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pattydsf's review against another edition
3.0
I started this book on audio and it was excellent. However, I can read faster than I can listen and I felt like my listening time would be better spent on another book.
I thought this book had some interesting insights into parenting now. I am actually grateful (having read this) that the Internet was not as important when Bill and I were rearing our children. Of course, Waldman is rearing her children in Berkeley CA, which is a far cry from Ashland in many, many ways.
I enjoy hearing about other people's lives. I think Waldman would define me as nosy not a snoop. So that aspect of the book was interesting to me. Overall I am glad I read this even though I found some other books about motherhood to be more insightful.
I am curious about how this book will go over in our book group. It could be well received or it could become part of the Mommy wars. Hard to tell.
I thought this book had some interesting insights into parenting now. I am actually grateful (having read this) that the Internet was not as important when Bill and I were rearing our children. Of course, Waldman is rearing her children in Berkeley CA, which is a far cry from Ashland in many, many ways.
I enjoy hearing about other people's lives. I think Waldman would define me as nosy not a snoop. So that aspect of the book was interesting to me. Overall I am glad I read this even though I found some other books about motherhood to be more insightful.
I am curious about how this book will go over in our book group. It could be well received or it could become part of the Mommy wars. Hard to tell.
shelvesofsecrets's review against another edition
2.0
Not what I was expecting. I thought this book would be funny, but it was much more judge-y instead.
Although the Rocketship chapter did make me cry and I appreciate the author's openness regarding mental illness. However, too much political rhetoric, complaining and blaming things on her childhood/mother made the book unenjoyable overall.
Although the Rocketship chapter did make me cry and I appreciate the author's openness regarding mental illness. However, too much political rhetoric, complaining and blaming things on her childhood/mother made the book unenjoyable overall.
arielml's review against another edition
4.0
This was a brave and very open book. Waldman writes about the most personal parts of her life, from her abortion to her bipolar disorder. There's a lot here to comfort anyone who has shared some of the same struggles. The writing is generally accessible and funny, too, although it does occasionally fall flat (she way overused the "After all, I live in _Berkeley_" line, for example).
jenniferdenslow's review against another edition
3.0
I've long been a fan of Waldman's "mommy track" mysteries, but this is in a completely different vein. A collection of essay about motherhood, Waldman tackles topics with wit and insight ranging from relationships with in-laws to choosing abortion.
marie_gg's review against another edition
5.0
So many things about Ayelet Waldman's book of essays rang true for me. I loved this book.
She organizes it into 18 chapters, 18 being a significant number in the Jewish faith. Each chapter tackles a different topic related to her experience of motherhood.
Waldman was a lightning rod on the internet a few years ago, when she published an essay saying that she loved her husband more than her children. She went on to say that if one of her children were to die, she would survive somehow, but it would be vastly more difficult to survive her husband's death.
Frankly, I don't even want to consider such questions, which reflects my tendency to avoid thinking of such potentially difficult subjects. But is it really so horrible to say that she loves her husband more than her children? After all, he came first. I remember, growing up, that my parents' relationship was primary in our family. They always made the time to go out on dates and spend time alone. It was their opportunity for recharging. This never upset me (except on a few occasions when we were left over the weekend with people we didn't know very well).
Ayelet Waldman was raked over the coals and pilloried on the internet for making such a statement. She was called a "bad mother," both literally and by suggestion. This experience, along with her realization that women are apt to label each other such, prompted her to write this book.
Here's what resonated with me:
Chapter 1: Waldman's admitted sanctimony before she had children...when she saw a woman speaking harshly to her woman on a Muni train...and she informed the woman that everyone was watching her. She then goes on to talk about how readily we label women as "bad mothers," while all a man has to do to be called a "good father" is to simply show up and be present. Rarely are men labeled as "bad fathers" unless they have abandoned their families or are drug addicts or criminals. The standards are completely different for men and women. There are no "daddy wars."
