food for thought

I'm working on a trilogy of related columns right now, covering three documentaries about different paths to motherhood and changing attitudes toward how we become mothers. The first, Adopted, looked closely at two families who adopted daughters from China. The third column, on the documentary Sunshine, will explore one family's history of single motherhood. And the second column, on Deirdre Fishel's film, Sperm Donor X, is up now at Literary Mama. Here's an excerpt:

I must have been in second grade when I first thought about how old I would be in the year 2000 -- 32 -- and what my life would be like by then. Basing my vision entirely on my mom's life, I assumed I'd be married with four kids.

I didn't spend the intervening years fretting about the gap between that vision and my reality -- milestone birthdays came and went without a husband, and at some point I realized I didn't really want four kids -- but by the time the ball dropped in Times Square on New Year's Eve, 1999, I was engaged and on the way to a more realistic vision for myself. These days, when I'm helping Eli find dress-up clothes for his stuffed dog's wedding or discussing the rate for a night in Ben's space hotel, I sometimes pause to marvel that this has become my life, a life I could never have imagined when I was the age my oldest is now.

I'm lucky that my childhood dream adjusted easily to my adult reality. I'm lucky that I didn't have to give up one dream for another, or struggle to get the family I wanted. That struggle, and that difficult adjustment to an unanticipated reality, is the undercurrent of Deirdre Fishel's documentary, Sperm Donor X (2002), which follows four women, including the filmmaker herself, who want to become mothers and find themselves unexpectedly doing it on their own, with anonymous sperm donors.

You can read the rest over at Literary Mama. The film hasn't been released yet, as the filmmaker still needs to raise funds to license archival footage. If you'd like to help, consider making a donation at Kickstarter.

Labels: documentaries, literary mama, mama at the movies

Last year, I wrote about Pamela Tanner Boll's inspiring documentary about artists who are also mothers; if you haven't seen it yet and are in the New York area, here's a great way to see the movie, participate in a lively conversation about art and parenting, and do good -- all at the same time!


"This film is not about being a woman or being a woman artist, but rather how to be a human, how to find your true place in life.”

Join us for an evening of inspiration, collaboration and art

Wine Reception* Film Screening* Panel Discussion

May 1, 2010

6:30 pm

Peekskill Hat Factory

1000 North Division Street, Peekskill

Tickets: $30 per person

Hosted by The Peekskill Hat Factory

Benefitting The Garden Road School’s Arts in Education Programs

For more information or to purchase tickets visit: The Garden Road or email infoATthegardenroadDOTorg

************************************************************************

ABOUT THE FILM:

WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS? is a documentary by Academy Award winning filmmaker, Pamela Tanner Boll that follows the lives of five fierce female artists who refuse to choose between their art and their families. Through the lens of their lives, the film explores some of the most problematic intersections of our time: mothering and creativity, partnering and independence, economics and art. Visit the film's website to view the trailer and to learn more.

ABOUT THE PANELISTS:

We are honored to have six very talented artist-mothers signed on for what is sure to be a lively, relevant and moving panel discussion following the film. These fascinating women represent a cross section of female artists working to balance their art and families. They bring to the discussion a diversity of artistic mediums, life experiences, and personal perspectives.

Maria Colaco

Leslie Fields-Cruz

Sarah Haviland

Kathleen Pemble

Lowry Reinaur, Artist in Residence at The Garden Road School

Dar Williams

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, who does she think she is?

"Nearly 60% of Americans are personally connected to someone who is either adopted, has adopted, or has relinquished a child to be adopted."
-- Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute

I read this statistic, which runs at the end of Barb Lee's documentary, Adopted (2008), and started counting in my head: ten cousins, two college roommates, one graduate school friend and two colleagues who are adopted, plus four other friends who have adopted children themselves. Two of my sons' four cousins are adopted. Yes, indeed, I am one of that 60%, and my life is certainly richer for it, but watching Adopted made me think that perhaps I take these riches too lightly.

Adopted tells the story of two families. First we meet Jennifer Fero, a thirty-two year old Korean woman adopted as an infant by an Oregon couple who experienced secondary infertility after having a son; the second storyline follows John and Jacqui Trainer, a New Hampshire couple who decide to adopt from China after their own long struggle with infertility. The two families are at opposite ends of their adoption journeys.

Please click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: Adopted, documentaries, literary mama, mama at the movies

Come to a preview screening/potluck dinner/discussion/fundraiser for independent mom filmmaker Deirdre Fishel, who is raising funds to complete her documentary, Sperm Donor X. Donations gratefully accepted, but not required; come for the movie, stay for the discussion!

Here is Deirdre's story:

I began filming Sperm Donor X at 40, when I found myself at a precipice. I wanted to at least try to have a biological child yet doing it alone with donor sperm felt bizarre and terrifying.

I had no idea how my story would end and I was interested in finding other diverse women facing the same turning point. I filmed myself and three other women for two years, then stopped because I wasn't sure I wanted to put out such a personal film. But I started again because not a day goes by that I don't look at my kids and feel grateful that I made this choice. It's almost painful to think what I would have missed if I hadn't.

Every month I meet smart, talented, beautiful women in their thirties and early forties who want children and yet are so afraid of doing it alone. Some see it as a personal failure. But the truth is we're well into a huge cultural shift, with the numbers of singles skyrocketing and more and more people getting into their primary relationships later in life.

My fervent wish with this documentary is to normalize a process that felt bizarre and foreign to me and to show that there are so many ways to be a family. Women having kids alone with donor sperm is just one of them and it's okay.

Sperm Donor X is a fully edited 54 minute film. But without the finishing funds to do a sound mix, color correct, and license the archival footage it won't get out into the world. Please help us by giving what you can. Many thanks.

You can see a trailer of the film here.

Saturday February 6, 6:30 - 9:30 PM, Oakland, CA

Contact me or Literary Mama's CNF editor, Susan Ito, for address; write to LMnonfiction (at) literarymama (dot) com and please put "Sperm Donor X" in the subject line.

Labels: documentaries, filmmaking, mama at the movies

One of the sweet highlights of our Christmas vacation was our first-ever family movie outing, which provided fodder for my newest column at Literary Mama. Here's an excerpt:

We've been looking for Ben's first movie theater-movie for years. It had to be fairly quiet: no big explosions, no loud soundtrack (though we would bring ear plugs to protect against overzealous projectionists.) It had to be a gentle story: no heightened drama, no second act inflated by chase scenes. I could do without a lot of violence, car crashes or gun play (which make a surprising number of appearances even in G-rated kids' movies) and a well-written movie that didn't traffic in stereotypes would be welcome, though mostly I just wanted something that would make Ben laugh.

