Tonight my Gwen dyed her gorgeous thick chestnut hair a greasy shade of yellow.   She was going for white-blonde like Marylin Monroe, but apparently crayon-yellow is what happens when you put Manic Panic Flashlightning on ten or fifteen pounds of very thick, very long, very tangly brown hair.  It looks "cool," I guess, but I think we'd both feel ( Read more... )

Gwen left for Miami today.  She spends her summers there with her father.  I have eight weeks to myself.

I look forward to this time alone all year. I crave it like a drug.  I do not think this makes me a bad mother.

In the formative years of my feminism, before I was a parent, I used to agree with Virginia Woolfe that women needed space and time ( Read more... )