Essays

For now, we remain a collective hodgepodge of mother writers meeting late at night, or sometimes early in the morning. Stealing hours, sometimes under covers, sometimes in our basements, in…

I have always been an ambitious person—excelling at school, succeeding at my career—but raising children did not provide the feeling of achievement that came with reaching other goals. Childrearing felt…

Somehow, for all my best efforts, I wasn’t raising a daughter who loved to read. Nevertheless, I was deeply grateful she felt safe enough to speak her mind. Secure, she…

I. Love. My. Job. I am one of those lucky people who can say, sincerely, that I’m doing what I came into this world to do. I would—and do—teach classes…

As soon as my son and I started a book club several years ago, I realized it was an opportunity to draw the boys inside this euphoric feeling, to build…

It was just a game, really. The kids would get bored if I took too long at this. I could see the center; I knew where I was headed. And…

Would he like all of the books I picked out? Would he see the collection as a gift or a burden? Knowing that I could not control his reactions, I…

It has taken me a disgracefully long time to absorb an obvious lesson: The common denominator in parenting wisely and writing well is the ability to listen—wholeheartedly, single-mindedly, emptied of…

Mayer, too, suffered from angst. But what’s refreshing, even radical, for twenty-first century mothers who have been pitted against each other and against every false ideal of motherhood, is this:…

I’m trying to open a window into my soul, to show how it feels to know that this activity of nursing my daughter is also an activity of becoming more…

I have been full of my own concerns; I haven’t listened when she said, “There is something in me that I want to get down on paper. There is something…