And so we found it, a movie about a fellow who makes a living as a thief until one day, while he is imprisoned for his crimes, he learns his wife is pregnant and he decides to go legit, writing a little-read column for the local newspaper. He settles into a modest life with his wife, a landscape painter, and his quirky son, a boy who embarrasses his father because he wears a bath towel as a cape and tucks his socks into his pants. When the boy's cousin comes for an extended visit, the father isn't ashamed to say that he prefers his socially-adept, athletic nephew to his son. But the quiet life bores him and he is tempted back into his life of crime, stealing from his neighbors, deceiving his wife, and ultimately putting his entire community at risk.

Perfect!

Fantastic Mr. Fox was perfect for us; ever since we saw it, the boys have been quoting lines, working on their whistling (to mimic Mr. Fox's trademark), we even made the cookies. Click on over to Literary Mama to read more.

Labels: Fantastic Mr. Fox, literary mama, mama at the movies, movies, Roald Dahl, Wes Anderson

How perfect! A movie about a woman trying to raise two kids in the city while also carving out time to write. I was eager to see Katherine Dieckmann's new film, Motherhood, especially after reading the interview with her on Literary Mama. Here's an excerpt from my latest column:

Dressed in jeans and an old fleece, my hair pulled back into a messy bun, I looked exactly like what I am: a mom who'd just barely made it out of the house, leaving the post-dinner mess, homework supervision, and the kids' bedtime to my husband so that I could see a movie. Glancing around the theater, I saw my compatriots, in ones and twos, one pair with a sling-cozy baby, eating balanced dinners of popcorn and peanut M&Ms. Not date night, but mom's night out at the movies as we all waited for the start of Motherhood, Katherine Dieckmann's day-in-the-life film about Eliza Welsh, New York City mommy-blogger, former fiction writer, wife, and mother of two.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest, and let me know what you think!

Labels: mama at the movies, motherhood, movies

We are not, I admit, a family; we're folks. Sendak's fantasy of naked Mickey's romp in a New York City kitchen offers an airplane ride, guitar-playing, and the promise of breakfast cake; it depicts a child's solo adventure, but leads him gently back to bed at the end. It is the perfect story for my airplane-drawing, music-loving, kitchen-happy boys. , with Max's fierce temper and the Wild Things' raucous rumpussing, despite its blue-green cross-hatched beauty and peaceful ending, just scares my kids. There was no question of my movie-shy children attending the new film adaptation by Spike Jonze and Dave Eggers, especially after I heard them clarify that is not a film for children, but a film about childhood.

And for that, I love it.

click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, movies, where the wild things are

Why would I spend an evening at a movie about a dad who's left to raise his two sons alone after his wife dies of cancer? I've written before about absent-mother movies; it's not that I have some morbid curiosity about families without mothers or expect that these movies are going to show me what might be (I certainly hope not!) I love movies about family relationships, I love quiet, talky movies, and I have to admit I love a chance to attend a free press screening. So I went to The Boys Are Back with a friend (whose own two boys are old enough to be left alone for a couple hours while she goes to an early evening movie). I thought, based on what I knew of the plot, that it might be a bit sappy. But we were both very pleasantly surprised, because The Boys Are Back is a really lovely film about a man learning how to father after his wife passes away.

The film is based on Simon Carr's memoir of the same name. Carr is a columnist for The Independent, though in the film's one significant, and perfectly reasonable, deviation from the memoir, Clive Owen plays him as a sportswriter named Joe. It makes his job look a bit more glamorous (we see him writing coverage of Michael Phelps at the Sydney Olympics), though my friend and I did wonder exactly how this dad was supporting his family's very comfortable lifestyle on a newspaper writer's salary. We should be so lucky. But that's a tiny quibble in what's otherwise a very realistic, human, and beautifully-told story about a little family struggling to regain its equilibrium after a devastating loss.

The film opens with Joe driving a jeep along the beach. Water is spraying past, and we begin to see that people are shouting at him, presumably just because he is driving on the beach. But then the camera pulls back and we see a little boy perched on the hood of the car, griping the windshield wipers behind him, screaming with delight. This is our first clue that this family is different. The film flashes back briefly then, to tell the story of the mother's cancer diagnosis and death, and the moment I knew this was a film that understands a bit about children and families was when Joe tells his son, Artie (a sweet and impish Nicholas McAnulty) that his mom is ill. The four year-old has good questions: "Is Mummy going to die? When? Will she die by dinner time? Will she die by bedtime? Will she die by breakfast?" And Joe understands that these are reasonable questions from a kid, and answers honestly, "I don't know."

Most of the film then narrates the life Joe builds with little Artie and his son from his first marriage, Harry, a young teen who comes to live with them some months after the death of Artie's mom. "The fact is," explains Joe to Harry, "I run a pretty loose ship. . . . We found that the more rules we had the more crimes were created; petty prosecutions started to clog up the machinery of life. Conversely, the fewer the rules we had, the nicer we were to each other." It's not all indoor water balloon fights and bike-riding in the kitchen (though there is that); the silly, like in real life, is tempered by the serious, and it all adds up to a fine film about ordinary life.

Labels: mama at the movies, The Boys are Back

Who Does She Think She Is?, the terrific documentary about women trying to combine motherhood and artistic work, is coming out on DVD! I wrote about the film last year in my Mama at the Movies column. Here's an excerpt:

I hadn't really thought about the constraints of space and materials that visual artists work with until I watched Pamela Tanner Boll's moving new documentary Who Does She Think She Is? (2008), which introduces us to several mother-artists and asks why, when making art and raising children are both crucial for our culture, it is so hard to do both. The film wants us to know about these mothers making art, and it puts their stories in the larger context of all women artists. Like all women, women artists find their work less well-known and less well-compensated than the work of their male contemporaries. Like all mothers, mother artists endure isolation from their peers, sleep deprivation, and myriad claims on their time which make it difficult to continue their careers. But they do.

The filmmakers are celebrating the DVD release by organizing house parties around the country on November 8th. Want to join them? You can buy the DVD at a 10% discount with a special promotional code for Literary Mama and Food for Thought readers; just go the DVD online store and enter the promo code LitMama.

There's more info about the house party idea here and here. Check it out, and then gather your friends for a screening!

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, who does she think she is?

It was sea-creature month at the movies for me, first taking Eli to see the new Miyazaki film, Ponyo, and then watching The Secret of Roan Inish on my own. Here's an excerpt from my latest Mama at the Movies column:

With all the summer buzz about the new Hayao Miyazaki film, Ponyo (2009), I thought maybe this would be my son Ben's first movie-theater movie. He's been reluctant to go to the theater, cautious of the loud soundtrack and the sense of disappearing into the story (which of course I love). I showed both boys the trailer and Ben, not surprisingly, said "That looks like a movie I might want to watch at home on DVD." But his younger brother Eli wanted to go to the movies, and so while Ben was at school one day the two of us went to the theater together for the first time since he was a sling-riding baby who nursed while I dropped bits of popcorn on his head.

