chick? Or Bad Chick, Good Lit?

2010-07-09T17:23:00.004-04:00

I read an interesting review of my novel the other day, picked up by my Google notifier that tells me anytime anyone mentions my book (so be careful!!). It was a fine review, but one part of it struck me. The author wrote about how, since she was happy with her husband during her child's first year of life, she couldn't identify with the protagonist in my book. Because of this, she didn't love the book.

Now what fascinates me is the criteria for judging books among the chick-class. We decide whether or not we like a novel based on whether or not we can directly identify with the main character. As someone who reads voraciously, who spent four years getting a higher education in English, I can assure you that I have loved many novel with a nasty protagonist I could not imagine myself into.

With all serious literature (and much of men's fiction), there is no need to read only what you can directly relate to as if it were one's own life. Why the limitation among women?

I've had countless women who have NO children tell me how much they liked my book. Is it possible that while many people read novels about life in Iraq or Italy, people who live in Ohio or Utah, that while many women read novels with male main characters, and many men read novels with female main characters (in fact one of my friend's husbands stayed up until one in the morning because he couldn't put my book down, yes, my book about a new mother), that CHICKS who read lit are so limited by their own experience they can't judge a book if they aren't the main character themselves?

Because where does that leave Shakespeare and Milton and Grisham, for that matter? Oh, I think chicks may be able to do better, stretch themselves out. After all, I'm a chick and I just finished a book about a Buddhist man. It was very funny. If you're feeling like a Buddhist man, you may even enjoy it: Breakfast with Buddha.

Interview with Self

2010-07-01T16:22:00.002-04:00

Enquiring minds want to know: what's the hardest part of being nearly seven months pregnant and in England with two young children?

You want to know what it's like? You want to KNOW, is that it? In the first place, I'd like to take a deep breath and do a sun salutation but in the place we're staying but the ceilings are too low to raise your arms up over your head. And while my dear offspring have yet to settle into a rhythm after these weeks, and still are getting up at seven and not falling asleep until nine and only occasionally nap and then usually in the car, and when I have to sit with them in the car while they nap the sweat drips down my back and pools near my bottom, this is not the hardest part.

Here's the hardest part: I adore them. I love to mother them. I love to feel like I'm doing a good job--and to see them reflect this. Alas, on this trip I have felt like screaming: THESE NASTY BEASTS DON'T BELONG TO ME. In particular this is true of my son who has taking to either hitting me when I demand he do something, or threatening to hit me, usually in the neighborhood of twenty-seven times. Yes, please tell me this is a phase.<

Okay, enough with your complaining. What's the best part?

Good question. Maybe the times I've walked down the high street (what they call the main street with all the shops) in a town near us called Whitstable where there still exists a baker, a butcher, a cheese shop, a veggie/fruit store, a fish market, and a sweets store. It reminds me of the sweetness and simplicity of how life may have been in the way long ago...and also could still may, may still be in the future. And too there have been a few truly joyful moments with the children, when yesterday my boy got on a big jumping pillow at this adventure playground and tears came to my eyes at the sight of his pleasure. You know it hurts my heart to feel so distant from them--to be the disciplinarian so ceaselessly. Now that's the hardest part.

Well, no one asked you to be so serious.

You're right. The hardest part is the cheese. Cheese at every meal. Cheese every day for lunch. Don't make me explain why this is hard.
On the other hand, the best part is the cheese. Cheese at every meal. Cheese every day for lunch. Tasty cheese.

Olympic Vacationing

2010-06-26T16:33:00.003-04:00

A brief list of where we've visited in our week and a half in Kent.

Leeds Castle
Dymchurch
Hythe
New Romney
Royal Tunbridge Wells
Tankerton
Broadstairs
Sutton Valence
Sittingbourne
Whitstable
Seasalter
Bapchild

(This does not include the many, many, many towns we have driven through giving the children their naps.)

Today we went for a second time to Leeds Castle, a gorgeous place with not just a castle but ponds and walks and open lawns and play structures and swans and peacocks wondering around as well as ducks and geese and birds of all kinds.

Adeline, who has inherited my keen delight in babies, strolled around after a gang of four ducks this afternoon calling them "baby ducks," even though they were full grown. As they approached an enormous, beautiful male peacock, resting in the shade, she said: "There's your mama, ducks. There's your mama." I didn't bother to correct her. I could see how it would make perfect sense to a two-year old mind. Little bird is baby, big bird is mama. Never mind that the pretty peacocks are all male.

We've succeeded in moving up bedtime. From 10:30 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. Oh, the luxury in that last hour of the day!

The Comforts of Home

2010-06-23T17:47:00.002-04:00

Clearly, I'm not a good traveler and while I expected to be homesick on this trip, I did not anticipate exactly what I would be homesick for. I thought I'd miss the comforts of home, but I actually miss the comforts of home.

Well, it's England, and things are smaller here. Like cars and houses and bathrooms. That's fine; it will keep me trim. But what about the small amount of hot water? Or the lack of dishwashers? These people are so evolved they charge a pollution fee if you drive into London. You can drive for eight years on a tank of gas. We're working so hard in America for this kind of enlightenment? It's terrible.

Give me the endless American cars fit to the endless American buts and the wasteful, negligent consumption of everything. It's so, so, so...comfortable.

The children love it. Every time we go into a public bathroom, Adeline squeals with delight: "A little sink!" All the sinks are the right height for the children to wash their hands. We even went for a ride on the world's smallest passenger steam train the other day. Very relaxing, especially compared to the driving which requires constant vigilance and a keen sense of the length of your side mirrors.

I'm not complaining, of course. I would never complain. How can you complain when it stays light until well after ten p.m. in a place where people, in all sincerity, call you "mate?" I don't miss all those awful, rude Americans. Just their very big rental houses with room to turn around in the bathroom. (While helping Ellias in the potty today--wipe his backside if you must know--I heard Daddy say, "You need to move forward a little," to which my son replied, "You have to go out into the hallway so there's room.")

Travel Delights

2010-06-19T16:26:00.003-04:00

I suppose one question might be: how many hours do you spend attempting to get your child to nap before you give up? Is three two many? Because really, at a certain point, you lose track of the goal (sleeping child), and find you've arrived in a twilight zone of repetitive Twinkle Twinkles and monotonous rocking and while you've put YOURSELF to sleep, the child is still awake.

Hmmm, yes, life after jet lag in a new country in a new place with a two year old who's never been in a twin bed before! Most of the past few days has been spent getting the children to sleep, being infuriated that they aren't, and resorting to pathetic methods of bribery because my own coping skills are so poor due to the time change and lack of sleep and the fact that my children will not go to sleep! (You see the terrible circle in all this.)

I'm sure it will get better. In the meantime, my son has been threatened with nothing to eat for a day but cucumbers (my husband's idea), and my daughter, who doesn't have any idea what one is, has been threatened with a spanking. When asked: do you want a spanking? She replied: Yes, and started to giggle.

These are parenting methods that don't work. But what does? Day by day we try things out.

On the upside, it's fifty degrees here and windy and rainy. Maybe there's not just a time change, but a season change as well. This is good for a pregnant woman, I guess. I don't have to worry about swollen feet from the heat, but isn't it June?

Anyway, enough complaining. They have castles here. That makes up for a lot.

European Vacation

2010-06-12T17:11:00.003-04:00

Last time I got back from a trip that required airplane travel, I spent many months saying, in response to the generic questions "How are you?", as long as I'm not on a plane, I'm fine. Because, as it so happens, I would rather be pretty much anywhere but on a plane.

Yet, I will be on a plane in two days for SEVEN (count 'em) hours with my ever-expanding baby belly and my two children all of almost four and two. Does this sound like fun to anyone out there? If it weren't for the pregnancy, I'd sign on for enough medication to get me seriously drooling and out of commission for every last second of that flight.

On the bright side, I've taken this opportunity to go shopping and acquire everything imaginable for the comfort of my plane ride. I'm usually a Salvation Army kind of girl, but for this trip, it's been brand new all the way. There is some therapy in shopping I've realized. I only wish I could shop on the plane. (And don't tell me I can virtually. I want the distractions of the store.)

Who know how much blogging will get accomplished while we are in England. (I should say: whilst we are in England), though I will certainly try.

In the meantime, send me your good thoughts to keep the plane afloat, free of maniacs-on-board (my children being the exception), and as peaceful as a yoga class. Ommmmmmmmmmm.

Dancing on the Cervix

2010-06-09T22:17:00.002-04:00

You know what I'm thinking of? Lionel Richie, of course. And oh, it is such a feeling, when the little two pound baby tap dances across my cervix. The beauty of a third pregnancy is that, as I no longer have any muscle tone, I get to experience all the wonders of pregnancy a little bit earlier.

Like baby kicks on my cervix. And Braxton Hicks contractions. Which I have been feeling since month four! Imagine that. I keep telling my husband how strong this baby is. I've been able to visually see the kicks for weeks now. Only to find out, after I talked to the midwife, that the reason my next child seems like a Sumo wrestler is because I'M ALL STRETCHED OUT.

Let's hope this comes in really handy during labor when the baby simply falls out of my lax, lazy pelvic muscles. Apparently, no amount of Kegels can combat the taxed muscles of my upper pelvis, not that I don't try. I am a constant Kegel-er.

According to the children, the baby will come out of my belly button. Now THAT I would like to see (as if it weren't amazing enough to have an eight pound person emerge from the vagina). Luckily, my vagina is bigger than my belly button. I hope this is true for the rest of you. But, hey, if it's not, that would be unique and you could probably get your own show on TLC, so everything has an upside.

Mother? Or is it Housewife?

2010-06-04T20:03:00.002-04:00

While I have many gifts, cleaning is not one of them. Nor is cooking. I don't consider myself particularly gifted at mothering, but I love it, and my desire to be good at it makes up for some of the actual imperfections (I think. Ask the kids in a decade). But what I didn't realize--apparently I was not paying attention--is that more than half of mothering is, actually, cleaning. (Or is it eighty percent?)

How can that be? I enjoy playing with my children, singing to them, reading to them, taking them to the park, to classes, on play dates, around the yard to look at slugs and other fascinations, so how is that so much of my job has nothing to do with these things? Instead, I am to clean the kitchen and wash the grimy, finger-printed, finger-painted table, and figure out how to vacuum while the children wrestle with each other at my feet, and how to do laundry (not just wash it, but have it dried and folded and PUT AWAY). But you know all this. You do all this: make the doctor appointments and the special shoe shopping trips and peel stickers off the floor and the car and your clothes.

I may be especially handicapped in this area. I have certain friends whose houses simply put me to shame. How do they do it? WHEN do they do it? WHY do they do it? How come I can't do it?

To Hell With All That, a fantastic book of essays, has a piece about the difference between a mother and housewife. (Mothers are housewives and housewives are mothers but the emphasis is different). I am definitely a mother, so why should my household failures bother me so? I mean, is it that bad to clean the floor with my bare feet? Have you done this? Walk around and once the cheerio or the sticker or the old noodle attaches to the bottom of your foot, you peel it off and voila, slightly cleaner floor. I have yet to find the equivalent to this method in cooking. Any ideas?

Keep Truckin'

2010-06-01T16:05:00.003-04:00

Wouldn't it be nice to have your own personal cheerleader? (Provided she also cleaned house, did laundry, cooked meals and gave professional, therapeutic massages?)

Because then someone would say to you: keep going. You're doing an awesome job.

Sometimes, because I'm like this, I tell myself what a great job I'm doing.

And you know what? I feel much, much better. And then I do a better job.

Now you won't believe me because I haven't been watching you, but I don't doubt that you're doing an awesome job too.

Think of the baseball players. What makes them great? Hitting the ball thirty percent of the time! Talk about setting the bar low. As my husband pointed out, you don't want a surgeon with those kinds of numbers, but a mother? Might be good enough.

Last Day

2010-05-28T16:11:00.002-04:00

Today was my son's last day of his first year of preschool and while I was looking around at the playground afterwards searching for the champagne, no one else seemed to think it was in order. So much for marking the major milestones...

After all, aren't we the same people who posted online photographs of the kid the first time he a) clapped his hands b) peed on the potty c) picked his nose? Yes, we are!

And aren't we the same people who called up the grandparents the first time she a) rolled over without being gentle led into it by our hands b) sat up c) talked back to us in our own angry tone of voice?

I was thinking, on the drive home, oh, time goes so quickly! And then, getting unsentimental, I remembered how slowly some of these days have gone. I suppose they're both true. Just yesterday (it seems) he was a babe in diapers drooling on my shoulder, when actually, just yesterday, he ripped some buckets out of my daughter's hands and said: "No more bucket time! Bucket time is OVER!" What a lovely moment. I saw with perfect clarity just how I act when I attempt to discipline.

Now he's grown his four years as a child, and I've grown mine as a mother. This mothering thing has a steep learning curve; I'm happy to say I think I'm getting better. Very slowly.

Why This Blog Is Lame

2010-05-24T20:56:00.003-04:00

I don't know if anyone else can claim this great title, but it suits me, so I'm taking it. I am the anti-blogger. I am the blogger who doesn't even like blogging. I am the blogger who doesn't do facebook, who will not tweet. In fact, in graduate school, I refused to have an EMAIL account (and I'm not that old so yes they existed back then and yes that's how people communicated). I was the only person in the entire school without one. I insisted on being PHONED for all communication. Can you imagine?

And now that I use the cyber world slightly more than that, I still will not bend the very few Luddite scruples I have left. (And after an enlightening program on the shameless privacy policies of Facebook aired on NPR which I heard, I am quite happy about my choice.) And then, to get to the point, my blog is lame because it's not a gushing confessional (think I'm going to write about my sex life, fights with my husband, and my worthless boss). Nor is it a political firework. (Although I have said before and will say again that writing about diapers and poop IS a political act.) And, I do not appear naked anywhere. I don't talk about celebrities. I don't date them either.

Alas for the six of you who read this. Where's the meat? Where are the goods? And for that matter, where's all the advertising? Am I the only blogger left who isn't hawking goods for a dozen companies? (Yeah, I am selling my own book. And if you click on it you'll get to Amazon, but really, you should be a better person than that and buy it at your local bookstore.)

Anyway, I'm still right. I'm as right as I was back in seminary when I refused email. Communication is always better face to face--if not then voice to voice. And the only world I want to be a part of isn't cyber. Call me old-fashioned. Call me lame. I want people for dinner and play dates. (And yes, occasionally, I do long for a few comments left on my posts, but not nearly as much as I long for company.) Now that I'm thinking about it, maybe I could start up a whole website about this, a whole network of people just like me, blogging and connecting and posting all about how much they don't like the internet. Think it would work?

The Chocolate is Back

2010-05-20T09:30:00.002-04:00

One of the saddest, sorriest, most devastating side effects of my pregnancies has been a total lack of interest in chocolate. In fact, just a month ago, my husband bought me some of my favorite chocolates. They sat in the house untouched for days. Then I gave them to my mother. (Never mind being too sick to get out of bed, not being able to eat all day, constant nausea, and an aversion to the smell of my own house.)

Begs the questions: who am I? Without my chocolate, do I even exist?

I am happy to announce that a very small, modest, controlled desire for chocolate has resurfaced in my life. Though it will not lead me to eat an entire box of Whitman's chocolates in one sitting, I do believe there is a light at the end of the tunnel and I may well become the person I used to be.

In the meantime, morning sickness, as usual, has proven to be my best diet and people cannot stop saying, "You look so thin!"

Amazing what happens when you take a daily chocolate regiment out of a diet. Still, colors weren't as bright, laughs weren't as hearty, sunsets weren't as brilliant without chocolate in my life. I'm so glad you're back, dear chocolate. But what a shame that you give me terrible heartburn; can we work on that?

Isn't it always the ones you love who hurt you?

You're Having a WHAT?

2010-05-17T20:15:00.002-04:00

Now that it's officially, official (little baby ultrasound pics. and everything),I can start blogging and blabbing about baby number three due in October.

I thought I'd start with some of my favorite responses to this little announcement:

"I'm happy for you...I think."

"I can't believe you're having another kid!"

"Did you...make a mistake?"

"Was this planned?"