Chapter 2: She describes the moment when she first met her husband, writer Michael Chabon, on a blind date. He came to her door, and even though as a cynical soul she didn't believe in love at first sight, when she saw him, she knew he would be her soul mate. She uses the Yiddish term--bashert--the one that God, or fate, meant for you.
"The legend associated with this word says that before you are born, an angel appears to the soul of your infant self and takes you on a tour of your life. You visit your future, or a version of your future. One of the things the angel shows you is the person whose soul is a match for yours. The person with whom you are meant to share your life. Then the angel strikes you beneath your nose, leaving that subtle channel in the skin between the nose and the mouth, your philtrum. The blow causes you to forget what you have seen. But there remains a vestige of memory, an unconscious sense of what you saw and learned. Enough of a memory to evoke a jolt of recognition when you stumble across your bashert..."
I love this description, because it describes so well how I felt about my own Michael when I first met him and began getting to know him...as if we had been destined to meet and join together.
I also enjoyed Waldman's description of how she multi-tasked while breast pumping...that was me, for so many months and years of my life! Fortunately I didn't have to deal with young men barging in on me to sneak a peek at my breasts, as Waldman did in her law office.
Chapter 3: Waldman devotes a chapter to her (and her husband's) growing up to "Free to Be You and Me." And here is my only criticism of the book. She claims that "Free to Be You and Me" is faulty grammar, and actually titles the chapter "Free to Be You and I," which she claims is correct. I beg to differ: "Free to Be You and Me" is correct. The grammatical error in that song is "And you and me are free to be you and me," which should be "And you and I are free to be you and me."
But anyway...I loved the descriptions of that wonderful book, record, and TV program, which was the backdrop of my own childhood. I too could recite "Ladies First" by heart. I remember my sister saving up all her money to purchase a copy of the record for our beloved teacher, Mr. Sposito (I had him in 3rd grade and she had him in 2nd), when we invited him over to dinner--one of the highlights of our childhood!
When I had my own children, I sought out and purchased the video for them. Even if my husband didn't grow up on "Free to Be You and Me," he could have, given his full commitment to being an equal partner in our marriage and parenting.
Chapter 9: She writes of her anxiety about her children getting excited about dodge ball, because she had painful memories of that game. She called the children's gym teacher to protest, armed with the facts (the National Association for Sport & Physical Education had issued a position paper on dodge ball, claiming that it was an inappropriate activity for K-12, because it targets and eliminates weaker kids).
She eventually had to give up her fight when she learned that not only did her kids love dodge ball, but no one else was complaining. (As a fellow dodge ball hater, I question that...there must have been kids at that school who didn't like the game, but they were being quiet, like I was.)
Chapter 10: Waldman's anecdote about receiving a bonus package of condoms and installing them in her children's bedroom, to their horror, reminds me of a friend of ours in Japan, whose mother would arrive from England with a box of condoms for him.
Chapter 11: She poignantly writes about experiencing a pregnancy in which the baby was suspected to have a serious chromosomal defect, and their decision to terminate. This is never an easy choice for parents, and I admire Waldman's courage in writing about this, including her own doubts and guilt about their decision...as well as their grief for their lost child, Rocketship. She also points out that when our mothers' generation was fighting for the right to choose, they didn't have to "confront the ugly physical reality." They didn't have ultrasounds and get the opportunity to see their babies on screen and form emotional attachments to them. I've never been the pro-choice advocate who insists that a fetus is not a baby. After giving birth to a 24-weeker and experiencing multiple miscarriages, I know all too well that a fetus is a baby. I still passionately believe in choice, but this knowledge makes the issues of abortion ever more painful and makes the issue far more complicated, with large areas of gray shading.
Chapter 14: When discovering during one of her next pregnancies that the baby was underweight (which could be an indicator of a fatal trisomy defect), she lets herself go to the dark side, for awhile. Then she goes to temple on Rosh Hashanah and listens to a sermon about hope and trusting in God. She suddenly had a moment of certain realization that her baby would be fine...even though she was the worst kind of pessimist. I could relate to this deep-down feeling--I had the same feeling when Chris was in the NICU. Even in spite of the dire predictions, I clung to my hope that he would be a healthy, happy child. That's not to say that my hope didn't ever falter, but with a few exceptions, that hope got me through the dark days. And my gut feeling was correct, just as Waldman's was.
