The Meaning of “Mother”

I know it’s Mother’s Day but I wanted to share this picture of my kids and their father because he does so much of what we see often think of as “mothering” – the care and feeding of others. In his case, it’s the lion’s share of the childcare, as it evolved from infant and toddler care to adolescent care and (the hardest) teenage care, all of the cooking and the laundry and most of the errands. I know he is not the only one.
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Is Cleaning Up Women’s Work?

This post appeared in Role Reboot.

The second woman to occupy 10 Downing Street offered to step down if Parliament passed her latest Brexit plan. Though lawmakers rejected it, Theresa May’s apparent “sweetener” marks the latest instance of female executives rising to power in times of crisis only to shoulder the blame for that crisis itself. The pattern is all too clear.

Continue reading Is Cleaning Up Women’s Work?

Stelly

We lost our beloved Estelle Lana Pastarnack – Stelly or Nana to many – on July 6, 2016.IMG_0889

She was an outspoken and strong woman who loved red lipstick that left a telltale mark when she kissed your cheek. She loved designer shoes – especially if they were discounted at Loehmanns. She adored “making parties” and fur coats. She also could not resist a good hot dog, no matter what diet she was on.

Most of all she loved her four children, ten grandchildren, four great grandchildren, her nieces and nephews and her friends.
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The Long View of Working Parenthood

Last week I had the fortune of being interviewed by Dr. Portia Jackson of workingmotherhood.com for her podcast.  We  had a lot of fun talking about challenges and successes.  I talked about treating each child as an individual, which can be a challenge with twins.  (This article in Time about twins and gifted programs resonated with me as we submit our applications for public middle school this week – yes, applications because we have no zoned school.) Continue reading The Long View of Working Parenthood

Abigail and Her Sisters

We all tend to read our own lives through the biographies of others.  We judge their challenges, successes and failures through the prism of our own.  So when I came to Diane Jacobs  “Dear Abigail: The Intimate Lives and Revolutionary Ideas of Abigail Adams and Her Two Remarkable Sisters,” published this spring, I took a very personal approach. Continue reading Abigail and Her Sisters

Best Intentions

I was going to write an essay about my mother, pinned to this greeting card and flower company holiday, Mother’s Day.  It was going to be effusive but witty; long but concise.  It would be featured on some popular website and be shared many times. It would explain how my mother, who birthed and raised six kids, gave us her unconditional love and devotion, yet somehow could never be accurately characterized as a Tiger Mom or a helicopter parent.  How I grew up to look nothing like her on the outside but so much like her on the inside.  How her parenting model is one to which I will always aspire and how, despite being so actively involved in my kids’ lives, the only parenting advice she ever gave me was, “Every child is different.”

And how the ultimate measure of her parenting success may not be the success of her six children measured in predictable ways, but that, as adults, we all want to live near her.  And how each of us talks to her virtually every day – some of us multiple times – not because we think we have to, but because we want to.

But… when I sat down to write this essay a few times over the past few days before or after work, my youngest child would have none of it.  “Read to me mommy.”  And, “Can I have some milk?”  And then one of the older ones.  “I need new sandals.  My old ones are too small.”  And, “Should we give away some of the old stuff to make room?”  And of course the ice skating – the freestyle session and the tots class.  So the essay did not get written before Mother’s Day morning like I wanted because I poured the milk and I read ‘The Little Red Lighthouse” and got new sandals and filled up the charity bags and shivered in the rink while I waved to my kid skating by.  And decided not to worry about it too much.  That is how my mom would want it.

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At my wedding in 2001