Please visit Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: john sayles, literary mama, mama at the movies, miyazaki, ponyo, roan inish

I have unabashedly, and with great success, manufactured an interest in the artist Andy Goldsworthy's sculpture in my children this summer; soon I'll post pictures of our trips to see Spire, Stone River, and Storm King Wall. But in the meantime, here's my latest Literary Mama column about watching the film about Goldsworthy's work, Rivers and Tides:

My family has spent a lot of time in museums lately; both boys love to draw and paint, so we often take them to see works by other artists. We don't stay long, but we'll look closely at a painting or two, talk about what materials the artist used, wonder whether the painting was made outside or in a studio. I lift Eli up so he can see better, and we stop in the gift shop for a postcard of our favorite. But San Francisco is the home of a different kind of artwork, too: sculptures by a Scottish artist named Andy Goldsworthy that offer a quite different experience. The boys have reached their arms around his tall redwood Spire, climbed up and over Stone River, walked like tight rope walkers, arms outstretched for balance, along the path of Drawn Stone. We've sat in the dirt beneath Spire with a gathered pile of sticks and built our own miniature version; we did the same with pebbles at Stone River. These pieces are alive and accessible to them in a way a painting can never be; and for a pair of energetic kids, they're just fun.

And so it occurred to me to show my kids the beautiful documentary about Andy Goldsworthy's work, Rivers and Tides.

You can read the full column at Literary Mama; I'd love to hear your comments.

image credit

Labels: andy goldsworthy, art, family life, mama at the movies

We interrupt this vacation blogging to announce that the latest Mama at the Movies column is now up at Literary Mama:

In the grand tradition of summer buddy movies, Sam Mendes' new movie Away We Go presents a couple who take to the road. They're not running from the law like Thelma and Louise or Manny & Lo, nor simply exploring, like the guys in Sideways; like road trippers from Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz to Bree and Toby in Transamerica, Verona and Burt are trying to get home. The difference here is that they don't know where home might be. Verona is six months pregnant, and the couple reminds me of Mr. and Mrs. Mallard in Make Way for Ducklings: they're looking for a good place to raise their baby.

Please click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: away we go, literary mama, mama at the movies

I found unexpected Father's Day fodder in the films Mary Poppins and Finding Neverland; here's an excerpt from my latest column:

As my family counts down the days to a summer trip to London, I decided to prepare my sons the way I know best: by watching movies about the place. Of course, my choices might not be the most realistic visions of the city, but we're not ready for A Clockwork Orange or The Elephant Man here (we may never be). I wanted to show them the London created by my childhood reading, the London of corner flower shops, chimney sweeps, and nursery tea, the London of Mary Poppins. I'm planning to read the books with the boys on our trip, but at home we started with Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke in Robert Stevenson's 1964 musical film.

You can click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: father's day, finding neverland, literary mama, mama at the movies, mary poppins

For those of you in San Francisco and near by, don't miss the screening next week of Who Does She Think She Is?, the documentary by Pamela Tanner Boll which profiles several mother-artists; the film will play at the Red Vic Movie House on Haight Street, Wednesday June 10th (2, 7:15, 9:15 PM) and Thursday June 11th (7:15, 9:15 PM). Pamela Tanner Boll will be present for Q&A following screenings Wednesday at 2:00, 7:15 and Thursday at 7:15.

I'm just a little bit of fond of this film, as you may be aware; my column on it is here, and my interview with the director, Pamela Boll, is here. The film's not out on dvd yet, so make the trip out to see it on the big screen!

Labels: mama at the movies, who does she think she is?

As a college student, I interned with Women Make Movies, an organization that helps female filmmakers at every stage of their projects. I caught a glimpse of how difficult it was for women to get their stories to the screen, but I never saw into these women’s private lives, didn’t know if any were mothers; now that I’m a mother myself, I think about the intersection of motherhood and creativity all the time. So after I watched and wrote about the documentary, Who Does She Think She Is?, which profiles several mother-artists, I decided to interview the woman behind the film, director Pamela Tanner Boll. The result of that conversation has been published at Literary Mama this week; here's a brief excerpt:

Caroline: How do you write a documentary film? Do you start with a loose script and then adapt based on interviews? Are there certain questions you have in mind before you begin, or do you leave yourself open?

Pam: I did not "write" the documentary until we began editing. I had a very firm conviction that I would follow these awesome amazing women as they made their way through their days, their art studios, their breakfast dishes, and errands, and loneliness and see what happened.

I wanted to stay open to the story. I did have certain questions, the main one being, what made it possible for these women to not give up on their dreams? What made it possible for each of them to believe in their voice, their talent, their truth despite lack of support and often, little recognition?

Caroline: Who are some filmmakers and writers you admire, or who influences your work?

Pam: I am more influenced by writers than filmmakers. I grew up reading, reading, reading. Some of my favorite books and authors are Virginia Woolf, especially ; George Eliot’s ; by Zora Neale Hurston; , just to name a few.

I was an avid movie watcher all throughout my childhood and early adult years. I loved all the Walt Disney films and the Tarzan series with Johnny Weismuller and Bonanza -- big family dramas.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, movies, who does she think she is?

I always imagined that my kids and I would watch loads of movies together. We would start at home with sweet animated features like Toy Story or movies I loved as a kid, like The Red Balloon. Then as they got older, we would go out regularly, settling in with our salty buckets of popcorn to watch the latest family flick. It hasn't worked out like that, though. Ben, at seven, has only seen one movie in a theater, a special screening of The Polar Express for a friend's birthday. He lasted about ten minutes before he came out to the lobby, overwhelmed; the loud soundtrack and the huge projected images were just too much for him. Meanwhile, although I managed a few mom and baby movies when Eli was still a tiny nursling, I had to quit those screenings before he was nine months old; instead of sleeping quietly while I caught up on the latest releases, he wanted to watch and chat with the figures on screen. At four, he's happy to watch the same movies at home that Ben has been watching for years: Curious George; Toy Story; The Little Prince. But I'm getting bored, and wanted to find something new that might suit their very different temperaments.

Read the rest of the column over at Literary Mama!

Labels: family life, literary mama, mama at the movies, the iron giant

A couple days after my first son's birth, I walked down the street of our busy neighborhood with my baby in a sling, awestruck. Everybody I looked at, I realized, every child, every adult, had come out of a woman's body. I walked home slowly, mind-boggled at the wonder of it all. I was still a little stunned by my short, hard labor, and felt like I had been initiated into an amazing new society; I wanted to tell my birth story to anyone who would listen, and wanted to hear other women's stories. Now, nearly four years after I gave birth to my second son, I still often find myself in groups of women that drift into sharing birth stories; we commiserate over past pains, cheer for supportive attendants, and, as we tell our stories, come to a better understanding of this sometimes joyous, sometimes traumatic, always transformative event.