Chapter 15: Waldman writes about hoping that one of her sons will be gay, because she thinks he will be closer to his mother that way. And she also won't have to compete with a daughter-in-law. I truly hope that I have some wonderful daughter-in-laws, but I confess to a few worries about that prospect. Will she drive my son away from me? Will she love us as much as he does? I get her concerns. Add to that the fact that gay men often tend to be more forthcoming and sensitive than straight men...and I get it.
Chapter 16: Maybe it's hormonal, maybe it's just loving babies. But I can relate to Waldman's baby lust. In my case, I know that three children is enough (four for her), but I can't help but feeling a bit of baby lust when I see a baby. Not that I want another one, mind you, but for a brief second, I remember the feel of that brand-new soft skin against mine, the complete helplessness and cuddliness of a newborn, and I have a moment of insanity.
Chapter 18: Finally, she writes about the parent who inevitably asks--at every back-to-school night, "What accommodations do you make for the exceptionally gifted child?" I love the way she confesses to her own secret hopes that her children will be brilliant and gifted, and then comes to realize that while they may not be brilliant on the standardized testing model, they are brilliant in other ways. While we are desperately wanting our children to be advanced or gifted in some way, we can miss the magic of everyday wonder. And so much emphasis on aggressive education and advanced learning can also reduce a child's chance to just be a child.
One of Waldman's sons has a "malformed palate"--and he nearly starves, or so she tells it. She talks about her intense guilt for missing this until it was almost too late (although the medical professionals missed it, too!), and her feelings of guilt because she had been taking medication during the pregnancy. She writes about her difficulties in getting him to eat--and so desperately wanting him to breastfeed--and I think of the struggles my own mother must have gone through when I was born with a cleft palate.
At first, I was marveling at Waldman's depth of revelation...even though some people who read my blogs might think that I reveal too much, actually I do hold back! But later I read about Waldman's bipolar diagnosis and her own fears that her children might end up with the same disorder, and it made more sense. Waldman herself admits that she has a tendency to "overshare" at times. This makes for better and more memorable writing, but it also sets her up to be a target and to be called a "bad mother."
Reading about the depth of love Waldman has for her children convinced me that she is anything but a "bad mother." We've all felt like bad mothers at times, and Waldman is no different.
But how many of us would be willing to share our warts and scabs for all the world to read? This book, clearly, is not for everyone...but I feel like I have found a new friend.
Finally, I love synchronicity. We are reading the Lemony Snicket series to our 7-year-old, Kieran, at the moment, and he is loving them. In Waldman's acknowledgements, she lists several people and then there is this line:
To Daniel Handler (whose idea this was in the first place)...
Daniel Handler is the author of the Lemony Snicket series. Is that not a perfect ending?
She organizes it into 18 chapters, 18 being a significant number in the Jewish faith. Each chapter tackles a different topic related to her experience of motherhood.
Waldman was a lightning rod on the internet a few years ago, when she published an essay saying that she loved her husband more than her children. She went on to say that if one of her children were to die, she would survive somehow, but it would be vastly more difficult to survive her husband's death.
Frankly, I don't even want to consider such questions, which reflects my tendency to avoid thinking of such potentially difficult subjects. But is it really so horrible to say that she loves her husband more than her children? After all, he came first. I remember, growing up, that my parents' relationship was primary in our family. They always made the time to go out on dates and spend time alone. It was their opportunity for recharging. This never upset me (except on a few occasions when we were left over the weekend with people we didn't know very well).
Ayelet Waldman was raked over the coals and pilloried on the internet for making such a statement. She was called a "bad mother," both literally and by suggestion. This experience, along with her realization that women are apt to label each other such, prompted her to write this book.
