I have an essay coming out in the new Mothers Who Think collection about how I love my husband more than my children. I know I’m going to get grief for that, even though the editors wisely discouraged from putting in a line about how I love my husband so much that I would toss […]

it’s the inhale before worship begins.
we line up in the hall,
Bible-bearer, acolyte, and two women
in robes and stoles.
breathless latecomers slide in before us
(that way they’re still on time);
piano prelude drifts through doors
thrown open.
and then
the scritch of a match,
and flame kisses wick
of a long, glimmering…
what’s-it-called?
acolyte thingy.
and then, two clanging bells
announce us:
we walk in, and it always […]

Friday Mom’s lovely meditation on parenthood and truth-telling got me spinning off into thinking about mommy guilt. There’s got to be safe space for good-enough mothers to vent and gripe without being judged or lambasted for whining. Judith Warner’s book Perfect Madness spoke to a lot of women, including me, about the insanity of this […]

—
too many donuts.
where did my youthful butt go?
damn you, cellulite.
—
your molars peek through,
you push all my buttons—you’re
definitely two.
—

My child is going to discover snow today–with her child-care provider.