Better understanding is the impulse behind the documentary, The Business of Being Born (2008). Producer Ricki Lake, unhappy with the interventions she experienced during her first child's birth, set out to research American birth practices. She and director Abby Epstein (who became pregnant during the filming) dig up incredible documentary footage and still photos to create an informative, gripping film that should interest anyone concerned with healthcare in the United States, especially parents and parents-to-be.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: business of being born, literary mama, mama at the movies, movies, ricki lake

Coraline's life is a nightmare.

She's the new girl in town, an only child living in a creaky, leaky-windowed flat in a remote house at the top of a bare and ugly hill. Her neighbors -- except for an annoying, talkative boy named Wybie -- are old and eccentric. Her parents write about gardening but can't be bothered to plant any flowers to beautify their uninviting surroundings, and they are too absorbed in work to pay any attention to their daughter.

Like a certain young Dorothy before her, Coraline, the main character of the gorgeous, scary, definitely-not-for-young-kids new animated film (Henry Selick, 2009) based on Neil Gaiman's popular young adult novel, feels neglected and bored.

click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: coraline, henry selick, mama at the movies, neil gaiman

My latest column is up now at Literary Mama:

When I first learned I was pregnant, I started a journal on my computer; seven months into the project, my hard drive crashed and the most detailed journal I had ever kept was lost. Since then, I fill Italian paper notebooks that I buy in bulk at a local art store; I keep one next to my bed with a pen marking my place and the journals from earlier years are piled on a low shelf of my bedside table. If I ever had to flee the house, I would scoop the journals up on my way to get the kids.

I do this for myself, to keep hold of my sons' fleeting childhoods and to make sense of my life. I reread the journals frequently. I am a researcher searching for patterns, seeking context or comfort in the midst of challenging periods, and I am a writer looking for anecdotes for my public writing. But I wonder sometimes, what will become of this private record when I'm gone? Will my children preserve it? Do I want them to read it? Will their children be interested in their grandmother's life?

The documentary film Must Read After My Death (Morgan Dews, 2009) has me thinking about these questions of legacy and privacy more pointedly than usual. Filmmaker Morgan Dews composed the film entirely of the 300 pages of transcripts, fifty hours of audio diaries and Dictaphone letters, and 201 silent home movies he discovered after his grandmother Allis's death; the boxes were all carefully labeled in thick black marker with her initials and a message: "Must Read After My Death." The film makes a searing portrait of a typical American family, one that slips gradually, mysteriously, from happy to tragic while they all unwittingly document the change.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest...

Labels: documentaries, literary mama, mama at the movies

Eli is standing by the side of my bed in his pjs, clutching his patch blanket, Little Blue Bear, Moosie, and his small pottery train engine. He is angling for some Saturday morning television. "Let's watch the goose movie again, Mama!"

"Yeah!" adds Ben, walking down the hall, "Let's watch the goose movie!"

"Do you want to watch any of the story," I ask groggily, "or just the geese and planes?"

"Geese and planes!" they chorus happily, "Geese and planes!"

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest!

Labels: airplanes, family life, fly away home, literary mama, mama at the movies

I've been busy this December, with a good week's vacation in snowy Connecticut with my entire family (some pictures here) followed by three days at the annual Modern Language Association convention, reporting on the proceedings for Inside Higher Ed. You can read those articles here:

MLA Realities: Then and Now

The Quest for Balance and Support

Caring for Children and Their Parents

In the midst of all that, I watched an incredible documentary about how a group of Muslim and Christian women worked together to end Liberia's fourteen-year civil war. Here's an excerpt:

Ben and his friend were in the bedroom playing war. Because they are the kinds of boys they are, the game involved Legos and negotiation of the rules but very little discernible war play. Still, because I am the kind of mom I am, I suggested some other more friendly narratives in which to involve their Legos. Then three year-old Eli, who had been listening attentively to all sides of the conversation, shouted out his peace plan:

"All war, go home! Have dinner! Go to sleep!"

We laughed (me a bit ruefully) at Eli's naiveté, but when I saw the new documentary Pray the Devil Back to Hell (Gini Reticker, 2008) I reconsidered Eli's approach.

You can read the rest of the column over at Literary Mama.

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, mama phd

My late father-in-law was an artist. After attending art school on the G. I. Bill, he and his wife moved to Italy for two years so that he could paint and study. When the couple returned to California, his career blossomed with several shows a year, including a solo exhibition at San Francisco's M. H. de Young Memorial Museum. But then his public career quieted, his output slowed; he shifted to smaller, more saleable projects like jewelry and jigsaw puzzles. I never understood this sharp turn in a successful career – had there been a devastating review? – until my first child was born and it occurred to me one day to map Jim's career against his children's birthdates. And there it was: sons born in 1967 and 1969; a rush of shows in 1969 and then fewer and fewer until just two in 1972, one in '76, and then nothing for twenty years. It wasn't the critics, I realized, but the kids.

.....

I hadn't really thought about the constraints of space and materials that visual artists work with until I watched Pamela Tanner Boll's moving new documentary Who Does She Think She Is? (2008), which introduces us to several mother-artists and asks why, when making art and raising children are both crucial for our culture, it is so hard to do both. The film wants us to know about these mothers making art, and it puts their stories in the larger context of all women artists. Like all women, women artists find their work less well-known and less well-compensated than the work of their male contemporaries. Like all mothers, mother artists endure isolation from their peers, sleep deprivation, and myriad claims on their time which make it difficult to continue their careers. But they do.

Read more at Literary Mama!

Labels: art, mama at the movies, mothering, who does she think she is?

The first I heard about the movie Baby Mama was when our accountant emailed this poster over and said "They stole your cover design!" Well, I don't think we had a monopoly on the use of alphabet blocks, but still it somehow triggered a teeny sense of totally unreasonable resentment toward the movie, and that, coupled with a busy summer, meant I never got out to see it.

And then Sarah Palin was nominated for VP, and Tina Fey made Saturday Night Live relevant again, and I thought it might be worth checking out her movie. I wrote about it this week for Literary Mama; here's an excerpt:

I lost sleep over the election. Partly because of my investment in the outcome, certainly, but also because for the first time since I was in my 20s, I regularly stayed up past my bedtime watching Tina Fey's sharp Sarah Palin on Saturday Night Live. So when my family planned a relaxing weekend away with another family, I thought Fey's recent comedy Baby Mama would be a good rental to toss in the bag. After a busy day at the pumpkin patch, we settled the kids into their beds and settled ourselves in front of the TV, prepared to be entertained.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest! and while you're there, check out columnist Karen Murphy's newest installment of Motherhood from Afar; Elrena Evan's Stepping Stones; Ona Gritz on Getting to Yes; and finally, if your kids are anything like mine, you're still answering dozens of questions about the election, so check out Libby Gruner's thoughts on political picture books in Running for Office.