And these are no innocent strangers. These are friends! Yes, shocking though it may be, I wanted to have a third child in this age of only children. If I had it my way, I'd probably have a whole lot more; despite my imperfect parenting, I love it. You'd think from these comments I'd announced my 20th child! Like some crazy, quiverful movement fundamentalists! I'm AMISH folks, get it straight. Amish, feminist, liberal and religious. Geez. And yes, I'll give birth with a long dress on and a bonnet. So you can be happy for me, really. I am not merely at the mercy of my biology like all those poor babes a hundred years ago. I HAVE birth control. I just don't use it. :-)

Hanging Out With the Food Throwers

2010-05-12T12:29:00.003-04:00

I got a number of responses after blogging about loneliness and motherhood. Reading a a great essay, "Tell Your Secrets," by Ariel Gore, included in the book Your Children Will Raise You, I came across this:

"I'll never get used to the reality that motherhood is such an isolating experience. There's hardly a more common profession, yet many of us feel completely alone. Our individual homes and our time constraints keep us from one another. And labels--bad mother, good mother, stay-at-home mother, working mother, single mother, and the rest--not only encourage guilt and undermine our efforts but also divide us as potential allies."

I do wonder, often, if motherhood isolates as much in other cultures--or if it did in other times? Or if our time and place isn't a particularly isolating one, separated as we are by our technologies and our suburban privacy. My husband tells me that the idea of private property doesn't exist in the same way in England. They have walking paths that cross individual property all over the country. You just keep walking respectfully.

Sounds good.

Happy Mother's Day!

2010-05-09T20:59:00.002-04:00

What else does Mother's Day make you think of but shopping?

Flowers, candies, chocolates...books!

New motherhood can run the gamut from simply exhausting to severe-depression inducing, and a card once a year makes it all worth while.

Seriously, now, there is no other time like that first year: intense, overwhelming, amazing, acute. That's the main reason I wrote my first novel--when my son was nine months old. I'd never known anything like it, despite what friends and family had told me. And every time I talk to a new mother, my heart responds in sympathy.

So I've concocted a Mother's Day challenge. For every person who gives a copy of my novel, THIS LITTLE MOMMY STAYED HOME, to a new mother (first year of motherhood) in her/his life, I will donate two dollars to MotherWoman. MotherWoman is an incredible local (to the Amherst, Mass) resource for mothers of all kinds and stage. If you don't know a new mother to give the novel to, you can simply blog about the challenge and the book, and send me the link, and I will donate two dollars to MotherWoman. (When you visit their link you can also see their mother's day fund raiser.)

True, there's some shameless self-promotion in here. I DO want people to buy the book. But it's also been powerful for me to receive the letters and emails from the mothers who have read it who feel that it is has helped them tremendously. Here are a few samples from a few of these--and keep in mind these are all people I do not know. (And I didn't bribe or pay them to say these things!)

It is 5:00 am, that terrible time you describe in your book when it's too early to get up and too late to go back to sleep - I've been up since 2, actually, and just finished your book - I cannot even tell you how much it helped me... thank you, thank you. --A Massachusetts Mama

Thank you for writing the book This Little Mommy Stayed Home. It was one of the best books I have ever read, honestly. Very truthful, very funny, very real. Reading your book helped me focus on something else, and laugh along with you. It was great, and I am so thankful that I found your book to help me through the hard times. I am just sad that I am done with the book now. --An Iowa Mama

I just wanted to write you to let you know how much I'm enjoying "This Little Mommy Stayed Home." I've been reading it non-stop (in my "free" time between working full time and taking care of my four year old daughter) and I am so amazed by how funny, accurate, and wonderful this book is! I just took it with me on my lunch break and almost started to cry (I am toward the end now). You've captured everything I was feeling as a new mom and it's really made me think about and remember how hard that first year was. --West Coast Mama

Thank you for the gift of this book. --NYC Mama

That's just a small sample!

Here's all you need to do: Give a copy to a new mom. Pick one up at a local bookstore, at Cradle, in Northampton, or online.
OR
Blog about the challenge and the book (if you don't know a new mom) to spread the word to other new moms.
Then, drop me a line at wildemama@hotmail.com and let me know. I will donate $2 for every book given or blog posted. I would love to make more than a small offering to MotherWoman! (More than ten bucks, anyway!) They do so much good for women in a time when we really need it--when don't we need it?

The Way It Is

2010-05-05T15:39:00.002-04:00

Now you'd think my single biggest gripe with motherhood would have something to do with the way the children gang up on me whenever I want them to do something and run for cover under the baby's crib where I can only reach them if I am willing to drag them out by their ankles. (Which makes me think of city and town "leash laws" for dogs that essentially say you either need to have voice control over your animal or put it on a leash. Hmmm. I think I need two leashes. No way can I direct these children with my voice.)

Moving right along from what is NOT my biggest woe to what is. And frankly, most times, it's a sense of isolation. Staying home with children, despite the many opportunities to go to parks and on play-dates and to playgrounds, is, essentially, a one-woman job. No chats around the water cooler. No conferences. No meetings. Who knew I would one day crave committee meetings?

Some days, I eat every meal alone with the children. Just the three of us. One with table manners, two who throw food. Makes me want to live in a commune.

Seriously, I am a community-oriented person. Last year we put in an offer on a house in a co-housing community (which sadly we didn't get). I think introverts are much better at stay-at-home mothering. Meanwhile, it makes me, on some days, long to be in a polygamous marriage so at least I'd have the company of the other wives during the day--and someone to chat with while I wash the dining room table for the seventh time. Not a bad trade off, I'd say. (I should forward this post to my husband. I think he might dig it.)

Who Knew It Could Be So Hard?

2010-05-03T09:38:00.002-04:00

Just finished reading a fantastic memoir: Waiting for Daisy.

Peggy Orenstein manages to be heartbreaking and hilarious as she retells her SIX year saga to have a child. Despite the fact that my reality of child-conceiving has been completely different, I adored this book.

In the first place, it's a fascinating treatise on the idea of motherhood itself--choosing it, not choosing it, fear of it, delaying it, aching for it. In the second place, I had NO idea the real ins and outs of fertility medication/procedure, and it really blew my mind. (The urine of virgin nuns comes to mind as one surprising piece of the "get pregnant" recipe.)

If you have any mother friends who are struggling trying, or have in the past, give them this book. It's hard for me to imagine that anyone could have a harder time than Orenstein (though I'm sure it happens), and she has such a good perspective on her own craziness.

Maybe that's why I liked it. I like people who can make fun of their own neuroses. (Although lying in bed waiting for a thunderstorm this morning and NOT sleeping for worry was not very funny. But it is true that ever since I got electrocuted by the washing machine during a lightening storm, I've developed a touch of a phobia.)

Getting back to the topic, though, some of the questions Orenstein raises I really like:
Are women waiting too long to have babies?
Will a career ever fulfill a woman in the way a child can?
How far would YOU go to have a child? (A good, imaginative exercise for those of us who occasionally want to give our children to those virgin nuns who pee into cups.)
Did the feminists ruin us with too high expectations?
If you never had children, would that be okay with you?

New Mother? You Will Survive

2010-04-28T11:38:00.002-04:00

A dear friend of mine recently had a her first child and sent me a tiny email about her labor and the first weeks post partum that brought me back to those glorious days of sore nipples, monster maxi-pads, and no-sleep induced crying jags. Since I love to give unsolicited advice, I gave some to her, and now I'm going to give some to you.

Actually, the truth is, whenever I see or hear from a first time mama, I want to wrap her up in my arms and hug her (after I clean her house, do all her laundry and settle her in for a nap, of course). But since I can't do that, here's a small slice of my new mother survival guide.

YOU MAY BE CRAZY, BUT YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE
New mothers often suffer in isolation, thinking that they are the only ones who have a hard time with...(pick two, three or more) nursing/sleeping/emotions/marital relations/ healing/ bonding with the baby/ going to the bathroom/ adjusting to not being yourself any longer (I could go on for a long time). When IN TRUTH, most, if not all mothers, have had some if not all of these troubles. Some mothers will talk about it. Find some moms who aren't afraid to say how hard it is. There is great comfort in knowing THERE ISN'T ANYTHING WRONG WITH YOU IF IT'S HARD. It's supposed to be hard. Especially if you, like many moms, have spent a decade or more being an adult without children. You are not alone.

WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT, IT'S ALL PRETTY FUNNY
Vagina displaced? Breasts the size of small boulders (and just as hard)? Small, vulnerable, crying being placed in your care that won't let you sit down/ go to the bathroom/ talk to your husband, friend/ read a book/ eat a meal/ think a thought? If you love to read, you will find humor at the ready for the post partum period. I consider Operating Instructions a must read. Of course, This Little Mommy Stayed Home is sure to get you peeing in your pants (for a good reason). My short reading list includes:
Katherine Center, THE BRIGHT SIDE OF DISASTER
Trisha Ashworth and Amy Nobile, I WAS A REALLY GOOD MOM BEFORE I HAD KIDS
Doesn’t the title say it all?
Naomi Stadlen’s, WHAT MOTHER’S DO: ESPECIALLY WHEN IT LOOKS LIKE NOTHINGRadical stuff, this book. Awesome, especially for a new mother with a small baby.

Nursing and reading is a lot easier than bottle feeding and reading, but if you love to read, sneak it in. Even one page and one laugh can be life saving.

BUT MY LETTER TO DEAR ABBY SAYS IT BEST
I don’t make a habit of reading Dear Abby, but my husband reads the comics that get printed on the same page. I read an awful response she wrote to a new mother who thought she needed some post-partum meds because she was bored to tears playing with her infant son. I sent Dear Abby a long and not so dear letter that I reprint here, in case you too have experienced some boredom playing with your precious angels. (Who you love beyond reason, of course. But we KNOW that!)Needless to say, Dear Abby didn't publish it.

Dear Abby,
I am writing in response to the letter of 11/4/08 from the New Mom in Las Vegas. Whether or not you are able to publish my letter—in full or in part—I would appreciate it if you could pass it on to this new mother.

Though it may be possible that she has post-partum depression (although it didn’t sound like it from her letter), MOST stay-at-home-mothers (SaHM) are bored, at least sometimes, especially if they’ve left interesting, busy or creative careers to spend time with infants who don’t walk or talk!

Telling this mother that she has a condition that might need medication (as post-partum depression often does) perpetuates a dangerous myth about the stay at home mother. Staying at home with a young child is hard work, tedious, repetitive and often quite lonely. Our mothers may not have had the same experience; they may not have been raised to expect as much as we do in terms of personal satisfaction. Babies, meanwhile, don’t interact as adults do. They are demanding and not always interesting. I have friends, in fact, who love their daughter immensely and always have, who said “we didn’t even enjoy being with her until she was one!” This woman should know that by the time her son is walking and talking, her feelings may change.

Not only that, our ideas of child raising are so different from reality. Life with two children, 6 and 8, may have been what she imagined—school, games, fun times. Even life with a toddler can be more engaging—playground, play dates, singing funny songs together. Most women find that they enjoy certain ages more than others. That’s normal! Being bored is normal!

Here are some things that can be done to make the first year or so of life more fun for everyone.
*Find a family center where parents go during the day. These places are usually packed with toys and other mothers and fathers to commiserate with and enjoy.
*Join a local library story hour. This is a great way to meet other mothers.
*Join another class for babies—swimming, yoga, music. Check out the YMCA or town recreation center. This will be another place to make friends.
*Have play dates with other moms—once you’ve found them—at least weekly! If you can’t find one, start one.
*Read up on baby development. Some books have great ideas for playing that can make it more fun for mom, and an active mind, like this mother obviously has, might enjoy the playing more knowing about what’s actually happening in the baby’s mind
*Hire a babysitter—maybe a young neighbor so it isn’t too expensive—and take an hour every day or so to read, walk, have ADULT time. Many mothers find if they spend some time away doing what they love and what feeds them, they appreciate the time with the baby much more.
*Know that it will pass, soon enough. She might find she enjoys being the mother of an active toddler or even of several children more than the mother of one young baby.

READ about how it is for other mothers so she doesn’t feel so isolated in her feelings. There are some great reads about being a new mother—funny, HONEST, and live-saving.

Most importantly, this mother is doing a wonderful job! She is an excellent mother. Not only is she doing hard, often dull work, in an isolated setting (no chatting at the water cooler for her), she is doing it despite the fact that it, as she wrote “bores me out of my mind.” It’s a myth that all mothers enjoy every stage of babyhood and have a great time. And it is long past time to shatter the myth. We can LOVE our babies and not love being with them—all the time, or some of the time. Some of us love it more of the time, some less, some find it harder than they thought, some easier.

This mother, and all who feel the same, ought to know that they are good mothers. Motherhood is much harder work than ever gets spoken about.

Yours truly,
Samantha Wilde
A mother of two

P.S. Did you have children, Abby? I am dismayed by your response. Motherhood is hard enough without having someone tell you that if you don’t find it fabulously fun you need Prozac!

Following Ellen Meister

2010-04-26T11:16:00.002-04:00

One of the gals in the GCC network I am a part of (Girlfriend's Cyber Circuit Network for the uninitiated) is the very funny and very talented Ellen Meister, who in addition to being the author of The Smart One and the fantastic Secret Confessions of the Applewood PTA which I raced through, gave me a awesome quote for This Little Mommy. Her next novel is due in 2011. She's doing a cool promotion through her website about her newsletter and I wanted to share it here with you. (Cause I'm a sharing kind of gal.)

Ellen Meister has an exciting new book coming out next year and she wants to keep you abreast of the news. So she has a special offer ... sign up for her mailing list now and you will automatically be entered in a drawing for a $25 amazon.com gift card.
Just click here, fill out the form, and remember to click through when you get the confirmation email. That's it. Ellen only sends out a few updates a year, so you won't be bombarded. Besides, I think you'll want to hear about her breakthrough novel, THE OTHER LIFE (Putnam/2011), which is already getting great early buzz.

That's it for my public service announcement for the hungry readers of the world.
More later from the land of motherhood, where reading is for me as good as weekend retreat. (I am not even kidding. Okay...almost as good.)

Come see me!

2010-04-23T16:38:00.002-04:00

If you are in Eastern Massachusetts or anywhere near by, or know people who are, please come on May 8th to the Danvers Literary Festival. My mother and I will be speaking at 4 p.m. about our books, our writing, and what it means to be a published mother and daughter. I promise to be utterly serious, not crack a joke, and act like a Pulitzer Prize winning novelist who spends her days drinking martinins and smoking heavily--alone in a room with a notepad.

Anyway.

Find out all about the Danvers Literary Festival.

Find out more about my famous mother who is about to publish her 20th novel, Nancy Thayer!

Please post around on Facebook and the like and share the word. It would be awesome to meet some of you who've read This Little Mommy! Even if you're far away, your cyber-friends are probably all over. Leave a comment if you tweet or facebook or put up a link on your blog so I can send you a free coffee maker. (Just kidding. This blog is totally un-commercial. I never try to sell anything except my novel, and I don't do a very good job at that, now do I? DO I?)

The Laundry

2010-04-20T10:52:00.002-04:00

I did manage to get out of bed this morning and begin my laundry, propelled primarily by the fact that I no longer have any underwear of any kind to wear, including the variety I save for period days, fat phases, and times when I haven't been able to do my laundry. Which means that yesterday I wore the pair that falls down around my ankles.

I noticed as I was putting things into the washing machine, that other than underwear, I seemed only to be washing pajamas. Oh. Well, being so sick these past days, I have been wearing my pajamas. I've carried around a box of tissues, a cup of tea, now my antibiotics and my thermometer. The worst part of this sickness has been a violent cough that gives a nasty headache.

So why so many pajamas? I must have stuffed six pair in there. Unfortunately, this volcanic-erupting cough also made me pee. And this despite marathon like kegeling done for months on a regular basis!

Perhaps this is also why I have no more underwear. Go ahead. You can call me the leaky lady. Really, I wouldn't mind. I'll wear it as a badge of honor. So much childbirth...so much loss of bladder control. If we lived in a tribal environment, I'd probably get a special dance for this amazing rite of passage. (Sniff. Sob.) I am a real woman now.

April Henry's Latest

2010-04-16T10:30:00.003-04:00

On a completely different note from feminism and motherhood (and books are such good escapes for mothers), April Henry's latest has just been released. Just after she toured with the GCC last year, she hit the NYTimes best seller list.
Here's the scoop on the newest in her Triple Threat Series, Hand of Fate.

When the host of a popular radio talk show is murdered, the only thing larger than his listening audience is the lengthy list of suspects glad he's dead. Outspoken radio talk show host Jim Fate dies when poisonous gas fills the studio during his polarizing show, "The Hand of Fate." In the ensuing panic, police evacuate downtown Portland.
FBI Special Agent Nicole Hedges, TV crime reporter Cassidy Shaw and Federal Prosecutor Allison Pierce begin piecing together what happened. And this time it's personal, since one of the women was secretly dating the host.
In the days following Fate's murder, these three colleagues and friends uncover the not-so-public life of Jim Fate. Together, they race of find out the stunning truth of who killed him, how close the killer really is, and the twisted motives behind the cold-blooded murder.

