I've recently been published in Hip Mama #45. In fact, if you look closely, you'll see I made the cover ("Child Rearing Lessons from the Frat House")! Since Hip Mama was the original breakout indie mama zine, I've always wanted to be published within its prestigious pages, and now I've succeeded. I actually cried a little when my issue arrived and I saw I got a cover blurb.
I've also been included in the new Mamaphiles! This is #4, and it's called Raising Hell. In case you didn't know, Mamaphiles is a collaborative effort of the superstars of mama zinehood. Oh, yeah... they let some daddy zinesters in now. Anyway, believe me when I say it's a BIG DEAL and an honor to be included in the project.
I don't have any copies printed yet, so you can order it for now here or here.
When I get back from Japan, I'll have some printed up and you can purchase it through me.
As if ALL THAT weren't exciting enough, I'm going to be doing a reading in my beloved city of Chelan at the historic Ruby Theater on February 24th. The event will be put on by Write on the River, and it's FREE. Check out the deets!
So, yeah. I'm pretty much a rockstar these days. Somehow, I still remember to come back and write for you good people...
I did that today. With Mr. Wright out of town and the kidlings safely deposited in institutions of glorious education, I slipped into a new-ish Pan Asian restaurant for lunch. Alone.
I actually rather enjoy dining alone, once I get past the hostess who, invariably, says, "Just one?" I often answer - in song, "Not JUST one... I'm ONE! SINGULAR SENSATION! Every little move I make!" It tends to be an embarrassing spectacle for everyone involved, except, of course, me.
Anyway, the staff at the restaurant actually had to pull a larger table apart to make a small table for lonely little me. About five minutes after I was seated, a waiter approached and said, "I'm bringing you some neighbors. You don't mind?" I was so engrossed in my book, I barely noticed as he pulled the adjacent table a little further away, putting a bit more distance between my table and its separated twin.
Guess who sat down? Two ladies! Two MAMA-ladies! They asked what I was having, and ordered the same thing. We talked about kids' sports, about adoption, about mama stuff. We all finished at about the same time, and I was pleasantly surprised when one of the mamas wrote down her name and email address, and asked me to keep in touch. She said, "Isn't it great when you go in for lunch, and come out with a new friend?"
Amen, Sister.
Thank you, Pan-Asian-Lunch-Place-Mamas... You made my day!
A couple of weeks ago, Mr. Wright and I attended a Washington Policy Center dinner in Seattle. I'll save the "boring" political commentary that went along with this event for Citizen Gonzo, but here's the photo:
That's economist Stephen Moore, my Hottie McHotness self, that handsome devil we call Mr. Wright, and Ben Stein.
Motherhood does something strange to the female psyche. Somehow, the journey into the empowering and bewildering mother world produces a physiological need to share stories.
Even before giving birth to my son, I saw the warning signs. I watched mothers speak of their children’s day-to-day activities as if their progeny were the first to ever crawl, kick a ball, utter monosyllabic nonsense or “make a stinky.” Ridiculous!
“I, for one, will never carry on that way,” I vowed. Naturally, I had to eat those words mere hours after Pockets was born. I can’t explain it. There is a biological need to share stories of birth, child-rearing and mothering with other mothers.
Perhaps it’s a type of congenital disease that courses through every human female, waiting for the commencement of motherhood to flare up. Like me, most don’t even know they are carriers until they find themselves discussing a single messy diaper at length with complete strangers.
The phenomenon is not limited to biological mothers. Adoptive moms, too, experience the compulsion to share their stories about every aspect of their parenting journeys. Given the opportunity, we will share every intricate detail about how long our adoptions took, the necessary but frustrating navigations of “the system,” what our fears are about raising children whose medical histories we may not know, and what led us to chose adoption. When we’re done, we’ll tell you about our child’s first tooth, first day of school, and how amazing our child is.
Whether bragging about our kids or commiserating about the trials of parenting, mommies needn’t look further than the busy mom next door or the woman bouncing a toddler on her hip at the bus stop. I’ve struck up conversations about potty training, naps, teething, schooling and teenagers with women on the subway in Washington, D.C., on airplanes and in public restrooms.
Of course, it is widely known that I have no shame.
Nonetheless, I find mothers are largely receptive to unsolicited conversations about parenting. I’ve only been threatened with one restraining order in my 15 years of verbally violating strangers’ personal spaces.
Believe it or not, motherhood can be lonely. Some mothers feel they are unique in their fears or struggles or worry that they “aren’t doing it right.” The compulsion to connect with other moms and share our stories is an important one, and it shouldn’t be ignored. Sharing exposes us to different points of view on the very issues we are dealing with and reminds us that we aren’t so alone – other moms have lived through difficult situations, worried about their children and made mistakes in parenting.
Just last week, I felt like a candidate for Worst Mother Ever when I hit the drive-thru at Taco Bell to buy cheese roll-ups for my two toddlers before dropping them off at daycare at 9:30 a.m. I called it “brunch.”
I was feeling guilty and said as much on my Facebook and Twitter updates. I received a flood of messages from other moms in response, assuring me that I hadn’t even made the playoffs for the title of Worst Mother Ever and sharing their own less-than-glamorous parenting moments. One mom told me that she’s often running late in the morning and takes her son through Jack in the Box for deep-fried chicken strips, then parks down the street from the school until he finishes them, so other parents don’t see what he’s eating for “breakfast.” Another admitted that she fed her daughter and the daughter’s friend cake with extra frosting when she realized there was nothing suitable for lunch in the pantry. “Think the other mom will mind?” she asked.
Don’t be shy, my mama-sisters! When you see a mom struggling to keep her brood in line at the grocery store, regale her with your story about how your baby cried nonstop on a six-hour flight. She’ll appreciate it.
My readers have some of the greatest blogs in the blogosphere, in my opinion. I'm always on the lookout for more quality reads for my crowded Google Reader, though, and I've discovered a sure-fire way to connect with more talented bloggers.
The super-cool author of Ann Again... and Again hosts the Virtual Girls' Night Out every Friday. Just go to the VGNO post, click on the Mr. Linky to sign up, and start the blog-hopping and commenting goodness!
I've added so many new blogs to my Reader that I may have to hire a driver, a nanny and a chef to free up my time to read them all, but I'm loving every minute!
