I got immediately sucked in to Literary Mama. I read the site, of course, so many of the pieces were familiar to me, but something about reading them in bed, or on the couch in front of a blazing fire, made them new again. You can blame my bad parenting moments from the last week on this book. I loved it, I couldn't put it down.
Literary Mama gives voice to the creativity of mothers, and our unfliching, unapologetic view of our daily lives. This is not a Hallmark world of happy, triumphant parenting moments, this is a world where our frustrations are as accepted as our joy, our sorrow is as real as our gratitude, and our vulnerability is ever-present.
As important as writing about mothering is, reading about mothering provides insight and compassion toward other mothers and toward ourselves. We are lucky to be mothering in a time when Literary Mama is publishing such great content, and when "mommybloggers" are chronicling their lives.
I got a treat at the end of the book. Andi Buchanan's piece, The Plant, was something I read a long time ago, before I knew Andi or her work. It stayed with me, and I often thought of getting a houseplant, like the teacher in the story says, to gauge how kind I am to myself, to learn how to nurture myself. I never did, and if I did I would probably kill it. I didn't realize it was Andi who wrote it until this week when I read the book.