It’s been a hard week for women that blog. Earlier this week, The Wall Street Journal took it upon themselves to not only lump in all women that write online as mom bloggers (they all have a uterus right?), but to label the conferences and business trips that women bloggers go on as the “Mommy Business Trip.” The type of trip stay-at-home moms book just so they can get the hell out of dodge and, finally, leave their children and partners behind. Otherwise, you can find them cleaning, cooking and generally slowly dying of the Feminist Mystique. Katherine Stone, a friend, ultimate professional and the voice behind Postpartum Progress, felt compelled to apologize for the way she was portrayed and, by extension, all parents that blog. I can understand
motherhood Archive
Dear Little Assholes: I know it must be really hard to be eight and twelve-year-old girls today. So hard, in fact, that you find it necessary to be little assholes. I know you had the best of manipulative intentions when you screamed “I hate you” to my daughter who is definitely not an asshole. She was the one that wrote the nice letter after you and your asshole sister bombarded her with three of your own demanding that if she didn’t let you in our house then you could no longer be “friends.” Which forced me to be a grown up and spell out M-A-N-I-P-U-L-A-T-I-O-N and then define it to a soon-to-be ten-year-old. That definition amounted to: when a person tries to make you feel
A few days short of ten years ago, I met my daughter in our own little snow globe. We arrived as the first snowflakes began to fall during the blizzard of 2003 and left with two feet of snow piled on top of our car and a baby in a carrier. I still remember her tiny fleece leopard hat and her eyes that could barely stay open. My baby now has hands bigger than mine and, in a few short months, she’ll probably be taller than me too. I love snow and have missed it terribly. For almost two years, Philadelphia has only seen a dusting. I’ve been up all night working and glancing out the window watching as the streets remain quiet and the white sparkles
I’m about to get a massive content dump out. Get ready to light a match. Last week marked the 40th anniversary of Roe v. Wade. Some people think once women become mothers, they can’t fathom having an abortion. Here’s what I think about that: Abortion never comes up at the playground or the parent pick-up line. Mothers, it’s true, rarely, if ever, talk about abortion. We barely talk about miscarriages, either, except to say we’ve had them and then offer each other apologies and sympathy. But we know who has had them. Abortion? I told only my closest friends and I went by myself to face the gruesome, inaccurate and inflammatory signs held by protesters attempting to lure me away from the door as if
I have spent 12 years with Slasher. In all of those years we have never started a new year by talking about goals; especially financial ones. Never, nadda, not once. Every time a crisis hit, I would say it’s going to get better and here’s what we should do and when it rained he would sketch loose plans for an umbrella. Mainly the two of us never worked together. Instead I was his competition and he was a pain in my ass. We were so young; learning as we went and doing an absolutely abysmal job. We had very shitty examples of how to navigate parenting, a relationship, finances and being grown ups way before we were, in fact, grown up. That’s not an excuse, it’s just
How was your day? I hope it was fabulous. Now, let’s talk about abortion. Here’s what I know to be true: 100% of men will never be pregnant. Why then do some insist on assuming that they will? That they can stand up with microphones in their face and unequivocally state, for the record, that “absolutely” there is never a medical instance when abortions save lives. I’m talking about Joe Walsh, the Tea Party backed Congressman from Illinois. After a debate last night with his opponent, he was asked to clarify his views on abortion. Here is how that went down: Asked by reporters after the debate if he was saying that it’s never medically necessary to conduct an abortion to save the life of a mother,
On Sunday nights, I indulge myself in bad reality programming. Most of my TV watching, when I do get a moment, is all about the election. Up until tonight, I was content to sit here and enjoy the problems of other people. And then it wasn’t okay anymore. Because it hit too close to home: the petty bickering, the insignificant slights and finding all the ways we can to hurt one another. I should add “women” in there. All the ways we, as women, try to hurt one another. It’s sickening. Real Housewives is tame compared to the lowest common denominator broads on VH1. I do not watch that shit, ever. I don’t care for B-Ball Wives and Mafiosos; thrown punches and pulled-out weaves, red