Here's what resonated with me:
Chapter 1: Waldman's admitted sanctimony before she had children...when she saw a woman speaking harshly to her woman on a Muni train...and she informed the woman that everyone was watching her. She then goes on to talk about how readily we label women as "bad mothers," while all a man has to do to be called a "good father" is to simply show up and be present. Rarely are men labeled as "bad fathers" unless they have abandoned their families or are drug addicts or criminals. The standards are completely different for men and women. There are no "daddy wars."
Chapter 2: She describes the moment when she first met her husband, writer Michael Chabon, on a blind date. He came to her door, and even though as a cynical soul she didn't believe in love at first sight, when she saw him, she knew he would be her soul mate. She uses the Yiddish term--bashert--the one that God, or fate, meant for you.
"The legend associated with this word says that before you are born, an angel appears to the soul of your infant self and takes you on a tour of your life. You visit your future, or a version of your future. One of the things the angel shows you is the person whose soul is a match for yours. The person with whom you are meant to share your life. Then the angel strikes you beneath your nose, leaving that subtle channel in the skin between the nose and the mouth, your philtrum. The blow causes you to forget what you have seen. But there remains a vestige of memory, an unconscious sense of what you saw and learned. Enough of a memory to evoke a jolt of recognition when you stumble across your bashert..."
I love this description, because it describes so well how I felt about my own Michael when I first met him and began getting to know him...as if we had been destined to meet and join together.
I also enjoyed Waldman's description of how she multi-tasked while breast pumping...that was me, for so many months and years of my life! Fortunately I didn't have to deal with young men barging in on me to sneak a peek at my breasts, as Waldman did in her law office.
Chapter 3: Waldman devotes a chapter to her (and her husband's) growing up to "Free to Be You and Me." And here is my only criticism of the book. She claims that "Free to Be You and Me" is faulty grammar, and actually titles the chapter "Free to Be You and I," which she claims is correct. I beg to differ: "Free to Be You and Me" is correct. The grammatical error in that song is "And you and me are free to be you and me," which should be "And you and I are free to be you and me."
But anyway...I loved the descriptions of that wonderful book, record, and TV program, which was the backdrop of my own childhood. I too could recite "Ladies First" by heart. I remember my sister saving up all her money to purchase a copy of the record for our beloved teacher, Mr. Sposito (I had him in 3rd grade and she had him in 2nd), when we invited him over to dinner--one of the highlights of our childhood!
When I had my own children, I sought out and purchased the video for them. Even if my husband didn't grow up on "Free to Be You and Me," he could have, given his full commitment to being an equal partner in our marriage and parenting.
Chapter 9: She writes of her anxiety about her children getting excited about dodge ball, because she had painful memories of that game. She called the children's gym teacher to protest, armed with the facts (the National Association for Sport & Physical Education had issued a position paper on dodge ball, claiming that it was an inappropriate activity for K-12, because it targets and eliminates weaker kids).
She eventually had to give up her fight when she learned that not only did her kids love dodge ball, but no one else was complaining. (As a fellow dodge ball hater, I question that...there must have been kids at that school who didn't like the game, but they were being quiet, like I was.)
Chapter 10: Waldman's anecdote about receiving a bonus package of condoms and installing them in her children's bedroom, to their horror, reminds me of a friend of ours in Japan, whose mother would arrive from England with a box of condoms for him.
Chapter 11: She poignantly writes about experiencing a pregnancy in which the baby was suspected to have a serious chromosomal defect, and their decision to terminate. This is never an easy choice for parents, and I admire Waldman's courage in writing about this, including her own doubts and guilt about their decision...as well as their grief for their lost child, Rocketship. She also points out that when our mothers' generation was fighting for the right to choose, they didn't have to "confront the ugly physical reality." They didn't have ultrasounds and get the opportunity to see their babies on screen and form emotional attachments to them. I've never been the pro-choice advocate who insists that a fetus is not a baby. After giving birth to a 24-weeker and experiencing multiple miscarriages, I know all too well that a fetus is a baby. I still passionately believe in choice, but this knowledge makes the issues of abortion ever more painful and makes the issue far more complicated, with large areas of gray shading.
