Photo Op!

Do you post pictures of your kids online?

Last week Lauren Apfel and I duked it out on Brain, Child on the question of whether we should be posting photos of our (admittedly adorable) kids on social media. Is it a fun way to show them off connect with other parents or wildly unethical an invasion of their privacy?

This is as much of my daughter as you'll see online.

A question for our time. What do you think? Join the conversation here!

xo

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My Kid Speaks German! I Don’t!

Today I revealed that I don’t understand most of what my daughter says speaks German. Luckily for her, I don’t. Motherhood is so complicated.

Head on over to the Washington Post for my take on language acquisition, the power of circumstance in shaping parental identity, and children’s earliest individuations — or, put more simply, on being the dumb American at my kid’s daycare.

xox

The Ambivalent Expat

I wrote a piece that I feared would offend everyone I know about life as an expat in Vienna. Luckily no one has written me hate mail who was offended has told me so! Yay!

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(Life as an expat: Lots of dirty baby clothes. No dryer.)

***

When my husband and I moved to Vienna, Austria, two years ago, we were frequently set up on friend dates. This is par for the course for a new expat — someone hears that you’ve moved to some faraway city, and their coworker’s cat’s former owner’s cousin always knows someone who — can you believe it? — just happens to be your neighbor. No matter how outlandish the setup — they were born-again Christians or Hassidic Jews, they were hated by the very people who’d put us in touch — we always went.

After these meetings, I would invariably turn to my husband and say: We’d never be friends with these people in real life.

Real life: this was my phrase. Not in New York, where I had lived for 12 years, or the vague back home, but in real life, as though I had skipped a track and found myself in a different, parallel universe.

Read the rest on Medium!

xoxo

The Secrets We Keep

It’s October! Which means that two years ago (!), right around this time, I thought I had the stomach flu found out that I was pregnant. It was a pretty miserable miraculous time; I felt very confused about the fact that I wasn’t supposed to share the news until I hit 12 or 13 weeks, when the pregnancy was deemed “viable.” So between watching serial episodes of The Good Wife trying to teach my students without puking, I wrote about it.

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This week, the Archipelago on Medium published my essay, I’m Pregnant. So Why Can’t I Tell You? (How’s that for a direct title?) This is a subject that people have wildly differing views about (SHARE! DON’T SHARE!). The discussion about it out there in the cyber world is already mind-blowing. (I especially love the comments made by people who clearly don’t read very closely.) I’m always curious to hear what you think. xo

Brain + Child = Publication

An adorable photo of the baby’s butt My new essay about the (rather difficult) first year of motherhood made it into my beloved Brain, Child Magazine. I’ve loved this smart publication ever since I read Cheryl Strayed’s lovely piece about trying to finish her book, Torch, after her son’s birth. (Now that I have not finished my book, I am in even more awe that she managed to do it.)

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I kind of hoped that they’d print the above photo along with the piece, but they couldn’t because look at how greasy my hair looks that weird Austrian dude photobombing us. (The babe was about two weeks old in that shot; I’m not kissing a lump of fabric.) Click here to read the new piece and see the baby’s aforementioned strawberry backside. It is really the sweetest thing. (As of this writing, it has an astonishing 1,000+ likes on Facebook. Clearly my mother has liked it many, many times I am not the only one who found this year hard!)

xo

PS: If you’d like to read my last essay about motherhood — on the myth of the instant family, on The Toast — click here!

It Ain’t Easy Being Three

It’s raining today in Vienna. What in the world does one do with a baby when it’s raining? I basically let her eat bandaids tear the bathroom apart because we’ve been trapped inside since 7am.

In totally non-bandaid-related news, months and months ago, I made some notes on my iPhone while my daughter slept in her stroller after I had walked the entire city of Vienna. I was sick of feeling like the only person who hadn’t had a picture-perfect transition to family life; that something was off kilter. When I had more than 45 minutes at a stretch to sit down at the computer, these notes eventually evolved into an essay about the myth of the instant family — or the difficulty of becoming three.

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I am so, so pleased that the ladies at The Toast published it last week. You can read it by clicking here. The response has been overwhelming — so, so many people go through this, it turns out! — and I’d love to hear from even more of you.

xo