April's touring around now and I'm so glad to have her here to tell us what it's like to be famous! ;-)

If Oprah invited you on her show to talk about your book, what would the theme of that show be?
Unintended consequences.

What was the most fun scene in your book to write? The most difficult?
The most fun was the crazy mayhem when downtown Portland was evacuated. The most difficult was what happened with Allison’s pregnancy.

Do you have a muse, good luck charm, writing vice?
My vices are all not writing related. They usually involve food.

Have you had a "rock star" moment regarding your writing career? If so, what was it?
I was loading towels in the dryer when I got a call from our publisher. A bunch of folks were on a speaker phone yelling, “You’re on the New York Times bestseller list!” I jumped up and down and squealed and felt unreal - and then I kept putting towels in the dryer.

What do you do to celebrate your writing successes?
I am very bad about celebrating.

What is one thing you’ve learned about the publishing industry since getting your first book deal?
“Tireless self promoter” sounds ugly to everyone but your publisher.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
Run, go to kung fu class (the most fun ever! it is great to hit the bag really, really hard), read, try out new cookbooks.

Describe how you got your first book deal.
It was actually the fourth book I wrote. The first book got rejection letters from agents, the second got me my agent and some nice rejection letters from editors, the third got me curt rejection letters, and the fourth sold in three days. So it was my five-year overnight success.

What do you think readers might be surprised to know about you?
Roald Dahl helped me get a short story published when I was in grade school. It was about a six-foot tall frog named Herman who liked peanut butter. Alas, I have lost the story, but not Dahl’s postcard to me.

Can you share some particularly memorable fan mail you received about this or previous books?
With our last book, one eighty-something guy told us he had to live for another year so he could read our next book. Since we are contracted for seven total, we might keep him alive a long time.

Do you pay attention to book reviews? If so, has there been any particular review that made your heart do a little dance?
Reviews are just starting to come in - but I do like Publishers Weekly calling it “Excellent.”

I wish you many more rock star/laundry moments, April! (Makes me think of the Jack Kornfield book, After the Ecstasy, the Laundry--it's just the truth of life!)

Mama, Are You Feeling Mediocre?

2010-04-15T11:01:00.002-04:00

It did occur to me the other day that the cause of much of my angst (can I have angst being over twenty-one? Can I have angst if I neither drink nor smoke? I mean, I do wear black), has to do with a prevailing since of my own mediocrity. But here's how it happened.

I was visiting some blogs in an attempt to figure out what blogs would be best to review my novel (and the next one upcoming) when I happened upon the Most Famous Mommy Blog of All Time. The chick who writes this thing? Her husband QUIT his job because they make so much money from the advertising on her blog and she gets one zillion visitors every micro-second (or something like that). I'm savvy. I think to myself. I'll advertise on this thing. Then those one zillion people will buy my book. Only once I see the cost (think about $1000 an hour), I realized no way/no how.

Then a tiny bout of envy set in. Why don't I have all those visitors to my blog? Why can't my husband quit his job finding a cure for cancer and run my media campaign? Why didn't my book sell more/become a movie/make me a million?

Yes, the big, green monster of envy reared it's ugly head. And I don't even want to be a blogger! Certainly not a professional one. I'm not even much of an amateur blogger and I don't even know if I LIKE blogging, so why in the world do I envy the blogging Diva?

Well, because, not unlike many stay-at-home mothers (as well as working mothers and all the rest of the female race and possibly the entire male race too), I struggle with feelings of my own mediocrity. The trouble with feeling mediocre is that it never seems you are doing enough. If I play with my children all day, tickle them and go to the park, I feel I ought to have done the laundry and cleaned the house and made a better dinner. If I spend the morning working on the novel, I ought to have been playing with the children.

I love the feminists. I am a feminist. But one of the distinct downsides of the second wave of feminism (1970s), that pushed women into the work force by giving them choices, is that now it's nearly impossible to feel as though you've ever made the right one. Not only that, most mothers, whose time and attentions are divided, feel that they are doing many things, and not one of them to excellence.

Most of you who read this know that among my many assorted eccentricities, I love the Duggar family (and others like them). What I can see in communities that support, uplift, encourage, and call women into motherhood, is a greater sense of satisfaction for the mothers. I don't even know what it would look like--in isolation--to excel at mothering. Because the truth is--in isolation--we don't have a sense of ourselves. Communal identity is essential. If we live in a community that thinks more of working mothers than stay-at-home, the sense of meaning in taking care of children full-time falls apart. This is not theory; I can speak from personal experience. (And, of course, the opposite is true).

Not that I have a solution to this problem. Or I do, but it comes in the long run, in revising (again) our sense of the worthiness of mothering, it's value and place in the world--not simply in the family. And, of course, it can't be lip-service, but action that makes all the difference.

So for now, if you are a mother, working at home or working somewhere else, perhaps you will honor yourself for the outstanding job you do. My high school advisor famously said: "Maybe we should all be mediocre and live happily ever after." I think she meant, lower your expectations. Find the contentment and savor it; it's yours. Am I doing a good enough job? I don't know. I'll tell you one thing, though, when I am joyful, I don't care. I don't want to be some famous blogger. I just want to be me. Oh, yes, we are on our way to an affirmation here. Say it with me: I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and dog gone it, I'm an awesome mom! (Did you say it? Or did you just laugh at me? Go ahead, say it. I bet it will make you smile. If it doesn't, you can have your money back. Woops. This blog is free. Never mind.)

Motherhood is so hard...

2010-04-12T10:06:00.002-04:00

But it's the little things that make it all worthwhile.

"This is my brown baby," says the baby about her doll with the brown cloth body while I'm changing her poopy diaper.

"This is my brown baby. This baby is brown," goes her chatter.

"This baby is brown. Just like my poop!"

Oh, such sweet moments for the memory book!

And this baby is TWO today.

Spread the Word

2010-04-08T15:29:00.003-04:00

A wonderful review just appeared for THIS LITTLE MOMMY STAYED HOME!

Novel Escapes has given the book 4.5 (out of 5) stars, and does a great job of wrapping up what's good about it. (And The Time Traveler's Wife which everyone--even my husband read--and that's been made into a movie, only got 3.5! Eat your heart out, Audrey Niffinger!)

"I loved this novel and laughed out loud from the first page right through to the end, and I haven’t even had a baby," writes one of the reviewers. And the other chimes in, "I absolutely loved the concept of this book! I just had my first child last winter so could relate to everything she was writing about first hand- however I don’t think that this book is only entertaining for a current mummy- it’s full of useful insights into marriage and finding oneself too so don’t be put off if you’re not right in the midst of the baby thing at the moment."

I'm still convinced that my novel hasn't made it in to the hands of all the mommies (and non-mommies) who would feel the same way as these two women.

And, since I don't socially network with anyone but my children these days, if you're reading this and you're also on Facebook or Tweeter or Goodreads, would you be willing to post a link to the review and mention the book? I think it's possible that most of us think books sell themselves, but there's a lot of work, especially with a debut novel, to get the word out, and I would be every so grateful! If you do, send me a comment about it. Maybe I'll even give out a free book to someone who helps spread the word!

Gone Crazy

2010-04-05T10:02:00.004-04:00

I don't suppose anyone is particularly happy to say that they're crazy, although, as far as I can tell, the few unfortunate people who aren't crazy tend to run on the boring side. That said, of the many crazy mothers I know, who in the post partum whirl of life changes and hormonal side-effects have gone a little kooky, few of us wouldn't happily shed the madness for a boring afternoon or two.

After my daughter was born, I was able to come up with some truly crazy post partum anxiety induced forms of craziness that included a mortal terror of Tsunami (while vacationing on Nantucket), the conviction that a plane would fall on my head (as we live along the army base's flight path), griping fear that I would die of the Swine flu (never did worry about my children), and certainty that my ongoing heartburn could be none other than a heart attack (only about 400 times or every time I experienced it).

What is happy is that I am not alone. Mothers everywhere are telling me how crazy they are. Just what does happen when you pop out a kid? Luckily, I was saved from the post partum depression that is all the rage these days, but the anxiety is not a lesser problem, it's just much more funny.

What I most appreciate, since I have been teaching yoga for about a decade and practicing much longer, is when my doctors suggest I do some yoga.

As one of my dearest, wisest yoga teachers said to me once: "I teach all the time because I need this stuff more than anyone else."

At any rate, I would love to bond with all crazy mothers everywhere. Surely there is strength in numbers. In the meantime, please feel free to reassure me that I will not have an airplane land on my house.

Another Good Read

2010-03-31T11:12:00.006-04:00

Sheila Curran's

EVERYONE SHE LOVED is just out in paperback, so if you've been waiting, now is the time.

Sheila has more to celebrate than her latest release. Read all about it on her blog and be totally inspired.

Here's a peak at the origins of the book.

Books are born in strange places. Sheila Curran’s latest was conceived in the front seat of a car while her friend drove and their daughters chatted in the backseat. The women were discussing an article Curran had written about two young girls whose parents had died within months of each other.
While talking about the tragedy, Curran realized that choosing the perfect guardian for her kids—one that would raise them as she would--would be next to impossible. Even tougher to swallow would be the possibility that if she died first, her husband might marry someone awful, and then she’d have no control at all. Unless, she mused, she could get him to agree that if he remarried, her sisters and friends would have to agree to his choice of bride, just to prevent some wicked stepmother from moving in.

You can get a sneak preview of the book here in the first chapter. I guarantee if you read it, you'll want to finish it!

I don't know a mother who hasn't thought about these things. Can keep you up at night, actually, if you lean toward the neurotic as I do....

The author of Diana Lively Is Falling Down, Sheila Curran lives in Tallahassee, Florida, with her husband and children.

After you read the book, tell me what you think!

Let Them Potty-Train Themselves

2010-03-29T10:33:00.003-04:00

While slaving over a hot stove the other day, my toddler called to me from the bathroom that she needed to go potty.

"Really?" I called back. "What do you need to do?" And kept on cooking. Generally speaking, if someone tells me they need to go potty, it probably has more to do with looking at the potty than needing to pee in it or possibly competitiveness (if say, her older brother has just peed), or jealousy (if I have just peed), and precious little to do with the bladder.

When I finished up my kitchen tasks, I headed to the bathroom. I found, in this order: my daughter standing on the stool, washing her hands. Pee, in the little potty. A diaper, lying on the floor. Then I went back to my daughter and pulled her pants down. No diaper there.

Like a good detective I put all the pieces together. My not even two-year old child went into the bathroom, took off her own button-down jacket and button overalls, removed her diaper, sat on the potty, PEED in it, pulled her pants back up and preceded to wash her hands.

Well, clearly, I'm not needed any longer except for cooking. I have successfully raised my children. Which leaves me quite a bit of time to finish raising myself. A good thing as I seem to need it.

(On the flip-side, I may be needed for the other variety of diaper change. As my daughter pointed out to me while I was cleaning up her messy backside.

"No work, Mama," she said, when I told her the following morning the babysitter would be there for a few hours while I worked.

"Mama can't work? What should I do then?"

"Change my diaper," she said, with a smile on her face.)

Winging It

2010-03-24T14:15:00.005-04:00

Here's Jenny Gardiner, author of Winging It, and fantastically subtitled A Memoir of a Vengeful Parrot Who's Determined to Kill Me.

Now do I need to say anything else? The book
screams buy me now. I'm always on the look out for humor and this is it.

But since Jenny's touring around, we'll let her say a few other things.

Have you had a “rock star” moment regarding your writing career?

Well, maybe a peripheral one. I had the wonderful fortune of having Winging It be selected as a Pulpwood Queen’s book club book for this year, and that meant attending their awesomely fabulous Girlfriends Weekend in January in Jefferson, TX. The keynote speaker was an author whose writing I revere, and I thought at best I’d get a glimpse of him. But instead I got to join the other 30-odd writers who spent the weekend in the company of Pat Conroy, who is one of the most talented authors alive today, in my opinion. He was charming, gracious and thoughtful, he regaled us and the Pulpwood Queens with fascinating tales of his life as a writer and just funny personal anecdotes, and he even made a point of purchasing and having signed books from each author there. How cool was that?

If Oprah invited you on her show to talk about your book, what would the theme of that show be?

Um, how about What Took You So Long??? Actually I think I’d be so overwhelmed with undying gratitude I’d have to bring along a carload of food treats because I know Oprah would appreciate some homemade banana cream pie, maybe some amazing pound cake, I make a kick-ass pumpkin bread, too. The theme would be about plying people with food to please them…

What was the most fun scene in your book to write? The most difficult?

I enjoyed writing the scenes about crazy things Graycie has done–and she’s done plenty. Like when she’d snuck off the cage and I was trying to get her back onto it and using a broom to sort of “direct” her and she kept biting the broom and my ankles while repeating (in my voice) “Hello, Gray chicken!” (a little term of endearment I have for her).

The most difficult had to do with things that happened along the way. In my mind this was a story about Graycie but her life and ours are inexplicably tied together, so it became a memoir of my family as well. And it’s tricky writing about family without invading their privacy, so that was hard for me to strike a balance. And hard to revisit some of the tough things we’ve dealt with over the years.

Do you have a muse, good luck charm, writing vice?

Peanut M&Ms used to be my writing vice, but then I gave them up last year for Lent. Somewhere along the line, Mint M&Ms became my writing vice this year, but I gave them up for Lent. Today, it seems that Thin Mints are my writing vice. Are you beginning to see a pattern here? (I should definitely write at coffee shops, rather than at my desk right in the kitchen!)

(A woman after my own heart!)

You can see a great video of Graycie and enjoy her gift as a mimic!

Jenny Gardiner is also the author of the award – winning novel Sleeping with Ward Cleaver. Her work has appeared in Ladies Home Journal, and the Washington Post. She writes a column of humorous essays for Charlottesville, Virginia’s newspaper, the Daily Progress. She lives in central Virginia with her family.

I love things that make me laugh. Can't wait to read!

Weaned!

2010-03-17T14:18:00.002-04:00

My "baby" has weaned, and practically effortlessly. She will be two next month, and while I am a champion for breastfeeding, especially the health benefits of a year +, I have to say, I was ready to be done. And, apparently, so was she. I had a conversation about it with her one morning, and that was it! So, there are upsides to nursing until your child can understand language very well.

Today, as I rocked her and sang to her before nap time, she moved my shirt out of the way so she could place her head on the skin just below my neck. This is exactly what my son did when I weaned him. He would seek out the one little square of exposed flesh and place his head there. Skin to skin is clearly a comfort. I found it infinitely touching, as well, her little endeavor to be as close to me as possible.

She's a big girl now.

(We told her that stopping nursing meant all kinds of exciting things like: now she can ride on the merry go round and eat peanut butter. Totally unrelated? Not in a child's mind.)

Hey Fans!

2010-03-13T12:41:00.002-05:00

Don't forget to tune in to my blogtalk radio interview tomorrow night with the amazing feminist breeder, a.k.a. Gina (who was just featured on a Discovery Health program).

We'll be chatting books and chicks and literature and MOTHERHOOD!

If you miss the live show, you can always download. Just link to set a reminder!

Can't wait to hear what you think.

In the meantime, for all you social networkers, if you can tweet about the show or post the information to facebook, I will be forever in your debt! (God knows I won't ever get on Twitter of Facebook.)

Everyone Else's Girl

2010-03-11T14:11:00.005-05:00

It's hard not to love this title and gorgeous cover.

Or the woman behind it, who like me, is a gemini, and (unlike me) uses her many talents to write for both adults and young adults.

USA Today bestselling author Megan Crane has written five women’s fiction novels, many work-for-hire young adult novels, and five category romances (under the name Caitlin Crews) since publishing her first book in 2004. Her novel, Frenemies, was a BookSense Notable in July 2007. She teaches various creative writing classes both online at mediabistro.com and offline at UCLA Extension’s prestigious Writers’ Program, where she finally utilizes her MA and PhD in English Literature. Megan lives in Los Angeles with her comic book artist/animator husband and too many pets. For more info visit her websites.

I've got the book on my next read list. Here's the scoop:

Meredith does things for other people. She irons clothes for her boyfriend, she attends her ex-best friend’s horrendous hen party for her brother (who’s about to marry the girl) and she moves back to her parents’ house to look after her dad when his leg is broken. She’s a good girl and that matters. But when she gets back home, all is not as Meredith remembered. Especially Scott, that geeky teenager from her old class at school. He’s definitely different now. And so, it seems, is she. One by one, her family and old friends start to tell her some home truths and Meredith begins to realise she’s not so perfect after all. Maybe it is time she stopped being everyone else’s girl and started living for herself…

And here's Megan herself. Prettier than her book cover even.