Chapter 14: When discovering during one of her next pregnancies that the baby was underweight (which could be an indicator of a fatal trisomy defect), she lets herself go to the dark side, for awhile. Then she goes to temple on Rosh Hashanah and listens to a sermon about hope and trusting in God. She suddenly had a moment of certain realization that her baby would be fine...even though she was the worst kind of pessimist. I could relate to this deep-down feeling--I had the same feeling when Chris was in the NICU. Even in spite of the dire predictions, I clung to my hope that he would be a healthy, happy child. That's not to say that my hope didn't ever falter, but with a few exceptions, that hope got me through the dark days. And my gut feeling was correct, just as Waldman's was.
Chapter 15: Waldman writes about hoping that one of her sons will be gay, because she thinks he will be closer to his mother that way. And she also won't have to compete with a daughter-in-law. I truly hope that I have some wonderful daughter-in-laws, but I confess to a few worries about that prospect. Will she drive my son away from me? Will she love us as much as he does? I get her concerns. Add to that the fact that gay men often tend to be more forthcoming and sensitive than straight men...and I get it.
Chapter 16: Maybe it's hormonal, maybe it's just loving babies. But I can relate to Waldman's baby lust. In my case, I know that three children is enough (four for her), but I can't help but feeling a bit of baby lust when I see a baby. Not that I want another one, mind you, but for a brief second, I remember the feel of that brand-new soft skin against mine, the complete helplessness and cuddliness of a newborn, and I have a moment of insanity.
Chapter 18: Finally, she writes about the parent who inevitably asks--at every back-to-school night, "What accommodations do you make for the exceptionally gifted child?" I love the way she confesses to her own secret hopes that her children will be brilliant and gifted, and then comes to realize that while they may not be brilliant on the standardized testing model, they are brilliant in other ways. While we are desperately wanting our children to be advanced or gifted in some way, we can miss the magic of everyday wonder. And so much emphasis on aggressive education and advanced learning can also reduce a child's chance to just be a child.
One of Waldman's sons has a "malformed palate"--and he nearly starves, or so she tells it. She talks about her intense guilt for missing this until it was almost too late (although the medical professionals missed it, too!), and her feelings of guilt because she had been taking medication during the pregnancy. She writes about her difficulties in getting him to eat--and so desperately wanting him to breastfeed--and I think of the struggles my own mother must have gone through when I was born with a cleft palate.
At first, I was marveling at Waldman's depth of revelation...even though some people who read my blogs might think that I reveal too much, actually I do hold back! But later I read about Waldman's bipolar diagnosis and her own fears that her children might end up with the same disorder, and it made more sense. Waldman herself admits that she has a tendency to "overshare" at times. This makes for better and more memorable writing, but it also sets her up to be a target and to be called a "bad mother."
Reading about the depth of love Waldman has for her children convinced me that she is anything but a "bad mother." We've all felt like bad mothers at times, and Waldman is no different.
But how many of us would be willing to share our warts and scabs for all the world to read? This book, clearly, is not for everyone...but I feel like I have found a new friend.
Finally, I love synchronicity. We are reading the Lemony Snicket series to our 7-year-old, Kieran, at the moment, and he is loving them. In Waldman's acknowledgements, she lists several people and then there is this line:
To Daniel Handler (whose idea this was in the first place)...
Daniel Handler is the author of the Lemony Snicket series. Is that not a perfect ending?
red_magpie's review against another edition
5.0
I loved this brave, honest, and funny book. Read it now!
megatsunami's review against another edition
4.0
This book was a lot of fun. Ayelet Waldman is hilarious (my partner kept looking over at me as I was laughing out loud while reading). Definitely focused on a certain (upper middle class) segment of the parenting population, but nonetheless quite entertaining, and I found her stories about being labelled a "bad mother" fun and validating.
mrsfligs's review against another edition
4.0
Overview
Subtitled "A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities and Occasional Moments of Grace," Bad Mother is a warts-and-all look at Waldman's experiences as a mother. (She has four children.) These types of books are like catnip to me. What mother doesn't want to learn that she is not alone in her misgivings about her mothering skills?