Labels: columns, literary mama, mama at the movies, movies

OK, I realize I've been ignoring the blog a bit lately, but it's been a busy time spreading the news about Mama, PhD. So I'm delighted to stop talking about that book (just for a moment) to announce the publication of my essay, "Wonderful Life," in the new anthology, (Health Communications, Inc). The book is one-stop Christmas shopping, with essays, stories, recipes, pictures and advice on how to get through what can be a stressful holiday without losing sight of the magic. I've never shared space in a book with a martini recipe before, and I am well pleased. My piece is based on my Literary Column on It's A Wonderful Life; here's an excerpt:

Christmas Eve, 2002

It's my first Christmas as a mom, and I as sit rocking infant Ben to sleep in the darkened room, I realize that the ubiquitous Christmas telecast of It's A Wonderful Life (Frank Capra, 1946) is flickering on the ancient television. The sound is muted, but I remember the dialogue. George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart) has just learned that Uncle Billy misplaced the day's deposit, and despite sacrificing his whole life for the Building & Loan, George is ruined. He can't listen to his wife Mary cheerfully prattle on about their daughter Zuzu's cold. He rages about the money spent on the doctor, their money-pit of a drafty house: "I don't know why we don't all have pneumonia!"

Ben stirs in his sleep and cries out. I hold my breath as I adjust his IV, which has tangled around my arm and pulled taut. I touch my lips to his sweaty head and he relaxes back into sleep. I exhale, relieved to have avoided another cycle of the anguished cries that raise his fever and bring the nurses running with another round of invasions.

We have pneumonia.

Go pick up a copy of to read the rest!

Labels: family life, holidays, mama at the movies, reading, writing

My new column's up at Literary Mama; here's an excerpt:

Ben first became interested in politics last winter, when his kindergarten teacher organized a peace march to celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday. The kids painted posters and made a wandering parade down to the Fillmore district of San Francisco, singing "Happy Birthday" and chanting "What do we want? Peace! When do we want it? Now!"

Now, Ben divides politicians into two camps: those who uphold MLK's principles, and those who don't. He has decided Obama is his candidate, will argue his opinion with his classmates, and has dedicated his sidewalk lemonade stand to raise money for the campaign. I only wish he could vote.

Instead, we've been reading political picture books like Gloria for President, and I'm keeping my eye out for movies about elections that are appropriate for kids. I had high hopes for the documentary I saw recently, What's Your Point, Honey? (Amy Sewell--writer of Mad Hot Ballroom--and Susan Toffler, 2008), but it's too talky for my young kids. Still, I think it would make a good conversation-starter to watch with boys and girls about ten and up.

Read the rest over at Literary Mama, where you can also read Violeta Garcia-Mendoza's new column about starting preschool, Multi-Culti Mami, and new fiction, creative nonfiction, and a terrific new reading list, too!

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies

I'm way behind on my "movie minutes" posts, and will update soon, since I've seen lots of good (Frozen River) and bad (The Women) lately. But in the meantime, it was nice to get back to writing my column this month with a reminiscence of our trip to Paris this summer. Here's an excerpt:

When the chance came to spend a week in Paris this summer, my mind filled with visions of Nutella crepes, red wine at sidewalk bistros, and sunset walks along the Seine.

"What Paris, Mama?" three-year-old Eli asked, bringing me back down to earth and replacing my romantic thoughts with more prosaic concerns: getting two kids through a 10-hour flight; finding vegetarian food in the land of steak frites; navigating the Metro. We needed to prepare.

You can read the rest of my column, plus Stephanie Hunt's gorgeous column, Core Matters, a swan song from 12-Step Mama, and lots of terrific fiction and creative nonfiction, over at Literary Mama.

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, movies, paris

My latest movie column, on Autism: The Musical, is up now, and I urge you -- even if you think the movie has nothing to do with you -- to take a look. It's a terrific and eye-opening film. Here's a blurb from my column:

Elaine, Hillary, Roseanne and Dianne are some of the mothers of autistic children we meet in the stunning new documentary, Autism: The Musical (Tricia Regan, 2007). Elaine brings them together at The Miracle Project, a theater and movement program she has founded to help her son Neal and other autistic kids learn to communicate their feelings and to control their impulses, but most of all, "to have a great time, [to] feel great."

Also, check out "A Vinyl Batgirl Notebook" by Mama, PhD contributor Jessica Smartt Gullion; the essay offers a funny glimpse into the daily balancing act of being a writer and a mother (I don't know a thing about that). Here's a blurb:

"The kids are fighting again: 'She keeps goin' in my room!' 'He hitted me!' 'She push-ted me first!' 'Mama!' 'Mama!' I wipe a Clorox-coated rag across the blue paint-splattered pattern of my kitchen counters and wonder for the thousandth time what kind of person would choose this design."

Labels: literary mama, literary reflections, mama at the movies

What do you think of when you think "family film?" For me, it's the Herbie the Love Bug movies that my parents took us to in the early 70s. I confess I don't remember a thing about the plot of these flicks, but I remember a late summer evening's drive to a movie theater, all six of us piled into the car, and I remember being happy. When I was a little older, we all saw Star Wars together in Ogunquit, Maine; it was the opening weekend, and the six of us couldn't all sit together (as I recall, my brothers sat on the stage directly in front of the screen, their heads tipped back to watch). I was more into the experience -- the crowd, the excitement -- than the story on the screen. And we all saw Airplane together, too (why, I wonder?), when I was old enough to be embarrassed to be seen at the movies with my parents.

We watched movies together at home more often. I loved staying home from school when I was little (before my mom returned to work) because we'd watch Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies together. We watched James Bond movies, which when I think back on it were entirely inappropriate -- but probably most of the R content was over my head, anyway. We watched nutty 40s capers, like Kind Hearts and Coronets. We watched Spencer Tracy/Katherine Hepburn movies. And of course we watched The Wizard of Oz and The Sound of Music every year on television, too.

Of course when I was a kid, I didn't think much about the difficulty of "family movies." We watched movies together. With four kids 8 years apart, probably one of us was always a little bored and someone else probably didn't entirely get it, but no one complained because it was still nice to all be doing the same thing. Well, I should amend that: I didn't complain, because as the youngest, I was always just grateful when my older siblings were doing something with me! That's more accurate.

