My mother was a tradwife, a bona fide 1950s tradwife. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she got. Read more.
My Ever-Changing Family
Our family shrinks and grows. People die. People get born. People get mad and won't talk to you for a while. Kids grow up and find partners of their own, and pretty soon there are brand-new in-laws. And a grandchild or two.
Instead of My Toys, They Played With Peanut Shells
Instead of playing with my toys, the visiting grandchildren played with a bag of peanut shells — and made tiny peanut people. Read more.
Sexy at Any Age — Tips From My 98-Year-Old Aunt Grace
Some of the best advice I got from my role model aunt was how to be sexy at any age. Read more.
A Woman Can’t Be Too Rich, Too Thin or Have Too Many Toys Stored in Her Basement
A woman can’t be too rich, too thin or have too many toys in her basement — if the grandkids are coming. Read more.
Was I a Tradwife in the 1980s? Or a Liberated Woman in Progress?
Was I a tradwife back in the 1980s? Or was I a second-wave feminist still figuring out how to make the marriage-family-career thing work? Read more.
What to Do With Those Battered Old Baby Shoes? Hide Them in a Wall, of Course
Those battered old baby shoes? Hide them in a wall. It’s centuries old tradition that lets you declutter without giving up your dear old stuff. Read more.
My Mother’s Writing Desk Is Not My Writing Desk. Here’s Why
Being in the same room with my mother’s writing desk is like being in the same room with my mother, which is why her desk isn’t in my writing room. Read more.