Tell us Megan, if Oprah invited you on her show to talk about your book, what would the theme of that show be?

The unrealistic expectations women place upon themselves because they think others will only love them if they are the perfect friend, wife, mother, daughter.

Do you have a muse, good luck charm, writing vice?

I am pretty sure my extremely fat and ill-behaved cats feel that they are both muses and charms; they are not. I don’t really have either, I don’t think. Though I have written every single one of my books on this very same desk, and I’m kind of attached to it, if that counts.

Have you had a “rock star” moment regarding your writing career?

If so, what was it?I’m not sure what a “rock star” moment means, but it was pretty cool to hit the USA Today Bestseller list. That still feels great!

(I say that's a definite rock star moment.)

What's your favorite thing about being a writer?

I get to make up stories in my head, and then tell them, and make my living that way. It’s more than a dream come true. And I don’t, in fact, need algebra, as I told my math teacher in high school long ago!

And what's your least favorite thing?

The blank page is usually filled with all my doubts and fears, and that’s not a whole lot of fun to sift through to get to the words I need to write. And you can never really take a vacation, because the work is always in your head. And I become a little bit of a crazy person as a deadline approaches. But I wouldn’t give any of it up.

Here's some of the praise for her Everyone Else's Girl just released in the UK.

“Megan Crane rules! Cancel your evening plans: You won’t want to stop reading until you’ve devoured every delicious word.”—Meg Cabot

“Amusing, heartfelt and emotionally sophisticated chick-lit.” —Kirkus

“Crane prevails with refreshingly real human emotions and reactions. In this book, actions have consequences, and no one gets off easy, despite appearances.” —RT BookClub

I know the Brits will love this book, and the rest of us can pick up the US version.

Thanks, Megan!

Working Hard?

2010-03-05T18:11:00.004-05:00

It's amazing how writing a novel can get in the way of more important activities, like blogging.

I am hurrying towards the goal of finishing the revisions on book #2 with some combination of exhaustion and lust. Lusting for it to be over, that is. Lusting to see the thing done. There is some point, in the process of novel writing, when you begin to worry that the book will forever be incomplete. I start dreaming about the last sentence. I see it in my mind's eye. I charge towards it with utter hunger.

The end is very satisfying. Quite unlike the end of reading a novel. I always feel a touch lonely when I finish a good book. I just re-read LADDER OF YEARS by Anne Tyler. I read it so many years ago that I couldn't remember the end. I read it quickly, taking it up whenever I had it a minute. It was even better the second time. I've also recently finished off SHOPOHOLIC AND BABY, which is like a box of chocolates. I decided to bring out some of my old, favorite feminist literature the other day as well, looking into SEX AND DESTINY by Germaine Greer. I adore that woman. The book's outdated now, but fascinating, and reading it reminded me that once upon a time I did things like study and write academically. Blogging couldn't be further from that. In the first place, I'm never required to write complete sentences. Cool.

In between all that reading, I really am trying to finish a book. But it's amazing how many things can get in the way of novel writing.

Hear Me, Hear Me!

2010-02-25T10:15:00.002-05:00

Talking is definitely one of my favorite things to do. I prefer it over sitting and typing at a computer, that's for sure.

In a few weeks I'll have the chance to talk to one of my favorite blogging Mamas, the Feminist Breeder (a.k.a. Gina) during her blogtalkradio show. How cool is this!

Please mark your calenders. You will simply not want to miss this show.

You can link directly to the show to set a reminder to yourself to listen in on March 14th (10 p.m. cst., so you'll need to adjust for the part of the country you live in.) You can also get the show from itunes.

She's calling the program, Chick Lit: Too Legit to Quit? With that kind of a title, how can you NOT listen!

You can find out more about Gina and blogtalkradio. It should be interesting and FUNNY, and who doesn't need funny. (I need funny. I need a lot of funny.)

Hank Phillipi Ryan's Latest and You Can Win it HERE!

2010-02-22T11:28:00.003-05:00

Hank Phillipi Ryan is out with her latest mystery, DRIVE TIME. If you haven't read her yet, you better set aside some reading time. This is the fourth in her series and the previous book, AIR TIME, was just nominated for the 2009 Agatha Award for Best Novel.

In addition to being an award winning novelist, she is a real investigative journalist with Boston's NBC affiliate. She has won 26 Emmy's for her investigative work. You know, some people couldn't get any cooler if they tried.

"Buckle up and prepare for a wild ride...Ryan once again channels her Emmy-winning investigative reporting expertise to craft a realistic and compelling mystery, full of hairpin turns and dangerous intersections at breakneck speed. Verdict: Placing Ryan in the same league as Lisa Scottoline...her latest book catapults the reader into the fast lane and doesn't relent until the story careens to a stop. New readers will speed to get her earlier books, and diehard fans will hope for another installment." —Library Journal on DRIVE TIME (starred review!)

Best of all Hank is giving away TWO copies of her books. So leave a comment and you'll be in the running. (That's right, you can't just READ this blog. You now have to INTERACT!!)

Tell us about your Drive Time.
DRIVE TIME is about secrets. TV reporter Charlie McNally’s working on a story about a dangerous scheme that could absolutely happen…and let me just say, if you own a car, or rent a car, you’ll never look at your vehicle the same way after reading DRIVE TIME. In fact, after writing the book, I now get a bit creeped out when I go into a parking garage. That’s all I‘ll say.
Charlie’s also drawn into another frightening situation—this one at the prep school where her fiancé is an English professor. When Charlie learns a secret that might put her step-daughter-to-be in danger, and might also be an blockbuster investigative story—how does she balance her loyalty to her husband-to-be—with her need to protect the public?
So this is a tough one for Charlie. And she must make many life-changing decisions. Just when she begins to think she might be able to have it all—a terrific career and a new husband and a new life–revenge, extortion and murder may bring it all to a crashing halt.

You’ve got four books under your belt, you’ve won an Agatha, and been compared to Lisa Scottoline. Will there come a time when you say goodbye to journalism to focus full time on your fiction?
Ain’t that the question! I still smile in delight every time I see my Agatha teapot. And when the starred review in Library Journal for DRIVE TIME compared me to Lisa Scottoline, well, I burst into tears. But I still love my job in TV. So–you could ask me that question every day, and every day I’d have a different answer. And I guess the bottom line is: who knows?

Your husband’s a criminal defense attorney. Does he read your work or give you any tips or even ideas for plots?
He’s the most patient man on the planet. Yes, he’s really the only person who reads my pages while they’re in process. When I first started writing PRIME TIME, I’d give hi my five pages or so a day, and I’d hear him laughing and I was so delighted! And he would tell me every day how terrific it was. Then, about fifty pages in, I went in for my daily pat on the back. And he had a funny look on his face. “Honey?” he asked. “Is something going to happen soon?” So I knew I had some work to do.
Ideas for plots? Ah, no, not really. I’m always running ideas by him, to see if he thinks they’re plausible and believable. And sometimes he’ll come up with just the perfect little thing I need to pull something together. But we think very differently. He’s much more–wedded to reality.

What’s next for you?
Exactly what I’m trying to figure out. DRIVE TIME came out February 1, with fantastic blurbs from the much-missed and iconic Robert B. Parker and Suzanne Brockmann and Margaret Maron and Carla Neggers and a rave starred review from Library Journal. So I’m hoping people love it. (And I’ll be visiting lots of places across the US–hope some of our readers come visit!) And then…we’ll see. I can’t tell you how excited I am.

Thanks for visiting us here on your cyber tour, Hank. And congratulations on your latest Agatha nomination!

One, Two, Three

2010-02-17T09:07:00.003-05:00

Apologies for the lazy blogging of late. I am hurriedly trying to finish up revisions of book #2 for an end of February deadline, an enormous endeavor that requires new writing and lots of cutting and pasting of things from page 300 onto page 50. In the midst of this, I find I don't have anything to say that would interest anybody. My mother has a great phrase: "Put it in your work." Well, I have.

But I will say that my husband and I are talking about baby number three, which puts me in this odd place among my friends--most of whom are parents of one and intend to stay that way. I realized about half of my friends are single-child families. However, one of my favorite cyber friends is also working on number three and, unlike boring me, is writing all about it. The feministbreeder also has many other wonderful, entertaining, and interesting things to say, but if you know someone who is wondering about family size, it might be worth taking a look at what she's writing.

As for me, we'll see. I used to want six children. I guess I should write: I used to want six children until I had two.

The Big Top

2010-02-11T12:30:00.002-05:00

Well, I've finally made it to the big time. If the German publication of my novel were not proof enough, it seems I have made it to ebay.

That's right, you can buy the book on ebay. And to think all this time I'd imagined it's when I saw my novel in the "bargain price" pile at the Barnes & Noble that I'd have officially made it. How wrong I was.

I Am Awesome

2010-02-08T08:58:00.002-05:00

Some really good news: THIS LITTLE MOMMY STAYED HOME has just been bought in Germany! This means in about a year's time, you'll be able to buy my book in Germany and read it in German (provided you can read German).

Some good news: Samantha Wilde is also a female wrestler. If you have been confused about my identity, I can assure you, I do not wrestle. (I'd link to a video, but I think this kind of wrestling is naughty.)

And on the lighter side: Since the birth of my daughter, I have been not-so-happily enduring a bout of post partum anxiety, compounded by the unfortunate genetic predisposition towards anxiety that all of my family members have managed to enjoy. Such lucky people! On occasion, my anxiety can be very funny.

Take the other day. I'd been having some trouble sleeping because my pulse was beating in my head, arms, neck, etc., quite loudly. I decided to see if it was blood pressure related and went to the local CVS to use their blood pressure machine. I got a reading of 133/122.

After running my morning errands I called the doctor, knowing that /122 is awfully high. (My usual reading is 100/70). The nurse I talked to agreed it was high but said she had to talk to the doctor first to see if I ought to come in. She said she'd call back. (And she did. Five hours later. When she urged me to get myself to the ER.)
In the meantime, I decided to do a little internet research. I searched for diastolic blood pressure and quickly learned that a high diastolic pressure is a strong sign of heart attack and stroke in young adults.

Well, I immediately realized my death was imminent. (Only later did it occur to me that I am NOT any longer (this being another terrible shock) a young adult!) I headed over to the rapid care clinic where I was told by the doctor that CVS must have had a faulty machine as no one's blood pressure could read 133/122. Why didn't the nurse I spoke with tell me this! I'd already planned my funeral. I had an accurate reading of 146/76--not great but not terrible.

I was instructed to buy a blood pressure cuff and take my own pressure once a day.

Now, whenever I get near the thing, my blood pressure sky rockets and my pulses races. This is called white coat high blood pressure.

On the upside, it appears that while I am terrifically crazy, I probably do not have high blood pressure.

I would appreciate any similar stories of how motherhood has made you mad.

Romance is Not Dead

2010-02-03T20:41:00.004-05:00

It's been awhile since I've blogged for the GCC. I've been in a bit of a book funk, so I'm relieved that Judi Fennell has a new one out and is taking a blog tour here with me.

My mother has been on a mermaid kick this year, which makes Fennell's new book perfect for her too. Catch of a Lifetime is the latest in her Mer series. Check out the hunk on the cover. Wouldn't you like a total escape? (Actually, if you really want a total escape, take the book on a vacation with you. To celebrate the release of each of her books, Judi Fennell and the Atlantis Inn and the Hibiscus House bed and breakfasts are raffling off three romantic beach getaway weekends. All information is on Judi's website.) Yummy. And just in time for Valentine's Day.

Tell us about your latest release and the inspiration behind it.

Catch of a Lifetime is the third book in my Mer series, this time about middle sister and Human-loving, Angel Tritone. She's determined to convince her brother Rod (hero of Book 2, Wild Blue Under) that she's perfect for the Director position of the Mer-Human Coalition he's establishing to help curb the pollution and global warming issues facing the entire planet. Things don't go quite as planned when she has to outrun a shark and ends up on Logan Hardington's fishing boat and is seen by his six-year-old son, Michael.

Logan Hardington, who ran away from the circus as a teenager, wants Normal in his life. But when a surprise son he never knew about shows up, Normal starts falling by the wayside. Then a beautiful naked woman shows up on his boat and it's all he can do to keep Normal part of his vocabulary. But when she proves to be a mermaid and his son goes missing, Logan realizes that Angel definitely is not the catch of a lifetime.

Or is she?

If you weren't writing, what would you be doing instead?

Probably reading way too much and saying, "I bet I could do that." It's always been a dream of mine. I wrote my first book in 9th grade. Pretty much staying in the proverbial drawer (or steamer trunk), but it did get written. So I'd say this was destined. It just took me a little while to realize it.

What is the most memorable first line you've ever read in a novel?

No clue. I'm not one for remembering first lines. Plus, "It was a dark and stormy night" is the quintessential opener, along with "Call me Ishmael," and I don't think I've actually read either of those. I'll go with the opening of my (as yet unpublished) story: "There's a naked man in my kitchen." Which is not to be confused with the opening of Catch of a Lifetime of "There was a naked woman on his boat."

When deadlines hit, what happens in your house?

Chaos reigns supreme. And so does the laundry. That's my area of expertise in the house. The dishes will (eventually) get taken care of, the pets will definitely get fed, and Hubs will get the vacuum cleaner up and running, but the laundry? It grows legs.

Judi Fennell has had her nose in a book and her head in some celestial realm all her life, including those early years when her mom would exhort her to “get outside!” instead of watching Bewitched or I Dream of Jeannie on television. So she did--right into Dad’s hammock with her Nancy Drew books.

These days she’s more likely to have her nose in her laptop and her head (and the rest of her body) at her favorite bookstore, but she’s still reading, whether it be her latest manuscript or friends’ books.

A three-time finalist in online contests, Judi has enjoyed the reader feedback she’s received and would love to hear what you think about her Mer series.

Thanks for another great read, Judi!

What's the Hurry?

2010-02-01T14:07:00.002-05:00

Every since my son started preschool, mornings (the three that he goes) have become a harried, stressful, flurry of angst. In the first place, we are not early risers. And even if, by unhappy chance, the baby wakes us up early, we'll stay in bed for as long as possible. My son often won't wake up until 8 a.m., which, I think, is perfectly lovely.

But not so lovely when you have to be somewhere at 9 a.m. The sense of pressure (notes from the school to BE ON TIME), and also some internal pressure no doubt, make for an entirely unpeaceful experience. And the kid is just going to the local preschool! This isn't his Harvard interview. He's not late for his own wedding.

I have said to my yoga students: please do NOT hurry to class. Come late if you need to. I'd rather they came late than sped on the way to their relaxation. I'd rather they came late than scurried anxiously with shallow breath to get there on time. I am often amazed by the yoga studios that insist on coming early, that insist on NO distributions (including, horror of horrors, a cell phone ringing during class).

Is this how we want to raise our children? To be so tight-assed and anxious that they'll go into paroxysms of stress in order to get to yoga class early? Honey, I think it ain't worth it.

A dear, beloved friend called today. Her partner of eight years died suddenly of a massive heart attack.

So what's the hurry? What's the hurry with these precious children? In the scheme of things, I'd rather be late and happy, than on time and stressed. Does it matter? Yes, I suppose, a little. It matters a little to be on time. But a lot? Like life or death? Not even close.

As the great writer Evelyn Waugh wrote: "Punctuality is the virtue of the bored."

This is the one life. Perhaps we should not let a little cell phone ring get our relaxed panties in a bundle? Or maybe that's the sign that we aren't so relaxed after all, eh?

Time to buy new panties. The slow down and enjoy variety.

True Confessions

2010-01-28T15:16:00.005-05:00

I've got myself absolutely convinced that if I could only admit all of my darkest most wild secrets on my blog, I'd have a huge blog readership.

But then I'd have to go and make some secrets, something I'm entirely too tired for.

What else makes a good blog? I should probably be selling things, ad space and fancy products for new mothers.

Actually, I am selling something. It's called THIS LITTLE MOMMY STAYED HOME, and even if you don't like the title, you'll love the book. And despite the fact that the book is a funny, quick, mommy lit book, it was a labor of love that I hope will be a gift to new mothers everywhere (the way Anne Lamott's Operating Instructions was for me).

