This Mom’s Life

Mom, wife, and writer — against all odds.


Threats, Lies, and Bribes

Parenting for the new millennium


It was bedtime, and our four-year-old son, Master M., was imploding. This was a seriously exhausted kid…


I Look at Houses the Way Some Men Look at Cars


Lately, as I drive around, I find myself peering out the windows at houses. In my mind, I’m practically moving myself into other people’s…


I Share, Therefore I Am

What does sharing mean in the age of social media? 


Last weekend, we brought another family with us on a weekend away. They, too, have a…


To Gray or Not to Gray: The Problem With Hair Dye 

Should a Modern Mom Look as Old and Haggard as She Feels?


Letter to a Young Son


Dear Rabbit,*

Someday you will read this. And I know you told me the other day that I wasn’t allowed to write about you anymore, but I just couldn’t…


Turn the Music Up (On the Art of Letting Go) 


When I’m driving my son hither and yon, he and I often talk. Usually I leave the radio off (despite sometimes dying to hear some news from…


A Spider in the Bed (During the Boston Manhunt)


Last Friday night, as the country was transfixed by the manhunt going on in Boston, Dan and I found ourselves ripping apart Master M.’s…


After Boston: Playing Safety Roulette With My Family


Yesterday, before the news breaks, I am cooking dinner — black beans soaked overnight and then cooked all morning, served with rice…


It’s Reality Writing, Baby


When I first heard about Medium, I was a little doubtful. An online self-publishing platform for long-form writing from the creators of Twitter? What the hell are…


Why You Won’t See My Child (Or Even His Name) On Facebook


A few hours after our son was born in January of 2009, requests for photos on Facebook started to come our way: Friends who…


Of Sons and Voles


Last week, on the way to preschool, as my son, Master M., and I dipped and scaled the hills of our daily route, we came upon — just past an old farm that specializes in…


O Maple Tree, O Maple Tree


When I was a little girl growing up in the big woods of Maine, around this time every year my family and I would tap the maple trees on our sixty acres of woods…


How to Tell Your Kids “Mom’s on The Job”—And Mean It 












Within hours of my first column appearing on Medium — it was about the largely unregulated chemical industry replacing…


In the Wake of Sandy Hook: How Do We Trust Our Schools? 


Just under a year ago, my husband, Dan, and I started looking at preschools for our three-year-old son. We visited several to…


Autocorrecting My iMarriage


On Boxing Day — that drugged-tired twenty-four-hour period after Christmas, when most of us want to do little more than nibble leftover figgy pudding — my husband…


Table Talk


At the end of the day, when my four-year-old son is finally sleeping, I slide out of his bed, tiptoe to turn off the three flashlights he’s propped on his bedside table to stave off…


One Mom, Eighty Thousand Chemicals


Last summer, I was writing a story on big agriculture. In the circuitous way reporting goes, I ended up on the phone with Bruce Blumberg, a scientist at…

This Mom’s Life
This Mom’s Life

Mom, wife, and writer — against all odds.

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