Instituting Shabbat
When Jon and I sat down at the end of the summer to sketch out the academic year ahead in broad strokes, I told him I wanted to prioritize Friday evening Shabbat dinners.
We’ve done Shabbat - saying the prayers, at least - most weeks over the last few years, but I want to make it part of our default. More, actually: I want to keep Friday evening sacred as family time. Part of that means committing to being at home for Shabbat and scheduling activities on other nights. But the other part, even if we just throw a frozen pizza in the oven and say the hagafen over a beer (despite the blessing literally meaning “who created the fruit of the vine”), means recognizing it as an experience outside of our normal routine.
How I (Try To) Avoid Burnout
Earlier this week, I mentioned on Instagram that I had about a dozen half-drafted posts (or titles for posts, at least) on working motherhood saved for this blog. I asked if there was anything in particular you wanted to read from me, and someone replied, “You somehow do not seem burnt out. How?”
A Thank-You To Daycare
Tomorrow is Claire’s last day at daycare. We’ve been with this daycare for almost six years; Robbie started when he was nine months old, in September 2018, and he and Claire overlapped for a few months before he moved on to preK-3.
I’m not going to delve into the bowels of Reddit or conservative parenting blogs to find exact quotes from people who think that sending a child to daycare is tantamount to abuse, but one I remember seeing repeatedly over the years is “Well, I could never let someone else raise my child.”
So You’re Expecting Your First Child
If the women who post prolifically on the internet - Instagram and Reddit in particular - are representative of most pregnant women and mothers across the country, I have had a very unusual last seven years.
On Robbie’s Graduation from Kindergarten
I was surprised to find myself crying when I dropped Robbie off at school for his last day of kindergarten…