It's a little easier with my guys today. The "family movie" options are greater, and the boys are close enough in age that they can watch the same things, so we've watched The Sound of Music together (once in the ER) -- a good family film despite (for now; someday because of) the Nazi plot (they don't ask about the war themes , and I don't volunteer.) We've watched Toy Story a lot, which is probably the household favorite right now; we've watched Enchanted once. But even most of these films have elements the boys don't get, or I don't want them to get. It's hard to get a family movie right for everyone in the family.

A Plumm Summer is a new family movie opening this weekend, and MotherTalk and Mom Central are trying to spread the word. I'm all in favor of helping out a little independent film, and this one's got a great cast (Henry Winkler and Peter Scolari were my favorites) with a sweetly nostalgic voice-over by Jeff Daniels. The film's set in 1968, and based on the true story of what happened in a small Montana town when the beloved Froggy Doo, a "Superstar puppet," in David Brinkley's words, was stolen. It's a story of brothers, which of course interests me a lot these days, and about how their parents are managing their difficult path from sweethearts to partners. It's got a bit of Scooby Doo feel to it, as the kids run circles around the FBI trying to solve the mystery of who stole Froggy Doo. Some of the themes and scenes are too heavy for my boys, but I'll save it till they're older. If you have kids in the 8-12 range, it might well make a good family outing for you.

Labels: family life, mama at the movies, mothertalk

This month, in search of something light, I decided to watch a fairy tale with my boys:

"Mama, what's a magical kingdom? Why is the queen evil? Why will she lose her power if her stepson gets married? What's true love's kiss?" We were barely through the opening credits of Enchanted (Kevin Lima, 2007) and I had to pause for a quick fairy tale run-down. Of course, neither of my boys has any problem with some of the common elements of the filmed fairy tale, the richly animated world in which animals talk and plants participate in human life, and they are beginning to hear stories with good guys and bad guys. But the particular spin of a fairy tale, in which children are generally motherless, struggling to protect themselves against a new family member (the evil stepmother) was new to them, and troubling.

Read the rest over at Literary Mama. And while you're there, check out the other new columns, new fiction, creative nonfiction, and a great reading list to take to your local bookstore!

Labels: disney, fairy tales, literary mama, mama at the movies

This month's movie is no feel-good date night escape, but it is one of most moving and intelligent films I've seen in ages. Here's an excerpt from my new column:

Washing my hands in the theater bathroom after watching the new film 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (Cristian Mungiu, 2007), I noticed I have a lot of gray hair. Maybe I should be grateful that the dim lighting in my house has been keeping this revelation from me. Somehow without my noticing, the blonde that has always lightened the brown has gone several shades lighter. The movie made me realize another subtle way that I've aged: it used to be, I'd watch a movie like this, about two women in their twenties, and identify with them. Now I wonder what I'd do if I were their mom.

4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days is set in Romania, 1987, and follows a pair of friends over the course of a single day. It opens in their dorm room as they're preparing for a trip; they don't seem happy about it, but it's easy at first to chalk their mood up to their living conditions: the dingy and crowded room; the talk of using Palmolive for shampoo; the hunt for cigarettes in black market shops operated out of other dorm rooms, where the girls can buy half-packets of birth control pills and nail polish, too. Gabriela frets about whether to bring her notes so that she can study while they're away; Otilia tells her brusquely that there'll be no time. Gabriela complains of a toothache, moans that her stomach feels weird; Otilia, tense and losing patience with her friend's fretful inactivity, snaps at her. She goes over the plan for Gabriela: the money, the possibility of bribes, the meeting place, and it gradually becomes clear that the pair isn't going on vacation, but arranging an abortion for Gabriela.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest.

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, movies

At school the other morning, as Eli and I were saying good bye to Ben, already settled into a drawing project, a boy walked over and pushed Ben off his chair. Ben was too surprised to talk and even I needed a moment to gather myself before speaking gently to the child, who somehow, in the clueless, bulldozing way of some kindergartners, just hadn't seen Ben. Ben and I talked about it later, cuddled cozily on the couch, with Eli dancing around us recalling the drama: "Dat boy pushed Benno," he recounted wide-eyed, the surprise still fresh in his voice. "No push people. Push swings."

It's so simple right now, as perhaps a rule-bound two year-old can convey best; and when the rules of polite society are tested by its youngest members, it's easy enough for a parent to intercede. This week, it was just a rambunctious boy who didn't see my kid, but I worry about the day someone does see my kid and pushes him anyway. Oh, I know, the world generally treats blonde boys very well, thank you very much, so I teach my boys to wear their privilege respectfully. And yet, Ben's a smart boy in a culture that doesn't really pride itself on intelligence; a vegetarian in a meat-eating society; an awkward body in a world that expects boys to run gracefully and handle balls fluidly. He's a quirky bird, and like any parent, I want to help my child learn to be himself regardless of how the world reacts to him.

My thoughts about Ben were cast into sharp perspective when I watched the beautiful and moving new Persepolis (Vincent Paronnaud and Marjane Satrapi, 2007). Based on Satrapi's graphic novel, Persepolis is a memoir of her childhood in Tehran during the Revolution, and her lonely adolescence, exiled without her family, in Vienna. The film is largely in black and white (and a thousand gorgeous shades of gray), animated simply, and in French (depending on where you live, your theater will play a subtitled version like I saw, or one with an English voice-over track), all of which, I know, screams "Art-y!" But instead of being distancing, those often off-putting elements combine to create a film that's so funny and real, of such quiet beauty and emotional resonance, I didn't want to move after it was over, lest I break its spell.

Read more of my latest column over at Literary Mama!

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, movies, persepolis

Atonement: There was one moment in this otherwise too-dramatic-for-me film that I found moving, when the wrongly imprisoned young man, about to head to France to serve the rest of his jail term fighting in World War Two, meets with his young love and reaches a trembling hand out to touch her hand. That was it. At the end of the movie, when Vanessa Redgrave shows up to play the aged writer, the woman whose story had sent a man to jail and to war, I caught a glimpse of how interesting the novel must be. But I didn't think the film was, very.

Winter Passing: The premise of this sounded so intriguing. An editor contacts the grown daughter of two esteemed writers, offering her $100,000 for publication rights to their love letters. The daughter, who is down and out, grieving the recent death of her mother and estranged from her father, thinks this might be an easy way to make some money, and goes home to collect the letters. Her father is a drunk and mired in writer's block; one of his students, a woman somewhat younger than his daughter, lives with him as his cook and housekeeper (she's thankfully not too fawning, nor does she seem to be sleeping with him -- which would have been a tired old eww!), while Will Ferrell works as his handyman and security guard. If you love Will Ferrell, then maybe you could get past Ed Harris as the annoying cliche of the wild alcoholic writer, because Ferrell's performance is compelling and nuanced. But I don't love Will Ferrell enough. This is one of those movies that referred to, but did not tell, the story that interested me: the mom! What did she write, and what was her relationship with her daughter like, and what was her marriage like, and what did she write? What did she write?!? Oh, well.

