I’m a child in my sunny Florida backyard, devouring a popsicle, as the sweet red juice melts down my chin onto my one-piece swimsuit. I don’t have a care in the world. If I get hot, I’ll jump in the pool. If I want a playmate, I’ll run to the neighbors’ house.
Life used to be simple, right?
I measure my daughter’s childhood against that happy memory. Every moment she’s not eating a popsicle in a swimsuit, I’ve failed her. (I fail her a lot.)
I know that image is bullshit. I mean, it’s real. It happened. And it was…
Children’s books have the power to change the world.
As a Parent Education college instructor who leads storytimes for babies, toddlers, and preschoolers, I often get asked for children’s book recommendations.
Specifically, parents want book recommendations about kindness, empathy, sharing, and how to talk with young children about hard topics like race. And parents want to know, “How do I get my kids to love books?”
I’ve written before about the benefits of reading to kids and how to make books a bigger part of your lives. …
We aim for equality every day: equal time working, equal time parenting. Time together. Time apart.
But today it felt like I was holding the world together by myself.
I’m trying to tell him how hard it was, looking for appreciation, looking for a promise that he’ll help me get more me time tomorrow.
He’s not hearing me: He’s defending. He’s explaining. He’s excusing. He’s rationalizing.
I take a deep breath, measure my words, make sure this comes out as an “I statement”:
“I feel unappreciated and alone.”
“Well, you’re choosing to feel those things.”
Clearly, we need some help…
“Sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough for you,” my husband says, “because I’m just a man.”
“You know I’m happy with monogamy,” I tell him. “You’re enough. You’re the person I chose.”
“But how can I be enough?” We’re spooning under the covers.
“With me, you can’t do everything.”
“Who needs to do everything?”
“I want to do everything.”
“Well, not everything,” I say, pulling his hand to my lips and nibbling his fingers.
“I want to do everything with you.”
I’m pansexual: I’m sexually attracted to people of all sexes and genders. Sometimes I use the word…
A few years back, I read a children’s book about the moon landing to my then-3-year-old daughter. It’s a great book in so many ways. But one thing stood out to me: Men.
Men, men, men. The word men over and over, in glowing terms, and nowhere a mention of anybody else.
The book, Moonshot: The Flight of Apollo 11, written and illustrated by Brian Floca, is a gorgeous, informative read, made to inspire another generation of stargazers. Unlike many dry books on the topic, this one has a gripping narrative. It managed to keep even my 3-year-old engaged.
I’m losing sleep over rockets and airstrikes and war crimes in Israel and Palestine. And also about the widespread mentality that this is a story where one ethnicity is a hero and another is a villain.
Today I breathed a small sigh of relief to see The New York Times’ morning newsletter acknowledge the situation in Israel/Palestine without the short-sighted, one-sided meme format I’ve seen most everywhere else. Before laying out some of the basics of the Israel/Palestine sitch, Times writer David Leonhardt wrote,
“I recognize that some readers are deeply versed in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, with strong views about…
It’s time for Black History Month 2021! Let’s aim to teach and celebrate Black history every month, but February is a great reminder to check in.
I read a lot of children’s picture books, because I’m the mom of a 6-year-old, and because I lead weekly storytimes for kids 0–6. Also, I just love children’s books.
Books are inspiration, education, and often conversation starters. It’s tough to talk to little kids about the hard parts of history; like slavery, Jim Crow, and ongoing racism. It’s so tough that many parents attempt to avoid those conversations altogether. …
“But just remember this, you’re stronger, you’re smarter. You’ve got more going than anybody and they try and demean everybody having to do with us and you’re the real people. You’re the people that built this nation.”
That’s a snippet from Donald Trump’s Insurrection Day speech that I haven’t seen others talking about. I mean, yeah, he says harmful stuff all the time, including lots of other impeachable stuff in that particular January 6 speech outside the U.S. Capitol, so it’s hard to let any one line stand out.
“You’re the real people.”
But to me, “You’re the real people”…
Lately, I’m saying, “I love you,” a lot. To my husband, yes, and my daughter of course. But also to friends, including people I’ve never said it to before.
Technically, I’m saying “I love you” to my germ-covered laptop screen, hoping the connection is clear enough for my words to reach you. And I’m pounding it out with my thumbs, wondering why it’s 2020, and my phone’s autocorrect still won’t change “I love tou” to “I love you.”
We are social beings, desperately desiring to love and to be loved. Through social distancing and stay-at-home orders, so many of the…
My husband won’t talk to me anymore about the coronavirus.
“The news isn’t good for my mental health,” he says. And while that statement reminds me of the media fasts people attempted after Trump got elected — and the privilege involved in that willful ignorance — in this case, he’s not hurting anybody.
We’re under a Stay-at-Home order in Washington State, for another month at least. We’re already fully on board with #StayHome, so why do we need to keep up with case counts and mask efficacy statistics?
“Why stress ourselves out more?” he asks, as I wonder aloud if…