Oh, I did think of something else I could sell. One of my yoga students makes these amazing herbal teas. Moonrise Medicinals is her little tea company, and everything from the teas to the packaging is lovely. You can choose your teas from her website and put in on order through her email, as the orders don't yet go through the website. I'm drinking tea like a junky these days with the cold weather and to stave off colds. She is also another mother with the goddess mother energy shinning all around her. Part of my tribe.

Just think, if you bought everything I'm selling today, you could read a book and drink some tea. How relaxing. You could also pat yourself on the back for helping to stimulate the economy. Now isn't blogging wonderful advertisement?

An Ethical Writer

2010-01-25T15:07:00.002-05:00

I've just finished another book where (it seems to me) the writer kills off a character in order to keep the story line rolling or even as a last ditch attempt to revive a saggy plot. Now, I'm no critic of plots. I stink at them and do much better with character, but it seems a little low-down to me to go and kill someone off just to sell a novel. Especially when that character is the only person in the book who has a child. Why kill the mother?

I'm sure no one will agree with me. I'm not worried about that or interested in agreement. I just want to state for the record that I believe there ought to be an ethics to novel writing. It's one thing to write a history or a biography or a historical novel where you've got to throw in a few gory details for accuracy's sake, it's quite another to invent an entire fiction of tragedy and despair.

Pardon me but isn't the world full of enough sorrow without having to make it up?

As for me, if I want to be discouraged, I'll read the newspaper.

I think of novels in the old fashioned way. As entertainment. And while it may shock some to know this, most of the great American novelist where trying to entertain. They didn't write in archaic, dated English to confound the minds of high schoolers forced to read their novels. They wrote for their contemporaries, telling stories of contemporary life. Call me old fashioned, I find the gratuity unnecessary.

We're a nation of rubber neckers. Should we pride ourselves on this?

Whether we like it or not, what we see and what we read are equal to what we eat. We digest the stuff. It comes into us and for better or worse becomes a part of being (albeit sometimes in a very small way).

I've said to people, and not in complete irony, that if I wanted to write the great American novel I would have had to kill off more of my characters, add some abuse, neglect and rape, and a good dose of injustice. Can we at least hanker after the easier parts of our world as we do the harder? They are just as true, as far as I can see.

So no one is going to go out and make an ethics of novel writing--anymore than the broadcasting stations are going to take the garbage off the television that does no one any good--in any way. (And I'm not saying I don't watch garbage. I do. Just garbage without fictitious death, destruction, cruelty and despair.) But perhaps in this Prozac nation we may take a little more care with our own selves, just as we do with how we treat our bodies. After all, we want to think ourselves into a better world, don't we? Not hang out with the poltergeists of our historic mistakes. Right?

Hide and Seek with Sass

2010-01-22T15:30:00.003-05:00

My daughter's current obsession is hide and seek. She is so devoted to this game that she constantly plays it. If I'm holding her, she'll cover her eyes and press into my chest--pretending to hide, of course--and then demand that I count to ten and find her. The second her little feet hit the floor, she is off to hide somewhere, anywhere, including in plain sight.

In addition to her own hiding antics, she insists that "Mama hide." Sometimes I get sneaky and run off to a real hiding place behind the sofa or under the table, but often, suffering from exhausted mom syndrome (did I mention she is getting all four of her canine teeth and is therefore waking up once or twice a night as well as rising earlier and ditching her nap? Because really, I should mention that), I play Lazy-Mama-Hide and Seek. (You're welcome to borrow it.)

Here's what it consists of: rolling into a ball on the floor and covering your eyes. That's pretty much it. I find it truly relaxing.

Now when I try and find my daughter, I always act as though I can't see her--even though I always do--and when it's finally time to "honestly" find her, I'll say something like, "I see a little foot!" Or "I see a pink jacket!" Or "I see some one's little back." I have, apparently, been an excellent teacher of this game. My daughter found me the other day, curled up about two feet from where she was standing, next to the ottoman on the floor. She walked right over to me and said: "I see a big bum!"

Now, this is her standard line whenever she finds me hiding. Not that my bum is so big...it's just so mcuh bigger than hers. Of course.

Retreat and Renewal

2010-01-18T14:34:00.003-05:00

I was enjoying a look-through my Kripalu catalog the other day.

Weekend getaways for health and sanity...yoga intensives...massages and wholesome food. And, yes, I was looking rather longingly at the photographs of joyful, stress-free, smiley people living the deep spiritual life in communion with...themselves, and oh wouldn't it be nice to just go off, on the spur of the moment, and have a weekend trip.

And then I realized, how silly of me! I have my own little rest and renewal retreats EVERY SINGLE DAY. I get to go to the bathroom. And shut the door. And look at a catalog. For somewhere between 3 and 7 minutes. It's a Mother's Retreat. Icing on the cake is the fact that it's free.

So how can I be complaining or envying the yoga-spandex clad, kale eating, rosy-cheeked, kirtan-chanting, people in those pictures?

Except on the days when my children insist of being in the bathroom with me while I take my little mini-retreat from the world. On those days I can complain.

Mom-allalujah

2010-01-15T14:07:00.003-05:00

While I'm not one to blog true confessions, I have a tendency, in life as well as blogging, to say or write what's true for me. Once, when telling a friend that I felt like sometimes I don't even like my child, my friend said: "Wow. You are sooo honest." Does that mean other mothers feel this way but don't say it? Why hide under that rock? To me that's some dirty laundry that needs an airing out.

We're very human in this house. Sometimes embarrassingly so. I wish that I had a better handle on running a house. Playing with the children I've got down, and washing them and dressing them, and I'm even pretty good at the laundry, but I seldom feel I have shifted into Donna Reed mode and accomplished a great deal with the organization of the house. Not to say that the house is a disaster; I think this is a reflection of my inner state of mind--in other words, the amount of purpose and effort I put into those activities, whereas some things, for example yoga and teaching yoga, feel to me completely effortless.

So I am not ashamed to confess I am a Mama who needs help. I love to read books. Currently on my Mama bookshelf I've got: Everyday Blessings, Positive Discipline, and Your Highly Sensitive Child.

Some Mama web resources I like: the feminist breeder, mommy-is-rock-n-roll, Parenting Unplugged Radio, the new homemaker, to name just a very few.

And mostly I spend as much time as possible talking to my other mother friends without whom I would be a great disaster. It's not simply, "I get by with a little help from my friends," it's "what would life be without help from our friends?"

Now I am going to go play solitaire on the Nintendo instead of cleaning my house.

Accidental Escargot

2010-01-13T20:50:00.003-05:00

One of the things I do, with great effort, is cook. And cook healthy meals for my family. They return the favor by refusing to eat what I've spent a good hour preparing in the kitchen. Or my children do anyway.

I don't come by cooking naturally. My mother never cared for it, so I'm entirely self-taught, and while I've always wanted children and a big family, it never dawned on me just how much cooking would be involved. I've actually become much better at it; what I can't manage is to enjoy it more.

At any rate, I did slave away at another healthy meal with a different source of protein (which I strive for each night, not so easy given the vegetarian limitations and the fact that the children will not eat lentils, the baby won't eat tofu, we're off the "fake" stuff ever since someone told me it's got estrogen and messes with little boys' systems--which may well not be true but once you've got something in your head...it's hard to get out--), including a lovely, green head of broccoli with peas, and a noodle dish.

After one helping, I piled on another plate and sat down to eat, dodging flying noodles, screams for yogurt, and spilled milk, when I noticed a snail, sans shell, on my plate. I suppose this makes it a slug, but it was more snail like with its twin tentacles and white, nub of a nose. For a moment, I prayed it was simply a mushroom from the sauce. But no, it was the real thing. And that was the end of dinner for me. (No, it did not come earlier when the preschooler regurgitated his broccoli into a tidy, green pile on his plate on account of eating too quickly. If I could not endure such events, I would never eat. Or I would never eat with my children. Which, come to think of it, is a really civilized idea.)

As a follow up to this spectacular meal, my son, who recently received a monster truck as a gift, told me, while driving the enormous thing over my torso while we sat in the rocking chair together, "Mama, my truck is soooo big it can even zoom over your nipples."

It's the little things that count, isn't it?

Nature vs....What?

2010-01-08T19:52:00.002-05:00

Well, there goes another piece of useful knowledge gained in my many years of women's studies and through my generally progressive education. Biology is destiny. Or, at least, most of the time.

But it all beings with the current fashion crises in our household. Not my fashion, of course, as I have none, but that of my daughter. No outerwear can be worn that does not display flowers. This means, that despite the 20 degree weather, she will not wear her winter coat and boots. She will kick, scream, flail and be impossible to dress. (This is not a metaphor. It is literally not possible to dress her in this state. The other day, once outside, she kicked her boots off while lying in the snow and having a tantrum.)

My dear daughter. Her first word was Mama. Her second word? Shoe.

She is so unrelenting, this fashionista of femininity.

She is also obsessed with dolls, just as I was as a child. In fact, her obsession is so thick that while playing at the sink tonight with water and measuring cups--no baby dolls anywhere to be seen--she lay open the cleaning cloth on the counter and declared: "My baby sleep here." It was a blanket. For the baby doll.

She'll be a good mother. Always thinking of her children even when they're not around.

Which reminds me. Shouldn't I do something better with my free time than blog about my children?

The Top Ten Thing I Ought to Be Doing When I'm Doing Something Else

2010-01-07T21:31:00.002-05:00

10. Cleaning
9. Exercising
8. Meditating
7. Praying for world peace
6. Spending one-on-one time with my children
5. Writing a novel
4. Writing a novel that will win the Pulitzer
3. Volunteering
2. Laundry
1. Not worrying about what I ought to be doing

And a New Year to All

2010-01-05T15:20:00.003-05:00

Well, it is a new year, and wonderful one at that. It just might be the most peaceful time in history. (Think about THAT.)

Or, at least, it is somewhere. Here at my house, my daughter has morphed into a koala and she is absolutely certain I am a branch. I haven't been able to peel her off of me for days, this on account of a terrible cold. When I put her down, she loses it completely in a fit of heart-wrenching sobs. This would be fine if I had stronger arm muscles. Luckily, she's changing all that.

I, like many in the civilized universe, made a New Year's resolution. Which I promptly forgot. I think it had something to do with writing more letters. I think letters deserve a come-back, as do horse-drawn carriages. (What better way to stave off global-warming?)

In fact, if I can pick a bone, (and why not, it's my blog that nobody reads, I can write whatever I want and if it's really bad, I can delete later on. Wow. The internet is amazing.), why do people send holiday cards without a personal message of any kind? Now, I love you if you sent me one at all, but not even one little word written in ink? That's like sending a Hallmark card without writing even your NAME in it. We really shouldn't let Hallmark do all the work for us or our loving, writing brains will atrophy.

Perhaps you'll join me in a new year of letter writing. Or, if you like, you can just tell me your new year's resolution with a comment. At least then we will be interacting. I love interacting. It's an improvement on acting in every way.

Now back to my one-armed life (toddler in the other arm). Wish me biceps.

My Year's End Top Ten

2009-12-29T16:42:00.003-05:00

Not that I have a devoted following of millions, but my apologies anyway for such lazy blogging. I hope all of you were doing holidays anyway and not glued to your computer. People will like you so much more if you talk to them in person rather than send them a virtual message. (Trust me on this one.)

At any rate, hard though it is to be funny (very hard, sometimes), I will try to wrap up this glorious year with my Top Ten Mothering Moments. Feel free to send me yours. (And copyright them if you don't want them used in a future book of mine! Just kidding.)

Top Ten Mama Moments of 2009

10. My son, standing at a public potty, says to me: "Mama, sometimes my penis gets a little rusty."

(And no, I do not know what he meant by that. And yes, I asked.)

9. During a routine poppy diaper change, I noticed a flap of skin on my daughter's rear. (The really rear part of her rear.) It was pink. And small. I called my mother. I had no idea a baby could get hemorrhoids.
On later inspection, the thing accidentally fell off. To my total horror. And thus I discovered an undigested piece of pink salmon eaten the night before for dinner.

8. After the death of our cat, my son, curious about life and death, asks my husband, "What's alive?" He wants to know if beds are alive, if houses are alive, if cups are alive. Then he asks, "Daddy, are books alive?"
(What would you say?)

7. On an exciting trip to Vermont, my husband and I stopped for lunch and extracted the children from the backseat. Where we discovered my daughter covered in poop. Having no where to go and not wanting to bring her into the restaurant in such a state (and also unable to hold her in anyway without getting covered ourselves), we stripped her down on the sidewalk and used the entire box of wipes to clean her. Whoa onto the poor innocent diners eating on the sidewalk who had to witness this event. (We did try to conceal our activities. You know, in case it's illegal to change a baby in public. Which I'm sure it is. Somewhere.)

6. The classic and darling moment when my toddler, in public, began diving down my shirt, then ripping it off me, while screaming, "Nursies!" (Later when I told this story to a LLLI leader, she said, all too wisely, "That's great. What a moment to educate the public about nursing.")

5. Walking through the Borders Books in Vermont days before a book signing with my son and daughter slyly looking around for my book which I couldn't find anywhere. I gave up and started to head out when my son tugged my hand. "That's the same baby we have," he said, pointing at something. When I turned to see what he was pointing at, I discovered an enormous Danielle Steele worthy display of THIS LITTLE MOMMY STAYED HOME. With that fat baby on the cover.

4. This isn't mine. I've totally borrowed it. But it's the best. My friend has a toddler. The toddler calls her daddy's manly item (seen on rare occasions during dressing and also known as the penis for the more literal minded) his tail.

3. My son, during a play date, began to act wild, unruly, hyper and spastic. Otherwise, just like a three year old. He kept taking his friend's toys. After a particular bad go around between the two of them, my son said, "I'm really a good boy. I just act crazy sometimes."
So, you can teach them to use their words, but it won't make them act any better!

2. In a perfect moment of modeling his mother, my son, woken too early by his sister (while sleeping in the same room on vacation), said, in response to my daughter's request to "get my books," "Mama can get them later. I'm too tired."

1. Waking up, my son snuggled beside me (having snuck in from his own room), I turn and give him a warm cuddle and a kiss, and he says, "Mama, your breath smells."

Well, life is sweet, even if my breath isn't.
I wish you true sweetness in 2010!

The Origin of Streaking

2009-12-21T20:14:00.002-05:00

Tonight, post-bath, Adeline decided to run naked back and forth through the hallway. My son found this so truly hysterical that he couldn't stop laughing, then, naturally, couldn't wait to join in. I observed these moments of pure delight with fond memories of the streakers in my college days who also appreciated their moments of nude revelry. Surely, we were all born to streak.

And then you grow up, and things change. Like your body.

I've been hanging out with some other "changed-body people." A.K.A. mothers. Motherhood has inducted me into this secret society where stretch-marks can be discussed with a certain air of competition. Where else can this be done?

I am certain that I ought to be blogging about life's deeper profundities. Were I not thoroughly consumed with a child who can scream continuously for almost an hour, I might have the time to consider the finer things of life.

Oh, right, unless, like those in the secret society, I hold some sense that parenting is one of the finer things in life. Or that, at least, in believing that (since we get to believe whatever we want), I regain my sanity. Never my former belly. Sanity, however, remains the more significant of the two, despite what all the beer commercials would have you believe. Beauty won't get you far if you're crazy.

What We Buy For Christmas

2009-12-14T10:00:00.003-05:00

However scrooge-like I may seem in saying this, I don't like buying for Christmas. Or, at any rate, I don't like the "enforced" compulsion to buy arbitrarily.

And with kids? My son would just as soon get a branch to play with than a toy. My daughter gets really excited just before we nurse. The greatest gift I could get is sleep. And I think my husband would like me to get out of bed.

See? Nowhere in there are fancy presents, plastic things that sing, or objects to get broken, lost or fought over.

We like to give our hard earned cash to The Food Bank of Western Mass. We also like Heifer International. My husband likes Habitat for Humanity. But I think if you're going to give, the nicest way is more personally--if you know someone who has a need and you can supply it anonymously. I especially love to give to new mothers, so if you know of a new mother in need of something, tell me. I'd like to help.

In the meantime, I have to go purchase some Scotch tape. (We don't have any.) So I can wrap the two gifts that I've bought. The rest I am planning on baking.

Cause, hey, really, all we need is love.

More Mysteries of the Universe

2009-12-10T16:32:00.003-05:00

The thing about children is that when you're pregnant, you think you're going to have a baby. When they are born, you realize it's a person. I look at my children, sometimes, and marvel that they are themselves completely apart from any nurturing influence. All my good schooling has been blown to pieces: I believe in nature.