Waldman writes openly and honestly about a wide variety of topics, including:
* pursuing a career versus staying at home (Waldman gave up a high-powered career as a lawyer to stay-at-home ... only to find herself often bored out of her mind! HAHA! Don't I know it!)
* balancing household chores and sex roles with your partner (Can we ever really break through the "this is woman's work" and "this is men's work"?)
* breast-feeding (more on this below)
* judging other mothers (more on this below)
* the mother-son relationship and how it affects the relationship with your mother-in-law (I still don't quite measure up to how my husband's mom used to take care of him ... especially when he is sick.)
* dealing with your children's homework (where do you draw the line?)
* projecting your own fears and hopes on your children (Waldman writes about her outrage and subsequent attempt to ban dodgeball in her children's gym class ... but her children loved it. She was fighting a fight from her own childhood.)
* dealing with daughters and sex issues (Waldman explores her own sexual history ... and how she hopes her daughters don't make the same choices she did.)
* having an abortion for a child who might be born with genetic defects (This chapter, entitled "Rocketship," is easily the most heart-breaking and difficult to read.)
* arguing in front of your kids (They are listening ... don't fool yourself that they are not.)
* how honest to be with your kids (Just how do you handle the sex/drug talk if you want to be totally honest about your past but impart a "do as a I say, not as I did" message?)
* being a different mom for different kids (In other words, how she wasn't the same mother she was for her first-born as for her last-born.)
* handing down a genetic legacy to your children that is less than perfect (Waldman writes about her own bipolar disorder and fear of passing it to her children.)
* parenting a child who might be gay (This felt like the least genuine chapter to me; it felt more like a political essay than a personal one.)
* baby lust (Those tiny baby feet will get you every time!)
* wanting to protect your children from the ugliness of the world (This is an issue that Mr. Jenners and I struggle with. There is a fine line between keeping your children safe and making them "street savvy" and scaring them into thinking the world is an unsafe, bad place.)
* managing your expectations/hopes/dreams for your children. (I struggle with this every day, and I imagine it is only going to get worse.)
As you can see, the book ranges over a wide variety of topics and delves into some deep and emotional issues. I admire Waldman's honesty and directness. She really put herself out there with this book. I suspect that if you don't share Waldman's basic worldview (liberal), you might not care for much of what she has to say or appreciate where she is coming from in life. Yet I think most mothers would find some area of common ground with Waldman, and I think her message of "let's all be gentler with ourselves and one another" is one we should all take to heart.
Structurally, the book is divided into 18 different chapters, with each one functioning as a stand-alone essay. Most of the essays are very personal and specific to Waldman's life and background; yet I think she has a knack for making her personal experiences relatable.
My Final Recommendation
This is a thought-provoking and honest look at motherhood that will give readers lots to think about. Waldman doesn't hold back anything, and I appreciated her candidness and openness. I've read a few books on motherhood, and I found this to be one of the most provocative. The writing is good (even if she does tend to meander a little bit), and she has a very conversational writing style. She is often funny and flippant, which balances out the more emotional moments. If this is a topic of interest to you, I would categorize it as a "must read." However, Waldman's views come from a more liberal, feminist angle so if this doesn't mesh with your worldview, this book might not be the best choice for you. I'm giving it 4 stars.
Subtitled "A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities and Occasional Moments of Grace," Bad Mother is a warts-and-all look at Waldman's experiences as a mother. (She has four children.) These types of books are like catnip to me. What mother doesn't want to learn that she is not alone in her misgivings about her mothering skills?
Waldman writes openly and honestly about a wide variety of topics, including:
* pursuing a career versus staying at home (Waldman gave up a high-powered career as a lawyer to stay-at-home ... only to find herself often bored out of her mind! HAHA! Don't I know it!)
