Was My Mother a 1950s Tradwife?
My mother was a tradwife, a bona fide 1950s tradwife. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she got. Read more.
Instead of My Toys, They Played With Peanut Shells
Instead of playing with my toys, the visiting grandchildren played with a bag of peanut shells — and made tiny peanut people. Read more.
Sexy at Any Age — Tips From My 98-Year-Old Aunt Grace
Some of the best advice I got from my role model aunt was how to be sexy at any age. Read more.
A Woman Can’t Be Too Rich, Too Thin or Have Too Many Toys Stored in Her Basement
A woman can’t be too rich, too thin or have too many toys in her basement — if the grandkids are coming. Read more.
Was I a Tradwife in the 1980s? Or a Liberated Woman in Progress?
Was I a tradwife back in the 1980s? Or was I a second-wave feminist still figuring out how to make the marriage-family-career thing work? Read more.
What to Do With Those Battered Old Baby Shoes? Hide Them in a Wall, of Course
Those battered old baby shoes? Hide them in a wall. It’s centuries old tradition that lets you declutter without giving up your dear old stuff. Read more.
My Mother’s Writing Desk Is Not My Writing Desk. Here’s Why
Being in the same room with my mother’s writing desk is like being in the same room with my mother, which is why her desk isn’t in my writing room. Read more.
Kids Leave Home. They Just Do
Kids leave home. That’s how it often is in our oversized, mobile nation. We pack up and move across the country with impunity, leaving our families and origins behind. Read more.
My Son Is in the Hospital With Appendicitis 2,000 Miles Away. How Do I Mother Him From Here?
My son Is in the hospital with appendicitis 2,000 miles away. He’s 28 years old and living on his own. How do I mother him from here?
The Art of Rhetoric — If a Two-Year-Old Can Master It, So Can You
Even my toddler knew how to ply the art of rhetoric. It’s something we humans use every day, on each other, starting at an early age. Read more.