You can tell me then whether or not there is something in nature that creates the gender divide which brings about situations like this: as I make breakfast for myself and the two children, my husband makes his own breakfast. (In the same amount of time.) While I dress myself and the two children, my husband dresses himself. (In the same amount of time.) Of course, I adore him, and he is perfect as he is, I'm just pointing out what seems to me to be a great mystery. Have you noticed this before?

I suppose, and in my world I'd agree, that this men are from mars business doesn't suit anyone's full humanity. But by observation, it seems to be more true than before children, that men and women are not exactly the same.

Have any of you other wise, liberated women of the world come across such a mystery?

What to Get for the Holidays

2009-12-07T09:29:00.002-05:00

Probably I should win an award for most boring person of the year.

I am, in fact, so boring that I can't even think of anything to blog about. I must then give in to seasonal blogging.

It's the holiday season. (I actually love this time of year and have lots of profound things to say about it, which I will spare you.)

So you're probably wondering what you can get me as a present, but are undoubtedly too shy to ask.

What I want for Christmas from the blogging universe is a second printing for my novel. You can either go out and buy 2000 copies personally (only about $20,000), or you can simply buy a few for your friends.

Seriously, I think the book is a perfect gift for new mothers. If you give my book and Anne Lamott's OPERATING INSTRUCTIONS you will make a new mother happy, healthy and sane in the new year. You will help her to feel like her feelings are okay. You will let her know that she is not alone. You will give her laughter. I have a special place for new mothers in my heart, having been one myself so recently, and if we can have some new-mother sanity, we will be that much closer to peace on earth. And a second printing for my book.

Wendy Nelson Tokunaga

2009-12-03T18:00:00.004-05:00

I've got another good read, good thing too since the holidays are here and in my family the best gift is always a book.

Wendy Nelson Tokunaga, in addition to having just published her second novel, is a serious Japanse karaoke singer. How cool is that?

Her new novel sports the truly excellent and green (as in envy) inspiring title: Love in Translation. It looks like an engrossing read--and beyond that, the interview below with Tokunaga is a great one for aspiring writers, a group she often works with.

(Lovely cover too. My favorite colors.)

Here's the meat of the book: After receiving a puzzling phone call and a box full of mysteries, 33-year-old fledgling singer Celeste Duncan is off to Japan to search for a long, lost relative who could hold the key to the identity of the father she never knew. This overwhelming place where nothing is quite as it seems changes Celeste in ways she never expected, leading her to ask: What is the true meaning of family? And what does it mean to discover your own voice?

What inspired Love in Translation?
Many things. LOVE IN TRANSLATION is my cockeyed valentine to Japan, which is a place I’ve both loved and loathed, a place that has fueled both fascination and frustration. And it is also a place that has had a huge impact on my life and writing. I also wanted to explore what it means to be a gaijin (foreigner) in Japan and the benefits and downsides of that status and what happens when a gaijin sings in Japanese. I also am fascinated by the concept of the homestay, (something I never experienced), and how that would impact someone as an adult who grew up in foster homes and who never experienced a real family.

If you weren’t writing, what would you be doing instead?
I’d be singing. Before I started writing fiction I wrote songs, sang lead and played bass guitar in my own bands. Later on I got into singing Japanese karaoke. And further down the road I took voice lessons from a great Japanese jazz singer. I learned so much from her and was able to take my singing to a whole new level. I began to sing jazz standards with my husband accompanying me on keyboards. We play low-key venues once in a while but usually we just practice for fun at home.

Which craft books have inspired or helped you throughout your writing career?
There are many and some are not technically “craft” books such as “The Resilient Writer: Tales of Rejection and Triumph from 23 Top Authors” by Catherine Wald. Others include “bird by bird” by Anne Lamott, “The First Five Pages” by Noah Lukeman and “The Art & Craft of Novel Writing” by Oakley Hall.

What do you consider the heart of your story?
My stories seem to have several “hearts,” or at least I see them that way. In LOVE IN TRANSLATION it’s how Celeste Duncan, a woman without a family, finds one in a foreign culture. It’s also about the power of music on the soul and heart and the meaning of finding your own voice, both in the singing sense and the identity sense.

What has brought the greatest joy since you were published? The greatest angst?
I’d say the greatest joy is having readers who appreciate your writing. And the greatest angst is in working hard to keep those readers and gain more.

What do you love about being an author?
There’s so much that I enjoy. First, it’s great to be paid for something you love to do. But I also find it inspiring to help other writers. I enjoy telling my story of woe on my road to publication and let others know that they don’t need any special connections to the publishing world in order to get published. I like to promote the message that you should never give up. And if you work hard, keep at it and be flexible, your publishing dream may come true. I also like helping other writers make their work the best it can be.

What’s one piece of writing advice you’ve found valuable on your journey to publication?
That often you won’t discover the real story you’re trying to tell until the revision process.

What’s next for you?
I’m working on a novel that is a different departure for me: it has very little to do with Japan!

Thanks, Wendy! I can't wait to read it.

Another Writing Mother

2009-11-30T10:02:00.005-05:00

I love mothers who write. And I'm always thrilled to hear of another one.

Here's Melissa Senate. She's gorgeous. Her latest novel, THE SECRET OF JOY, has just come out.

It's her EIGHTH novel! (Since 2001, no less.) Below is some advanced praise for the book.

"The Secret of Joy by Melissa Senate opened my heart, made me laugh, cry, and smile all at the same time. A don't-miss read!" –New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips

"The Secret of Joy is a warm hug of a book. Insightful, wise, and romantic, it's as inviting as the small-town life it depicts." –Claire LaZebnik

"A wonderfully heartfelt story about hope, possibilities and the yearning for real connections. Senate's latest will take you on a much needed vacation, while sneaking vital life lessons in when you're not looking." –Caprice Crane

"The Secret of Joy is a heartwarming story that hits all the right notes. Senate has you cheering for more." –Cara Lockwood

What could be a better read for this time of year?

I had a chance to virtually interview Melissa. Here's what she said.

Give us a brief synopsis of the book.

A: 28-year-old New Yorker Rebecca Strand is shocked when her dying father confesses a devastating secret: he had affair when Rebecca was a toddler—and a baby he turned his back on at birth. Now, his wish is that the daughter he abandoned, Joy Joyhawk, read the unsent letters he wrote to her every year on her birthday. Determined to fulfill her father’s wish, Rebecca drives to a small town in Maine—against the advice of her lawyer boyfriend who’s sure Joy will be a “disappointing, trashy opportunist” and demand half her father’s fortune. But when hopeful Rebecca knocks on her half-sister’s door, Joy—a separated mother who conducts weekend singles tours out of her orange mini-bus—wants nothing to do with Rebecca or the letters her father wrote to her. Determined to forge some kind of relationship with Joy, Rebecca sticks around, finding unexpected support from Joy’s best clients—the Divorced Ladies Club of Wiscasset—and a sexy carpenter named Theo . . . .

If you could only own and read 5 books for the rest of your life, (excluding your own) what five books would you choose?

The Portable Dorothy Parker; the collected works of William Shakespeare; To Kill A Mockingbird; Anne of Green Gables; The Color Purple; and I can’t leave off this gem: Why I Like My Mommy by Max (my son’s latest work in first grade!)

Any tried and true tricks for beating procrastination?

Tried but not true: taking laptop to a library or coffee lounge without wi-fi. I can’t handle more than an hour or two without checking email or reading through Twitter or Facebook. Tried and true: a deadline, whether self-given or publisher-given.

Which 'craft' book has inspired or helped you the most throughout your writing career?

The most inspiring, to me, is Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. But I also love Stephen King’s On Writing; Carolyn See’s How To Make A Literary Life, and Elizabeth Berg’s Escaping Into The Open.

What’s next for you?

Next up is my second novel for teens, The Mosts, which will be published by Random House in June 2010. Then, my next women’s fiction novel from Simon & Schuster, The Love Goddess’s Cooking School, about five people in an Italian cooking class, will be published November 2010. I’m staring down a 1/1 deadline (the worst deadline to have!) And I’m being poked at by a new idea . . . .

Thanks, Melissa! I wish you continued success and more happy times in Maine.

Thank You

2009-11-24T17:17:00.004-05:00

For thanksgiving, I would like to thank all the little people who made it possible.

Just kidding. I'll save that line until I'm on Oprah. In the meantime, I find this Thanksgiving that I have friends everywhere I go. Literally.

My experience of my debut novel has given me the chance to reconnect and connect with so many people I love. This is not what I thought would come out of my book talks and book signings and frail attempts at publicity. But it is what has happened nonetheless.

At my book launch back in June, a crowd filled the small space to overflowing; the books were sold out. This doesn't happen with a debut novel because as a new author, nobody knows you. The space was filled with friends and family and neighbors, yoga students and those who know me in my work as a minister.

Before each of my book signings, I worried that no one would come. The thought of sitting at a table piled high with stacks of my novel while people simply walked past me, sent my ego into tremors of despair. Instead, every single one of those events (eight of them), were attended, and attended with love. In Connecticut, my dear friend arrived with friends of hers in tow; we sat in a small circle and talked about books, motherhood and life. In Vermont, two friends I met years ago while at Kripalu came to sit with me (and brought friends). In Concord, three of my high school teachers filled the seats, and their presence brought out great tears from me. I felt so honored to have them there. At all of these venues, and the others, "people" showed up too. Regular, interesting people who were not my friends, but instead of crowds waiting at the door at 6 a.m. (as they do for Harry Potter books), I drew in a small circle. One of love.

In my visits to book groups, I have had such an marvelous, hilarious, heartwarming time. Being with the women and mothers who have read the book and appreciated it, has made all the difference in the world to me. It has reminded me why I wrote it in the first place.

And then on this totally impersonal blog, and through my hapless attempts at publicity, I have come into contact with some amazing women, including the powerful feministbreeder and more recently the wonderful mother who reviewed my book for 5minutesformom. (You can see her site at 5minutesforbooks.) Susan at bizymoms was a delight and a great support getting a page set up over there.

Really, love is all around. Love is everywhere we go.

So if you STILL haven't got your hands on a copy of THIS LITTLE MOMMY STAYED HOME, there's a give-away going on at 5minutesformom. Enter to win a signed copy. I happen to think there's some love in that book also. I don't think it will automatically turn me into the Patron Saint of New Mamas, but maybe some day?

Are we ever good enough?

2009-11-19T17:12:00.002-05:00

I was asked, for an interview, what advice I could offer other writers now that I have finally "got there."

My advice? You never get there.

I received a statement of my royalties in the mail the other day. That means my publisher told me how many books I've sold so far. Boo-hoo is all I can say. A big, fat boo-hoo.

All we ever want, we think, is for this one thing to happen. And then it does, and we change our minds and now we want this one thing to happen.

"You got a book published!" my husband says. Boo-hoo. Boo-hoo. "Oprah didn't read it," I said.

"Imagine all those books you sold lined up in the living room. There wouldn't be room!" he says. Boo-hoo. "I didn't make the best seller list."

"Think of all the people you've made laugh." Boo-hoo. Boo-hoo. "Is that enough?"

Is that enough?

And the sun rises and falls, and the children laugh and scream, and the bloggers keep on blogging into the vast quiet of the internet.

I look at these children. They are already good enough. We come out good enough. Boo-hoo, boo-hoo. We just forget.

Love Under Cover

2009-11-16T10:02:00.006-05:00

I am so excited to be blogging about my friend Jessica Brody, whose second novel, LOVE UNDER COVER, is hot off the press. In addition to being a fantastic novelist and a fellow Smith alum, Jessica has been a great source of support to me as a writer. She created and runs the fantastic website freebookfriday. If you haven't found it already, you have a chance every week to win a book. She's such a big hit that her first novel, THE FIDELITY FILES is being made into a TV series. (Wow.) But really, I love her for helping me so selflessly so many times as I have gone through the publishing process. Not that you should read her novels simply because she is good. You should read them because they are good.

Here's a brief summary of the new book:

In her job, she’s an expert on men…
In her own relationship, she doesn’t have a clue.
Boyfriend behaving badly? Suspect your husband of straying? Jennifer Hunter can supply the ultimate test. She runs a company which specializes in conducting fidelity inspections for those who suspect their loved ones are capable of infidelity.An expert on men, Jennifer can usually tell if they're single, married or lying... Unfortunately, her new boyfriend, Jamie, is one of the few men that she's never been able to 'read.' Has she finally found the perfect man or is he too good to be true?

And some advance praise:

"With a complicated, sympathetic protagonist, worthy stakes and a clever twist on the standard chick lit narrative, Brody will pull readers in from the first page."
– Publisher’s Weekly

"Those who enjoyed Brody's debut will be eager to catch up with Jennifer, but newcomers will be intrigued, too...an honest, witty portrayal of modern love."
- Booklist

Okay, Jessica. Here's what we really want to know:

Since becoming a writer, what’s the most glamorous thing you’ve ever done?

When my first book, The Fidelity Files, came out in France last year, my French publisher actually flew me out to Paris to promote it! It was a dream come true! I speak French almost fluently so I was able to conduct all my interviews in French, which was both nerve wrecking and exciting at the same time. Paris has always held a special place in my heart. I was a French major in college and I lived in Paris my junior abroad. Plus, I spent a month in Paris in 2005 finishing the novel so it was all very magical and kismet to be back there to see it in French book stores!

If you could be a superhero, what would you superpower be?

Calorie Immunity. That would definitely be my super power. The ability to eat anything I want and be completely unaffected by the calories contained within. That would be really awesome. And I guess that would automatically make my nemesis cupcakes. Although, if this were a comic book, he would be called “Dr. Cupcake” and his side kick would be called “Sprinkles.”

Do you have a sample chapter posted?

Absolutely! www.jessicabrody.com/loveundercover_excerpt.html

What's the main thing you hope people take away from your book?

Entertainment. That’s all I seek to do. Entertain people. The reason I started writing was because of Bridget Jones’ Diary by Helen Fielding. I read that book in college whenever I would go to the gym and I remember looking down at the elliptical and thinking, “Seriously? I’ve already been exercising for thirty minutes!?” The time would FLY by. I was so inspired and awed by the fact that a book could take me away from my life like that. I knew from that day on that I wanted to be a writer so I could attempt to do the same. So if my book can help pass the time of a long flight or a boring workout then I’ve accomplished my goal. And if some of the issues about relationships and love and trust that I’ve delved into get people thinking, than that’s just icing on the cupcake.

What’s next for you?

Although I strive to live in the moment, I can’t help but be excited about the future! I’ve got three young adult books scheduled to come out in the next three years from Farrar, Straus, & Giroux. The first, THE KARMA CLUB, releases on April 27 and I simply can’t wait! It’s about three teen girls who are tired of waiting for Karma to get off its butt and do its job, so they decide to give Karma a helping hand by getting revenge on their evil ex-boyfriends. But they soon discover that when you mess with Karma, Karma messes back. It’s a story I wanted to tell for years and I’m so glad it’s finally going to be put out to the world. The teen voice feels very natural to me (not sure what that says about my inherent maturity level, but whatever!) and the YA novels are such a blast to write. I think the teenage years resonate with everyone in some way. For me, my teen years were very painful so it’s somewhat therapeutic to be able to “go back” and relive them with all the knowledge and wisdom that I have now!

You're awesome, Jessica! May this be a huge success and may you have another trip to Paris! (But don't wear your sweatpants.)

No Wonder We're All on Medication

2009-11-12T16:57:00.002-05:00

It's hard to be critical of the very thing you're doing....no, that isn't true. I'm critical of blogging even while I'm blogging.

Is their any other activity of the modern age so touted for making connection that makes you feel so, well, alone?

It's like writing a diary no one wants to read. And I don't just mean me. (For the record, none of this stuff is anywhere as interesting as what I write in my real journal. That's all sex, drugs, scandal and excitement.) Some lucky bloggers get a volume of comments. Like, for example, Michelle Duggar. But then if she reads them she'll have to shift through the invective--not my cup of tea.

But then I am a touchy-feely person. Sitting alone in front of my computer is my least favorite time of day. And, too, I get it. No one has time to read this stuff, let alone comment on it. We're all too busy with our lives full of technology and medication. No wonder. A virtual community is just that. Virtual. A.K.A., not real. Not that I want to be a whistle blower, but how can it compare with sitting together in front of the fire next to our cave?

Ah, for those good old days.

Mama Needs a Time Out

2009-11-06T14:12:00.003-05:00

It wasn't pretty here yesterday if you count the number of people screaming in relation to the number of people in the house. (Three of us. Three of us screaming.)

