I believe in microbes. Microbes are like God. You can’t hear them, taste them, smell them or see them with the naked eye. But you know they’re there. Lately, I’ve had more experiences with microbes than with God. I’ve been sick a lot. Read more.
My Ever-Changing Family
Meet my changing, shrinking, growing family. Here you'll find stories of married life, little kids, grown-up kids, the empty nest, cousins and ancestors, aging parents, and the view from the second half of life.
Feng Shui Tip for the Writing Room and the Bedroom — Your Mother’s Not Allowed, and Neither Are the Kids
There are no photos in my my writing room. No kids, no parents, no family. Pictures of my parents have the worst effect on me when I’m trying to write. “When are you going to get a real job, Barb?” they shout from their frames as I enter the workroom. Peering over my shoulder, they pass judgment on me and my thoughts, “You’re writing about that? Shame on you.”
Help! My Kids Aren’t Perfect After All
The kids were still pre-schoolers at the time, and it had been another night of sleep deprivation for me. “Tell me it gets easier,” I said to my friend Nancy. “Well, actually it gets harder,” she replied. Nancy has a daughter three years older than Peter. She keeps me briefed on the parenting realities ahead. Read more.
Do Books Have Rights? This One Didn’t. I Threw It in the Trash.
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Into the trash with this adorable mousey book! Photo by BF. Newhall[/caption]
Into the trash with this adorable mousey book! Photo by BF. Newhall[/caption]
It was a book, a children’s book. But I dumped it in the garbage anyway. I threw it out the way I would toss out a dead flashlight battery or a slab of moldy cheddar. Read more.
Scrubbing the Floor With My Daughter Cinderella
There was no getting around it. Christina, who is 51/2, intended to wash our kitchen floor. She had been studying her “Cinderella” videotape for weeks, and now she wanted nothing more than to scrub. Read more
A Case of the Human Condition: He Never Called Me Back . . . Why?
The book’s cover was fuchsia, its title blunt: “Why He Didn’t Call You Back.” Just what I needed years ago when I was young and single and wondering why so many guys would take me out once or twice — then disappear without explanation. Gone. Evaporated. Poof. Read more.
Why Can’t a Dad Be More Like a Mom? . . . Do We Really Want Them To Be?
My friend Carol calls them “the little inequities.” She is talking about the small, countless ways that men fail to notice what needs to be done for their children. Read more.