* balancing household chores and sex roles with your partner (Can we ever really break through the "this is woman's work" and "this is men's work"?)
* breast-feeding (more on this below)
* judging other mothers (more on this below)
* the mother-son relationship and how it affects the relationship with your mother-in-law (I still don't quite measure up to how my husband's mom used to take care of him ... especially when he is sick.)
* dealing with your children's homework (where do you draw the line?)
* projecting your own fears and hopes on your children (Waldman writes about her outrage and subsequent attempt to ban dodgeball in her children's gym class ... but her children loved it. She was fighting a fight from her own childhood.)
* dealing with daughters and sex issues (Waldman explores her own sexual history ... and how she hopes her daughters don't make the same choices she did.)
* having an abortion for a child who might be born with genetic defects (This chapter, entitled "Rocketship," is easily the most heart-breaking and difficult to read.)
* arguing in front of your kids (They are listening ... don't fool yourself that they are not.)
* how honest to be with your kids (Just how do you handle the sex/drug talk if you want to be totally honest about your past but impart a "do as a I say, not as I did" message?)
* being a different mom for different kids (In other words, how she wasn't the same mother she was for her first-born as for her last-born.)
* handing down a genetic legacy to your children that is less than perfect (Waldman writes about her own bipolar disorder and fear of passing it to her children.)
* parenting a child who might be gay (This felt like the least genuine chapter to me; it felt more like a political essay than a personal one.)
* baby lust (Those tiny baby feet will get you every time!)
* wanting to protect your children from the ugliness of the world (This is an issue that Mr. Jenners and I struggle with. There is a fine line between keeping your children safe and making them "street savvy" and scaring them into thinking the world is an unsafe, bad place.)
* managing your expectations/hopes/dreams for your children. (I struggle with this every day, and I imagine it is only going to get worse.)
As you can see, the book ranges over a wide variety of topics and delves into some deep and emotional issues. I admire Waldman's honesty and directness. She really put herself out there with this book. I suspect that if you don't share Waldman's basic worldview (liberal), you might not care for much of what she has to say or appreciate where she is coming from in life. Yet I think most mothers would find some area of common ground with Waldman, and I think her message of "let's all be gentler with ourselves and one another" is one we should all take to heart.
Structurally, the book is divided into 18 different chapters, with each one functioning as a stand-alone essay. Most of the essays are very personal and specific to Waldman's life and background; yet I think she has a knack for making her personal experiences relatable.
My Final Recommendation
This is a thought-provoking and honest look at motherhood that will give readers lots to think about. Waldman doesn't hold back anything, and I appreciated her candidness and openness. I've read a few books on motherhood, and I found this to be one of the most provocative. The writing is good (even if she does tend to meander a little bit), and she has a very conversational writing style. She is often funny and flippant, which balances out the more emotional moments. If this is a topic of interest to you, I would categorize it as a "must read." However, Waldman's views come from a more liberal, feminist angle so if this doesn't mesh with your worldview, this book might not be the best choice for you. I'm giving it 4 stars.
diannehult16's review against another edition
3.0
I think that mothers in their 30s and 40s would find this book very interesting and would likely lead to some lengthy discussions and many opinions about controversial subjects.
merricatadamtine's review against another edition
4.0
Ayelet Waldman can be her own worst critic, though that may seem hard to believe when you read what some of her critics have to say about her. Yet any mother knows that sinking feeling you get when you are sure that the mom next to you in pick up line, the granny at the market or your mother in law is judging your abilities as a parent. And that special feeling you get when YOU are the one judging yourself. We have become a nation so fanatical about being the best that the idea of not being the best mother can be mortifying. Ayelet looks at these feelings and then skewers them with humor and accuracy. She realizes that when being the perfect mother may not be attainable or even desirable, the most important facet of being a good parent is to be *present*, as in being mindful of every moment, both good and bad. Written in a style reminiscent of Anne Lamont, Waldman is honest, self deprecating and very funny.