It drove me back to my parenting library of which I make regular use. I find a need a continual school in mothering, especially when I feel as though I'm failing.

I'm sure there are countless resources on the web, but I am a fan of the old fashioned paper book and wanted to share a few of my favorites for dealing with discipline.

Learning a Loving Way of Life
Adventures in Gentle Discipline
The Negotiation Generation
Scream Free Parenting

And, of course, This Little Mommy Stayed Home, which won't teach you how to parent, but will make you laugh.

Others you've found useful?

The Origin of Grouchiness

2009-11-04T10:49:00.003-05:00

There are so many things about motherhood that are rarely spoken of, like, for example, the loss of sleep. Not unlike the acute loss of blood.

But moms are beginning to complain about this terrible phenomenon--in a cutesy sort of way. Nobody bothers to comment on the real effects of long-term sleep-deprivation, among them, the evil and sinister perpetual grouchiness.

What's even more interesting? Even after your children have learned to sleep through the night, you will still wake, at regular intervals, like Pavlov's dog, trained to startle at the smallest sound. You will think, of course my baby hasn't strangled herself in her sleep, she's too old. She'd call out. She can talk. I have a friend who still goes in in the middle of the night to cover up her pre-schooler despite his very functioning arms and legs.

So where are the studies on the permanent effects of interrupted sleep? Mama Zombie is not a Halloween costume, but a sleep-deprived woman who will never be the same.

Enlighten me with links. I'd truly like to know.

Happy Halloween

2009-10-30T20:48:00.003-04:00

I decided, considering the state of the nation, that for Halloween I would dress as a pig--you know, a swine.

But I couldn't make a costume in time. So I decided to try being a neurotic, paranoid person who's obsessed with the media swine-flu blitz.

That way, I get to wear my own clothes.

Feminist Poop

2009-10-28T11:26:00.003-04:00

Here is another excellent review--and a book giveaway--for THIS LITTLE MOMMY STAYED HOME. Enter to win a copy for yourself or a friend.

You may also be interested in reading this reviewer's fantastic blog, thefeministbreeder. She's fascinating and an excellent writer, and who can resist a title like that?

If you think feminism has nothing to do with poop, you may be right. But while the internet is busy with good reviews of my book, I am busy cleaning poop. Specifically, diarrhea, yesterday, off the rug in my daughter's room. Please don't ask. But from this lowly work, great things can come?

Right?

Blogs of Substance

2009-10-23T14:23:00.002-04:00

I've started blogging at a big Massachusetts website, masslive, for something called the Parenting Project.

You can now read my blogs of substance there.

Start here.

This blog will continue to lack substance.

But then, probably, it will be much more enjoyable.

Listen!

2009-10-21T10:28:00.003-04:00

I was just interviewed on Parenting Radio Unplugged, a totally awesome radio--both live and ready for you to download--out in Oregon, that's building a virtual parent network, is a huge resource for parents, and is run by two awesome and funny people, Laura and Todd Mansfield.

You must listen.

It's an excellent, interesting conversation where I spout off about the book (a nice excerpt from it), my thoughts on motherhood, and how I didn't have any romance in the first nine months after my son's birth--except with him. Not only that, I think you'll find much worth listening to if you browse the archives.

For the record, I had to step in at the last moment when Dr. Oz couldn't make it.

Hmmm. Filling in for Dr. Oz. Are you listening Oprah?

The Beat Goes On

2009-10-19T10:35:00.004-04:00

Here's a fantastic review my book got on a blogspot site--except that link won't work, though God knows I tried to make it happen. You will need to manually type in (or cut and paste) bookjunkie79.blogspot.com and then scroll down to see my book.

Unfortunately, I can't open the site. Because my computer had some kind of techno-PMS over the past weekend and gave up on life altogether. Now, it doesn't know how to open pictures and videos and fancy things like word documents. The thing's a Luddite, like me. Neither the computer nor I like technology. Of course, that's a really bad quality for a computer to have, but nevermind. None of us is perfect.

Life marches on, regardless of my ability to communicate with other bloggers. If you can open this woman's site, please thank her for me. She adored the book and so, therefore, I adore her.

And speaking of adorable things, aren't your children priceless in their Halloween costumes? If you submit your photos to the bizymoms.com Halloween contest you can win my book! That's right. A free, autographed copy of my outstanding novel THIS LITTLE MOMMY STAYED HOME could be delivered to your doorstep and all you have to do is send in a photo of your beloved kid.

I'm off tomorrow to another book club event. If you can get your book club together to read my book, I might just show up. You have to be in walking or driving distance. OR, I can make a virtual trip. I've got Skype, you know, so don't feel disappointed. This famous novelist will come to your meeting and talk about the little-known advantages of sleep-deprivation, like novel writing. Think of how popular you'll be!

Want some good listening?

2009-10-15T16:01:00.003-04:00

THIS LITTLE MOMMY STAYED HOME has been featured on the very cool bizymoms.com.
You can listen to the podcast interview here.

I go on about motherhood as a calling, how to get published, and how to write a book with a baby underfoot and another on the way. Talk about content!

Let me know what you think. No, really, I mean it.

The Old Lady Who Lived in a Shoe

2009-10-14T10:50:00.002-04:00

Ever just long for the old days of child rearing?

Whip them and put them to bed?

Modern parenting is soooo involved. You've got to get attached and then get them unattached and keep them happy and make sure they become responsible, green, compassionate, world-enhancing little creatures.

And to think there was a time when pregnant women smoked and drank whiskey without a thought!

Or course, the world is being run by those children now....

I know an old woman who had five children. (But didn't live in a shoe.) I asked her how she did it. "In those days? In those days we didn't have all this stuff you do. If they cried, I'd say, 'I'll give you something to cry about.'"

Oh, for simpler times.

An Academic Oversight

2009-10-07T14:08:00.003-04:00

Believe me when I say that I know as well as most, if not better, that motherhood can be dull, tedious, repetitive, draining, and insular. That despite all of that, it is also fascinating, deeply meaningful, educational, and fun, is nothing short of miracle. How many things can you think of that would fall into both of those camps? Filing? Boring, not ever deeply meaningful. Teaching? Deeply meaningful not really insular. Slaying dragons? Repetitive maybe but never dull.

If you're waiting for a point, I have one.

My Alma mater, a prestigious woman's college (you won't have to search far to know which one), has not gone to the trouble of including me in their "recently published" list in their alum magazine. Of course, I am told that my itsy-bitsy three line listing could not make it in due to space. That may be true.

Or it may not be. Correct me if I'm wrong, but generally, no one takes chick lit seriously. (A serous mistake.) And funny, fast fiction about motherhood? Well, why would they write on that when they've got half of their graduates saving orphans and stopping wars. Giving a new mother a few hours of hilarious pleasure and a reason to get through her day without throwing her infant into the dishwasher? Who has space for that?

Seriously, I'm angry, but in a really happy sort of way. (Yes, it's possible.) Because I feel like the truth that gets revealed in their "oversight" or general neglect of my publication fortifies my purpose. Did I write a novel for the academics to ponder? For the award committees to select? Or did I write a novel for the mothers, to reflect their experience, with honesty and humor, because humor is nothing short of salvation when you're working on no sleep. Never mind wars in other countries, I'm hoping for peace in the homeland.

It does bother me. And it bothers me that only few in the "press" have got my little book. The reviewer I feel who got it most? A Man. In this interview, he gathered together the whole of my work in the world, as a minister, a mother, a yoga teacher, and a novelist. Why does a minister start her novel with an in-depth investigation of the post-partum vagina? Why does a feminist write about staying-home?

Whether they like it or not (that school of mine), the reality in my book is one that most mothers have lived. In the acute, intense, and nothing-else-like-it period after the birth of the first child, nothing tethers you to the ground, not your degree in ancient history, not your Prada handbag, not your working spouse, not your working self. Is this a reality anybody takes seriously for its profoundly transformative powers?

I, for one, do.

And since when does being funny mean you can't make a point? It may be the only time we get a point, when we're laughing with recognition.

So please, though we are the silent, boring, and tedious majority, put a mother on the cover of your alum magazine. Someone out there will be interested.

The Anti-Blogger Gets Mean

2009-10-05T10:57:00.002-04:00

Oh, how the world of non-communicative, virtual communications gets my panties in a bundle.

If raising children is real, immediate, a truly felt, lived, intimate, and responsive reality, everything else is so, well, fake.

Like I had a fake conversation with a (supposedly) real person at amazon.com. Did you know you could call these people? And listen to them read scripts and put you on hold for hours, all so you can send them your money? Yes, well, if you're interested in wasting some time, you can do just that.

And, for heaven's sake, stop inviting me to join a "social networking" site and invite me over for dinner. I don't want 100 friends who don't know anything about me, or conversely know everything about me but don't know me at all.

It's a vast soul-less mecca out there, and yet, perversely, it's all we have sometimes. We're so rushed we can't make time for friends, because we have to spend all our time on the unfriendly computer with its wild deceptions.

What can I say? If I filled this site with lots of naked pictures of myself doing raunchy things, I would be so popular. But just writing about motherhood? I say, if sex is original (which it's not), than so is motherhood. And it's live and vital and rich, whereas virtual coitus, not so much.

Wouldn't it be nice if, when you called some place, any place, there were a real voice on the other side?

Hey, I've got my daughter hugging trees. You can't hug your monitor. Go ahead. Try it. I dare you.

Jane Austen Rules

2009-10-02T14:32:00.006-04:00

I've got another GCC novelist "visiting" today. Marilyn Brant's debut novel has just come out. Since I've just had my first novel released, I know what an exciting, hair-raising time it is. Not that this lady needs my help. Kelly Moran of Bookpleasures wrote, "This was a truly, irrevocably inspiring novel." Could praise get much better than that? Marilyn is also a mother. Which makes her very cool indeed to me. See below for all the great stuff she has to say about motherhood and writing.

The book: ACCORDING TO JANE. Another wonderful cover.

And the interview:

Tell us about your latest release and the inspiration behind it.

My debut novel, According to Jane, is the story of a modern woman who--for almost two decades--has the ghost of Jane Austen in her head giving her dating advice. I first read Pride & Prejudice as a high-school freshman. Like my heroine Ellie, I raced through the novel way ahead of the reading assignments. I loved both the story and Austen’s writing style immediately. Her books changed the way I perceived the behavior of everyone around me, and I spent the rest of freshman year trying to figure out which Austen character each of my friends and family members most resembled! Also like Ellie, I had a few (okay, a lot) of less-than-wonderful boyfriends, and I would have loved to have been given romantic advice from the author I most respected and the one who’d written one of my all-time favorite love stories.

How do you balance your mothering and your writing?
This is an ever-evolving challenge. As my son has gotten older, he's been able to do many simple things independently that I'd had to help him with a few years ago (i.e., pour a bowl of cereal for himself, get dressed on his own, etc.), but he now needs to go to new activities like cross-country practice or swimming lessons or youth-group services that he wouldn't have attended previously. I need to shift the way I do my work to accommodate his schedule--sometimes editing in the car while waiting for him, often just putting off my tasks until he's asleep or occupied doing something of his own at home.

How do mothers show up in the novel?
My heroine's mother is very much a tangential character in the story. Since I parallel Austen's Pride and Prejudice to some extent, my heroine's mom has a touch of the rather frivolous "Mrs. Bennet" about her (the mother of P&P's leading lady, who was an insatiable in her pursuit of suitors for her daughters). In my second novel (due out in October 2010), all three of the main characters are moms, and the act of motherhood plays a far greater role in that story.

Has being a mother changed how you write?
LOL--being a mother has changed how I do everything, Sam! I became a writer largely *because* I became a mom. I felt it was critical for me to pursue my passions as a parent and to set an example of doing this for my child. I didn't want--not even for one moment--to have my son feel I was living my life through him. More specific to writing itself, I feel so much compassion for the mothers in my books! For the choices moms have to make, the time and energy motherhood requires, the tremendous love we feel for these beautiful little beings... Being a mother has been the best part of my life and, also, the biggest growth experience (*grin*).

(I, for one, no nothing of growth experiences. Actually, motherhood has helped me to grow into a much bigger person. Around.)

Marilyn's book is out today, hot off the presses. Can't wait to read it. You can find out all about her at: http://www.marilynbrant.com.

Naughty Bad Thoughts

2009-09-30T14:22:00.002-04:00

Don't get your hopes up. Or anything else for that matter. There is nothing erotic about what I'm going to say. However, if there was, I would probably be exceedingly more popular.

Even if they aren't sexy, there are still naughty bad thoughts:
1. Are we doing too much? I mean the crazy business, and the texting and the jobs and the house and the family? And all the simplify-your-life magazines just tell you more things to BUY. When my daughter grabs her jacket, she says, "hurry." She thinks her jacket is called "hurry." Ouch.
2. Shouldn't somebody stay at home? It doesn't have to be mother, but wouldn't it be nice if it was someone? Keeping the home fires burning? It's not a non-job, it's a calling, the sacred hearth keeper. At least it was, in days of 'yore.
3. Are there more bloggers than people?

I'm just asking.

Things that Aren't

2009-09-25T15:13:00.002-04:00

Hey, want to know a funny thing I did the other day?

I googled "feminist stay-at-home mother."

What I got? A whole lot of articles about how feminism ruined the family.

Now somebody please help me. I know there are more feminist mothers ought there. I know I'm not the only radical mommy on the internet. Well, no one wants to call themselves feminists anymore. On top of that, no one wants to stay home with their kids. I mean, who wants a title that requires three hyphens!!! Please. M.D. doesn't need a hyphen. Neither does Esq.

I'm worried I'm going Conservative. I'm going to read Laura Schlesinger's book "In Praise of Stay-at-Home Mothers," because she's the only one who's got anything nice to say about it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go dust some furniture and fix my husband's dinner.

2009-09-23T09:00:00.007-04:00

I'm back with another one of the gorgeous women from the GCC blog network. Hank Phillippi Ryan's third Charlotte McNally mystery has just been published.

This is Hank.

This is her latest detective novel.

And this is what she has to say:

You have won 26 Emmys and 10 Edward R. Murrow Awards. Tell us about the stories that won a couple of these distinguished awards for you.

Here’s a list! We proved the state’s 911 system was sending emergency responders to the wrong addresses. We found there was not one person of color on the federal jury pools in parts of Massachusetts. We discovered why thousand of people were never called for jury duty. We found there were thousands of warrants for peoples’ arrests that were never served . We found people convicted of drunk driving who were still on the road. We found unsafe big rig trucks on the highways and found they were illegally ignoring the weight limits on the state’s bridges, thereby causing expensive and dangerous damage. We found school buses with massive mechanical problems. We found the unit pricing in stores was completely incorrect. We found unscrupulous mortgage companies luring people into foreclosure. At least four—maybe five?—laws have changed as a result of our stories and people have gotten literally millions in refunds and restitution.

(Um. Wow. Speechless. Did I fail to mention that in addition to being a novelist, Hank is a investigative TV reporter. That's just so cool! And she's been doing it for 30 years!)

Your job sounds very demanding. How (and when) do you find the time to write? Do you ever take a vacation, and, if so, what do you do with your time off?

Short answer—no. I don’t take vacations anymore. We used to! We love Nevis, a tiny island in the Caribbean with empty white beaches and nothing to do. We love to go to western Massachusetts, to Tanglewood, to go to plays and the symphony and museums. We love to go to Cape Cod, to Truro, to sit on the beach with pals and read, then go out to wonderful dinners. All in the past. Now, I write. And Jonathan lounges in the back yard. Luckily, we have a lovely yard, with a pool and beautiful gardens.

What do you wish readers knew about you?

I’m a pretty good cook! I love arranging flowers. I’m…nice. I have such a tough persona on TV—I’m always confronting someone, asking tough questions, being just a tad pushy—so people are always surprised to see me smile. I think I’m pretty funny, too . . . but that may be just me.

Here's a tiny plot summary for AIR TIME: Charlie enters the glamorous and high-stakes world of high fashion—and soon discovers when the purses are fake, the danger is real. Carrying a hidden camera and dressing to deceive, Charlie's not the only one disguising her identity. In her high-risk job and in her suddenly steamy love life, how can she tell the real thing?

Delicious reading for the fall!

