There’s not a lot of fun involved in breastfeeding in the beginning, as I can attest as a two-time, soon to be three-time nurser….
It seemed like the great anticipation of meeting your baby was quickly dashed by the fact that he really doesn’t do anything but sleep,…
When former CMP contributor Rebecca Woolf left us to pursue other writing opportunities, we were terribly disappointed but hugely anxious to see what brilliance…
When a newly-pregnant woman asks me for advice (okay, it’s not like it happens all the time, but it does happen), I have but…
The problem with most gift baskets is you don’t always like everything inside. (Unless it happens to be the chocolate assortment that my sister-in-law…
I’m a sucker for the hilarious questions kids ask–who isn’t?– particularly if I’m not the one who has to answer them all. Which is why I haven’t put down the absolutely engaging new book, Father Knows Less, Or "Why Can’t I Cook My Sister?": One Dad’s Quest To Answer His Son’s Most Baffling Questions.
The idea of "going green" sounds fantastic in theory, but trading up to a Prius and installing solar panels on my house is not in my near future. But thanks to The Green Book, I’ve learned that saving the planet is easier than I thought.
When I first cracked the cover of The Newly Non-Drinking Girl’s Guide to Pregnancy: Advice and Support for Surviving 40 Weeks without a Cosmopolitan I was wary. "Surviving" without a Cosmopolitan? Isn’t that overstating the case a wee bit?
I’m not sure what it is about the tie that makes us grab them in desperation for Father’s Day gifts. Me included. But this year, I urge you to return it–it’s not too late!–and instead check out the plethora of appropriate hipster dad gifts at McSweeney’s Store, the online shop of Dave Egger’s hilarious literary journal.
When I cracked open a review copy of The Complete Book of Baby Names by Leslie Bolton in search for a name for my yet unnamed fetus, I was expecting the same old same old.
With my daughter’s third birthday rapidly approaching, I’m already in party planning mode. While she’s got definite opinions about her cake and party theme, the party favor bags are my territory.
After I peed on the stick and saw those two pink lines, I did what a lot of newly-pregnant women do: I took 157 books off the bookstore shelves, sat myself down and tried to find just one one that echoed my feelings and thoughts about pregnancy. But most just made me want to run screaming–right to the café, to eat my weight in chocolate.
We all love swapping war stories with another mom friend: You share your potty training adventures, she describes her toddler’s attempts to escape from the crib. By conversation’s end you’re laughing, crying, and grateful for the venting tha
I have developed a wee bit of cynicism about the recent spate of irreverent momoirs and advice books out there for parents. The vast majority have terrific titles…and that’s pretty much where you’ll want to stop reading. So I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when I heard about Peeing in Peace: Tales and Tips for Type A Moms.
Despite continued reassurance that we only serve delicious meals at our house, my older daughter stubbornly resists trying new foods. The tears, tantrums and intense negotiation are exhausting. For once, I’d like to sit down to a meal without ever uttering the words "…or you can go straight to bed."
Nothing can prepare a first-time pregnant friend for the ordeal that is maternity shopping. Except for maybe you. That is, if you have it in you to dash her expectations that she’ll look adooooorable in those chic low-rise jeans for the entire nine months.
I’m all for books that teach my kids more than just their animals. I mean, cripes, if we have to take the time to read it to them 500 times, it might as well teach them other things too, right? Like how to make their own breakfast, mow the lawn, or even better, make me a cocktail.
New moms will agree that new mom advice is easy to come by. For example, there’s your mother-in-law and her stories about brandy in the baby bottle, or your childless cousin who’s quick to tell you about the evils of television watching. What’s hard to come by, however, is good advice.
As a mama-to-be once again, I am suddenly remembering how absolutely every concern about childbirth and beyond is magnified by sixteen million. It’s not inconceivable that you experience as much anxiety over picking the right pacifier as you do picking the right pediatrician.
When a recent trip left me pondering The Complete Works of Shakespeare versus How to Fix The Kitchen Sink as potential beach reads, I realized I had a problem. The shelves in my home library are overflowing with nonfiction and kids’ books, but the fictional reading selections are positively uninspiring.