My Kid Could Paint That: Oh, this one kept Tony and me up talking way past our bedtime! This is a documentary about Marla Olmstead, a child who paints. Because her father is a painter, and he wanted to get some work done one day, he gave her a canvas, some paints and brushes, and got to work while his daughter covered her canvas with a bright, abstract, typical preschool painting. Except, you know, on a proper canvas with quality paints, so it looked really, really good. A friend saw it and asked to hang it in his cafe, where a gallery owner saw it and asked if there were more, and before long, four year-old Marla Olmstead had a show. And then buyers. And then another show. And then some press. And then some very big sales. And then of course came the skeptics, led by 60 Minutes, to suggest that her daddy was really directing, if not in fact just doing, the paintings himself.

But the "Is she or isn't she?" question wasn't really the question that interested me so much. First, there's the problem of abstract art (which we happen to be fans of in this house), and people's strong reactions against it: It's too easy; anyone can throw paint on a canvas and say "It's a painting!" It doesn't tell a story. It's impossible to evaluate its quality (because of its refusal to represent "reality"). It thumbs its nose at the viewer as if to say, If you don't like me, it's because you're not smart enough to get me. In the documentary, the strongest voice against abstract art happens to be the gallery owner representing Marla, a photo-realist painter who devotes months to a single painting and is peeved at how quickly she produces work. But not peeved enough to avoid making a buck on it.

But what made Tony and me both really sad was one tiny moment toward the end of the film, when Marla is painting and asks her dad to paint with her. And because of the skeptics, and because of all the money involved, he has to say no. The minute he kneels down to paint a picture with his little girl, the whole structure of her career collapses. But it seemed to me that their family had collapsed in some important way already, without their even noticing.

Persepolis: I thought the were very good, though they didn't knock me out (they'd been built up too much, I'm afraid). But at the risk of building up anticipation for the film too much, I thought it was spectacular. Here's a rare instance when translating a book to film opens it up and deepens it; rather than the flat black & white images on the page (which are quite moving in their simplicity), the film gives you black & white and a thousand shades in between, moving subtly on screen, with incredible depth and beauty. Yes, the story's been simplified a bit, but the film tells such a compelling story, I had to sit in the theater a while after it had emptied out and collect myself before I could leave.

Labels: mama at the movies, movies, writing

My, there's quite a lot of ink being shed on this film! And my little column doesn't cover all I could say about it, either, but here's an excerpt from my contribution to the conversation:

The best thing the new movie Juno (Jason Reitman, 2007) achieves as it traces the impact of one teenager's unplanned pregnancy is its refusal to shy away from the complexities and odd juxtapositions of life; in fact, it embraces them, insisting that we look at the messiness of relationships, the rapidly shifting peaks and valleys of emotional intelligence, so that we can begin to understand how a smart girl could have sex without birth control and how a sensitive girl could give a child up for adoption. When sixteen year-old Juno MacGuff (Ellen Page) discovers she's pregnant, she puts her head in a noose -- made out of licorice ropes (she frees herself by taking a savage bite). When she contacts a clinic to arrange an abortion, she makes the call on a hamburger-shaped telephone. Her boyfriend, the father of her child, sleeps in a racecar-shaped bed. As Juno responds when her dad asks where she's been, "Out dealing with things way beyond my maturity level."

You can read the rest of my column here at Literary Mama. And while you're there, check out some of our other columns and a new book review, too!

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies, movies, writing

Thanks for the suggestions on the Amazon boxes! I have written Amazon customer service to suggest that they could have used one less box, and broken down the boxes (all too big to mail my PIF books, alas; I need to be giving away more and bigger books, apparently). We didn't build a fort with these, but will save them in case one of the birthday boys this spring wants a rocket or train-building party.

And thanks even more for the words of sympathy and concern about Eli's encounter with the new book case (this is what we get for unpacking all our books from the nice, soft, cardboard boxes). Ten of Eli's stitches came out last week. He was stoic, saying only afterwards that "the teeny-tiny scissors hurt a teeny-tiny bit." One of the dissolving stitches has dissolved, and one's still hanging on, like an umbilical cord stump that won't drop.

And, finally, as for my movie-watching binge, I wound up writing a column on Juno. Look for it at Literary Mama next week.

Labels: family life, mama at the movies, movies, writing

Edited to add: I try to write the column without giving away anything about the plot for those of you who haven't seen the film yet!

The guys and I traveled east for Thanksgiving, to my parents' cozy Connecticut home deep in the woods. I spent the weekend surrounded by family and food -- my favorite way to spend a few days. Occasionally my dad organized a work party to move a pile of wood; he cuts and splits the trees that fall in the woods, and we all work like a bucket brigade to move the logs from the woods to various spots on the rough-mowed lawn, and from there to the garage, so that my parents can heat their home all winter. The rest of the time, this time of year, we stay inside reading, writing, cooking, eating, talking talking talking.

So it's a sharp contrast, indeed, to think about Into the Wild, the film I wrote about for Literary Mama this month. Its subject, Chris McCandless, decided to abandon civilization for a while and trek deep into the Alaskan back country. When I posted a draft of the column to the Literary Mama columnists' group, it generated a great discussion about "guy" movies and "chick flicks," and whether men are more likely to head into the wild than women. In my experience, among my friends and my own family, it's the men who have stayed relatively close to their families and the women who, for various reasons, have moved away. I traveled from New York to California for grad school, met Tony, and never moved back. Hence my cross-country journey to visit my family.

It's hard for me to imagine my boys ever having an independent life, let alone an independent life cut off from mine, but this movie made me think sadly about that. To distract myself from that line of thought, I focused on the sibling relationship, as depicted in the film and as I see it in my family. I hope that if my boys do ever choose to leave me, that at least they won't leave each other.

Here's a blurb from the column:

At home [months after Chris's disappearance], his parents' anger softens into pain and [his sister] wonders why he doesn't get in touch with her; "the weight of Chris's disappearance," she says, "had begun to lay down on me full length." Her words rocked me out of my Alaskan reverie to think about my own family. I've got two older brothers living 3,000 miles away. We may not talk every week or even every two, but I know that when I call, they'll call back. We'll connect. I thought about Carine McCandless and how I'd feel if one of my brothers just . . . left. Nothing on the surface of my life would look much different, but I'd walk with a persistent ache no doctor could ever heal.

And then my thoughts turned to my boys, young brothers who wriggle like puppies together in the oldest one's bed each night. I thought about Eli, who from the time he could talk has called Ben "Buh-buh," for "Brother Ben," the sharp urgency in his voice now when he calls out "Ben!", about how bereft he'd be if that call went unanswered one day. I thought about how Ben runs to give Eli a hug before we leave his kindergarten classroom each morning, and then bends down gently to give Eli a kiss on the cheek. I can’t bear to imagine them losing each other. To move into adulthood having lost the shared history and understanding created with a brother or sister would permanently cloud one’s days.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest, and let me know what you think.