Try This

2009-09-16T14:16:00.002-04:00

So I was imagining what it would be like to hire someone to do my job for the morning. I made a list:

1. Get the children dressed and don't forget to dress yourself. Moisturize so you won't look older than you are, even if you look as old as you are.
2. Feed everyone. Feed yourself. It must be nutritious, contain whole grain, and have some protein.
3. While you are fixing/eating breakfast, unstack the dishwasher, empty the dish drainer, clean whatever is left in the sink. Make a grocery list. Look in the cookbook for a few interesting child friendly recipes. Make sure to eat your breakfast. Drink your tea before it gets cold. Go to the bathroom. Don't let the children harm the furniture.
4. Take the preschooler to preschool. Be nice to the other mothers. Act friendly and open. Smile at everyone. Don't wonder whether you remembered to brush your hair.
5. Go to the hardware store with the baby. Get a roller to finish painting the cupboards. Get storage bins for summer clothes.
6. Go to the grocery store. Buy what's on your list. Think: healthy, protein, not too expensive. Pay attention to everything you buy and it's nutritional value. Keep talking to the baby. Make it fun for her. Race the car through the parking lot just to be a "fun" kind of mom.
7. Go home. Take the groceries in. Unpack the groceries. Change the baby's diaper. Give her a snack.
8. Take a walk. Walk quickly. Remember if you only exercise a few times a week, it better really count. Point everything out to the baby so she doesn't feel neglected. Think uplifting thoughts.
9. Play with the baby outside. Give her fresh air. Don't think about anything but her. Give her total, one-on-one your older brother is at school time.
10. Change her diaper. Look at the mail. Sort it. Recycle envelopes.
11. Pick up the preschooler. Make new friends. Let the kids play.
12. Take them home. Change the baby's diaper. Put the toddler on the potty. Wash every one's hands. Feed them a healthy, empowering kind of lunch. Eat yours while sitting down for at least three minutes.
13. Keep everyone happy. Speak gently. Enjoy every minute of it. Be grateful. Go to the bathroom.
14. Put each one on the potty. Wipe bums. Smile.

Now that ought to be worth at least $8 an hour, wouldn't you say?

Who's Sexy?

2009-09-14T13:51:00.004-04:00

Whether or not it's a sign of some kind, I don't know, but I did find myself, over the weekend, test driving a minivan (yes, the very kind of car I have insulted like a philandering ex), and also, hanging out with a guy we'll call James. Not just any guy, of course. James was the salesman. He wasn't hanging out with me because he liked me, he just wanted to sell me a car.

So James and I are cruising around the block in this totally awesome vehicle with leather interior (DVD included!!!--would be even cooler if my children watched TV, which they don't), when I say to him, "Minivans are so not sexy." He laughs. "Not that I need to be sexy." He laughs. "No one looks sexy in a minivan. Not even a sexy person."

Needless to say, this was something of a redundant, asinine sort of one-way conversation, the type you make when you don't have anything to say. ("Wow. Cool turn signal." Where can you go from there?) And certainly it didn't dawn on me, not once, that it could be awkward for this man to hear me ramble on about sexiness. And why would it? I don't identify people any longer as male and female. Either you pick up toys or you don't. Those are the two types of people in the world.

Only later, when I saw him walking down the hall, a great, tall, strong, figure, did it occur to me that he was a man. Thankfully, I am certain that he didn't perceive me as a woman.

Which is all to say, that despite my protestations, I got out of that navy blue used family van feeling like a million bucks. That thing has bucket seats! I felt like the Queen of England. I can fit 25 children in there AND luggage. Cup holders next to the third row of seats? God, what genius thinks of this stuff?

Never mind sexy. Family-friendly is the new black.

Crossing Washington Square

2009-09-10T16:00:00.009-04:00

You can think of me as an internet blog sieve. Only holding the good stuff.

Today that good stuff is Joanne Rendell, who besides homeschooling her six year old (amazing and cool, see what she has to say about it below), writes novels. And, they're really good too. So, see, you can have it all.

This is Joanne. (Love the pic.)

Her new book is CROSSING WASHINGTON SQUARE. (Love the cover!)

Here's some advance praise: “Rendell’s second novel is thoughtful and open, with plenty of interesting academic debate for truly bookish readers.” Booklist

"For every reader who has ever wondered why nineteenth century novels about women are called ‘the canon’, but contemporary novels about women are called ‘chick-lit’ comes a charming, witty and cerebral novel about Rachel Grey, an Austen-worth heroine fighting for love and respect in the academic shark tank." Nicola Kraus, New York Times bestselling coauthor of The Nanny Diaries (I for one have wondered.)

And here's what the lady herself has to say.

What was your inspiration behind your latest novel?

The idea for Crossing Washington Square evolved over a few years. As someone who has lived the academic life (I have a PhD in literature and now I’m married to a professor at NYU), I’ve always loved books about the university – novels like Michael Chabon’s Wonder Boys, Richard Russo’s The Straight Man, Zadie Smith’s On Beauty, and Francine Prose’s Blue Angel. But what I noticed about such campus fiction was the lack of female professors in leading roles. Even the female authors like Francine Prose and Zadie Smith’s novels focus on male professors. Furthermore, most of these male professors are disillusioned drunks who quite often sleep with their students! I wanted to write a novel with women professors taking the lead and I wanted these women to be strong and smart and interesting – instead of drunk, despondent, and preoccupied with questionable sexual liaisons!

(Um, Joanne, are you saying we shouldn't like drunk, despondent and sexually preoccupied women?)

Is writing your main job?

When I’m not writing, I’m hanging out with my six year old son who is homeschooled. Although, “homeschool” is somewhat of a misnomer as we spend a relatively small amount of time schooling at “home.” We live in New York so are lucky enough to have an amazing array of fun and educational places on our doorstep. Benny and I, together with his homeschooled friends, are always out on trips to the Met, the Natural History Museum, aquariums, zoos, galleries, libraries, and parks. When we’re not out and about, Benny and I love to read – either together or separately. I’m so thankful he loves books like I do! Also I’m learning so much as a writer through Benny’s books and his homeschool experiences in general. Inspired by another homeschool family, we recently started a loose history curriculum in which we’ve studied dinosaurs, early man, Ancient Mesopotamia, Ancient Egypt followed by Ancient Greece and Rome. We’ve combined relevant story and picture books, with many trips to museums. Benny has learnt a lot, but it’s amazing how much I’ve learned too about Greek myths and Egyptian gods, ancient texts and lost civilizations. I feel my mind – and my writing – expanding because of these studies. Homeschooling isn’t just for six year olds, apparently!

For you, what is the most difficult part of being an author?

Settling down to write. Once I get going, I love it. But there’s just that hurdle of getting going which is so hard -- especially these days when there are so many demands on authors to go online and promote our books. It is wonderful to meet people and connect and learn through the internet, but the web is also a huge procrastination vortex! I sometimes kid myself I’m doing promo work, but really I’m just wasting time snooping around on Facebook or reading other people’s tweets about what they ate for breakfast!

(Well, if you end up writing a novel about tweeting, it will have all been worthwhile.)

Do mothers play any role in your novel?

The two main characters in my novel are female professors, but they’re not (also) mothers. The only mom we see in the book is the wife of an assistant professor.
There are, of course, plenty of professors who are moms. But it is a big challenge to do both and I hugely admire the women who pull it off (my best friend is one of them). Motherhood is a 24/7 job so to add writing lectures, grading papers, going to faculty meetings, writing journal articles etc. on top is just a very hard thing to do. It clearly involves a lot of juggling, scheduling, toughness, and support.

(Any prof. moms out there want to add anything?)

Joanne Rendell was born and raised in the UK. After completing her PhD in English Literature, she moved to the States to be with her husband, a professor at NYU. She now lives in faculty housing in New York City with her family.

I can't wait to read it, Joanne!

Random but Relevant

2009-09-08T14:52:00.002-04:00

Two things. One. I'm on the phone last night with Charter, our internet and cable company, but essentially the source of pure evil in the world. After talking to the robotic woman for a half-hour, I'm transferred to a human, in the Philippines, who hangs up on me. When I call back, I ask the robotic woman about the state of her vagina which (write this down) got me immediately transferred to an actual woman, this time in the US.

But anyway. I can't stand this company. If I were the head of this monopoly of total F-grade customer service where most of the people you talk to can't speak your language well enough to argue with you (and why would you call except to argue?), I would feel so bad. I wouldn't be able to hold my head up at the grocery store. How could you live with yourself? Sure, you'd be rich, but what good would that do you on your death bed? (Of coures the sheets would be really high thread count....)

And, yes, I'm completely over it. I LOVE using my precious time talking to Stepford Customer SATISFACTION (hahahahahaha) Technicians, and hey, what's an hour worth anyway. It's just this little birdie wake up call that reminds me what I already know. Technology is NOT bringing us closer. Sorry virtual world. You have to reach out and at least hear someone, if not see them. Moreover, it's not making life FASTER. It's making us angrier.

Which brings me to the relevant part. What kind of world do I want my children to inherit? I know, I'm getting all Michael Jackson on everyone. Sorry. But, we ARE the world. How about paying real people real money to talk to other real people whose business you value instead of getting rich on being a total TERD-whole and outsourcing to India, because frankly, every time I talk to those Indian guys now, I'm all SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE and that makes me sad. It does not make me want to buy more services. It makes me want to adopt orphans.

So, please, reach out and touch a real live person today. Do it for your children. Do it for me. Turn off your computer. Turn off your TV. The sun is shinning. Somebody's looking at you. Life isn't what we have, it's what we DO. And if you own Charter, man, oh man, I feel bad for you.

Second thing. Maybe next time. I can't remember what it is anymore.

I am a fan of myself

2009-09-04T20:17:00.002-04:00

So the other night I visited my first book club. (More to come.) I didn't know what to expect. Really. I wasn't even imagining a bunch of women in glasses with their legs primly crossed at the ankle. I literally, typically, did not have a single preconception. I think I've officially become too tired to preconceive. On account of all my conceiving, I suppose.

Anyway, I loved these women. And not just because they loved my book. But really, how could you not love a bunch of people sitting around talking about your novel like it's some kind of real book with things like "plot" and "character development." It blew my mind. And, they were funny.

And deep. The motherhood vibe was very strong in the room and I can say, without any hesitation, that I love mothers, strange though we may be in large playground settings. My people, my people, my people of poop, my people of sleeplessness, droopiness, worry and neurotic love, my people of Baby Toy minutia, of Feeding Kids Sucks, my people who do not mind seeing the word vagina on the first page. My people who are glad vagina has made it to the front page. You all make me proud.

One of Them

2009-08-31T16:33:00.004-04:00

It's a chilling moment, really. Standing there at the foot of the playground, surrounded by adorable children and endearingly engaged mothers, listening to the sounds of these otherwise normal women saying such things as, "if you do that one more time..." and "Good job! Wow!! You just slid down the slide ALL BY YOURSELF!!!!!!" And, "Johnny, sand is not for throwing. We don't want to hurt anyone. Look in mommy's eyes; see how hurting sand makes her sad. Do you want to make mommy sad? Johnny, I said look at me. Johnny, you're not listening."
Johnny is eleven months old.

Some part of me cringes to be in the thick of it, a throng of summer mothers. Surely, I don't talk like that. Surely, I don't look like that. And I take such pride in my mothering. It gives me such definition. I wouldn't want to make fun of these innocent women and their startling single-minded devotion to their exceptional slide-going offspring. (Because those first couple of slides really are worth the hundred and ten pictures you take, until you have a few more children....)

I speak in mother-tongue now. It's a language all its own. I sit on the beach and hear it all around me. Every now and then, it seems foreign again and I wonder who these strangers are. And then I realize they are me, and you really shouldn't throw sand because as we all know, sand is not for throwing, BALLS ARE FOR THROWING.

Are you looking at me?

Carleen Brice

2009-08-20T10:05:00.006-04:00

Ah, content at last. What we've all been waiting for.

I'm part of the Girlfriend's Cyber Circuit--essentially cool women who write. My "guest" today is one of those excellent ladies, Carleen Brice. So excellent in fact was her first novel, ORANGE MINT AND HONEY, that it won the 2009 First Novelist Award from the Black Caucus of the American Library Association and the 2008 Break Out Author Award at the African American Literary Awards Show. It was also optioned by Lifetime Movie Network, and no, in case you're wondering, I'm not at all envious. That would be unseemly.

Her latest release, CHILDREN OF THE WATERS, is the "story about race, love, family & identity. As someone else put it, 'issues fiction.' Two women, 1 black and 1 white, discover they are related and the story deals with how that impacts both their lives."

Here's what Carleen had to say about the book, motherhood and writing.

ME: How did you come up with the idea for this book?
CARLEEN: The idea came from a story my sister-in-law told me. She’s biracial and was given up for adoption and raised by a white family. Her birth sister, who’s also white, found her when they were adults. I wondered what would happen if she had been adopted and raised by a black family.

ME: How does motherhood appear (or not appear) in your novel?

CARLEEN: Motherhood is quite important to this story. Billie, one of the 2 protagonists is pregnant. The other protag, Trish, is looking at having an empty nest soon as her son is a teen. And both women deal with the repercussions of having lost their biological mother. Billie’s adoptive mother plays a key role. So motherhood comes up a lot.

ME: What's been your own experience of mothering? (Giving it, receiving it, etc.)
CARLEEN:I don’t have children. I had 2 miscarriages, so my experience around mothering is one of loss. My first novel Orange Mint and Honey also deals with mothering—it’s about a mother-daughter relationship. My mother was very important in my life, though we sometimes had a difficult relationship.

(Editor's note: I'm sure that hasn't happened to ANYONE else in the world.)

Here's what some other writers are saying about the book:

“I was exhausted and singing the blues the hour I began Carleen Brice’s new novel,
CHILDREN OF THE WATERS. Five hours later, I’d finished this fresh, free-rein novel about mothers’ secrets and children’s sorrows and was shouting ‘Hurray!’”
—Jacquelyn Mitchard, author of The Deep End of the Ocean

“In CHILDREN OF THE WATERS, Carleen Brice deftly explores issues of family, identity, and race with a wonderful abundance of humor, forgiveness, and grace.
This moving story of two sisters separated by prejudice will open minds and touch hearts.”
—Meg Waite Clayton, author of The Wednesday Sisters

“In CHILDREN OF THE WATERS, Carleen Brice manages to explore the difficult, messy and unpleasant details of life with both humor and wisdom. The parallel journeys of sisters, Trish and Billie, will resonate with everyone and anyone who has questioned their identity and place in this world. Once again, Carleen Brice has crafted a thoroughly enjoyable novel that gets at the heart of the human experience.”
—Lori Tharps, author of Kinky Gazpacho

She is at work on her third novel, Calling Every Good Wish Home, and she maintains the blogs “White Readers Meet Black Authors” http://www.welcomewhitefolks.blogspot.com/ and "The Pajama Gardener" http://www.pajamagardener.blogspot.com/.

Faulkner

2009-08-17T20:22:00.003-04:00

The cat is dying. I suppose that will do for gratuitous internet blog content. Drama, tragedy, and scandal are all the rage on the web. Whatever catches one's attention, a moment of voyeurism, or sympathy, I suppose.

"I don't want him to go," my son says.

Well, neither do I, not after thirteen years, my stealthy, black, anti-social ferret of a cat.

Somewhere, amidst the chaos of ordinary life with children, in its vibrancy and melodrama, its self-obsession and neurosis, a flash of the mortality of all things, the cat a skeleton with a tumor, sleeping behind the toilet.

What do we do? Set him up in the bathroom with water he won't drink and a cat box and two ratty, hair-lined cat beds. I give him rubs and hold him and wonder if he might make it because my son has kissed him and once, last year, when I accidentally uprooted (while weeding) a scarlet bean plant (gorgeous, healthy, productive), my son kissed the vine as it withered almost instantly in front of our eyes, then wouldn't you know, or would you never believe?, that plant, wilts and near-dies then (despite even a break in it's lower stalk--and of course I'd instantly replanted it in desperation), greens again. Lives.

I think of my novel, how I might be more literary, more serious, more important as a novelist if I'd killed off a few characters and encircled them with despair, melancholy, alcoholism--which always sells. But then life gives us more than we need of heartbreak. I don't think fiction needs to dream up sadness. It's a river through the landscape of every life, one way or another, and though we might like to glimpse another person's losses, laughter pulls us awake, and away, into the very fine land of perspective, where, though the cat lays dying, the baby and toddler make festive rolling over one another in paroxysms of hilarity and for a moment I recall the bold, squat face of my kitten, who my Jewish friend always said was surely a Jewish cat, and how the other month I had to pick the shit off his tail (what was he thinking?), and that he has never been a groomer or a lover of people, but that he has always liked me, and late at night will come for pats, like every other cat, or like a person, a friend, a lover, a child, to sit on your lap and be comforted for a short while.