Labels: family life, literary mama, mama at the movies

Manny & Lo is an old favorite of mine, a film I used to teach in my Women's Studies classes and the occasional film class, too. I listed it in my original column pitch to Literary Mama, and it took me a year and a half to get around to it. And then of course, by the time I sat down to write about it, all the stuff I used to focus on when I taught the film -- in my prior life, before I had kids -- flew out of my head and I saw it a completely new way. So here's what it makes me think about now:

When I was first pregnant, I dreamt my baby was a girl. She was beautiful in my dreams, with my husband's blonde hair and blue eyes. But, nightmarishly, she was also a teenager, one of the popular ones. I woke in a cold sweat at the thought of producing a "mean girl," like those that had so intimidated me in high school. I ended up having a boy, but I still think sometimes about what a daughter of mine might be like, about how I'd mother her. And I think about that particularly when I watch a movie like Manny & Lo (Lisa Krueger, 1996), about two tough girls who could use some mothering.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest.

Labels: mama at the movies, manny and lo

It's not been the easiest couple days, so tonight Tony offered to take the boys/kicked me out of the house, and after a happy hour browsing some downtown stores, I found myself buying a ticket for Gone Baby Gone, the new film directed by Ben Affleck.

Now, I was frankly too scared to see Mystic River, the last movie based on a Dennis Lehane novel, so it's not like I thought this latest, about a child's abduction, would make for a fun evening. But the reviews had intrigued me, and I thought it might be column fodder.

Well, the problem is, I can't really write about it until every last one of you goes to see the movie. So go, now, watch the movie. It's dark (of course), and subtle, and thought-provoking, and offers two of the best performances, by Casey Affleck, as an investigator, and Amy Ryan, as the child's mother, I've seen in a while. It's not going to give me nightmares, like I'd feared, but it is keeping me thinking.

So go, see the movie, and then let me know so that we can talk.

Labels: mama at the movies

My Literary Mama column this month is about Barbara Kopple's documentary, Shut Up and Sing. Here's a blurb:

Four years ago, I nursed my first son with over one thousand other nursing mothers at a world-record breaking Berkeley "nurse-in."

This year, my boy hops down the sidewalk into kindergarten.

Four years ago, the war in Iraq was in its infancy and President Bush's approval ratings were sky-high.

This year, a growing and non-partisan chorus criticizes our involvement in Iraq, while the president stubbornly limps toward the end of his misguided term.

Four years ago, the Dixie Chicks began a world tour with a number one hit single, "Travelin' Soldier," about a girl who longs for her beau to return from Vietnam. The single dropped off the charts when lead singer Natalie Maines remarked in concert, "Just so you know, we're on the good side with y'all. We do not want this war, this violence, and we're ashamed that the President of the United States is from Texas."

This year -- just days ago as I write this column -- Sally Field accepts an Emmy award saying (in a line bleeped from the American telecast, but heard on Canadian television), "... if the mothers ruled the world there would be no goddamn wars in the first place."

I am a mother who hates war and violence, and loves movies and music. Shut Up and Sing (Barbara Kopple and Cecilia Peck, 2006) gives me a lot of what I care about in a film. It's no date-night romance, true, but this documentary, which details the impact of Natalie Maines' remark on the Dixie Chicks' music, their families, and our culture, has me singing its praises.

Read the rest at Literary Mama. And while you're there, check out the new Literary Reflections essay, Little Finch, as well as the beautiful new column, Me and My House, by my Mama, PhD co-editor, Elrena Evans.

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies

This month I watched (and wrote about) My Neighbor Totoro and Whale Rider, two movies worth watching with the kids. Here's an excerpt:

When my book deadline led to my inevitable crash, Tony took the boys out to the zoo and I hunkered down on the couch with Eli's blanket, a cup of tea, and the remote control to see what Tivo had been watching for me. I went for comfort, first, with My Neighbor Totoro (Hayao Miyazaki, 1988), a film I've seen before, and then followed it up with one I'd missed when it first came out, Whale Rider (Niki Caro, 2002), creating an inadvertent and completely coincidental absent-mother double feature.

You can read the rest over at Literary Mama.

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies

Christopher Walken is my new favorite movie dad.

The creepy actor best-known for playing villains and psychopaths nearly steals Hairspray (Adam Shankman, 2007) away from the radiant Nikki Blonski (playing his daughter Tracy) and John Travolta, sadly underutilized in a gender-bending role as his wife, Edna. It’s Walken’s Wilbur, the only character not swathed in a cotton candy haze of makeup, sequins, and hairspray, whose strong presence gives Tracy and Edna the foundation for their helium-balloon performances.

Hairspray opens up in the clouds, and with a long, swooping pan the camera sails down into Baltimore and through the window of Tracy Turnblad’s bedroom. As the soundtrack thumps a steady beat, we see a shape wiggling in the bed, two bright eyes pop open, then two tapping feet emerge and slide into bunny slippers. This is the only time the camera looks at Tracy so closely, feature by feature; then it pulls back, and for the rest of the film, stays back so we can really appreciate the whole fabulous singing and dancing shape of her. She’s an Energizer bunny of a girl who belts out her first song before breakfast. I wondered if the film could maintain its high-octane opening; its energy flags only when it pauses for dialogue, but happily Hairspray is an unapologetic musical, taking few breaks for conversation.

Click on over to Literary Mama to read the rest of this month's column, and let me know what you think!

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies

This month: letter-writing and pie baking in Adrienne Shelly's lovely film, Waitress:

According to family history, when my aunt claimed, at a picnic, that her pie crust was better than her mother's, grandma threatened to throw the pie at her head. My mom kept quiet, just grateful that grandma had already imparted her pie crust secrets to her.

People take fierce pride in a fine, flaky pie crust, and in fact my mom's is so good that for years, I was too intimidated to attempt it myself. Pie crust isn't complicated, but unlike bread or cake, it is finicky and unforgiving. Handle it too much, or add too many drops of ice water, and it turns tough instead of toothsome. The best way to learn pie crust is to watch at someone's elbow (preferably of course a mother or a grandmother, who can tell you family stories while you bake) and then practice until you get the touch of it.

Jenna Hunterson (Keri Russell, expressing little of her Felicity-era perkiness) learned about pie-making from her mother, who'd bake Car Radio Pie or Jenna's First Kiss Pie while singing to her daughter. Now Jenna, the Waitress of Adrienne Shelly's nuanced and surprisingly funny film (2007), is stuck in a bad marriage to a childish husband and unhappily pregnant. Although she keeps baking the popular Marshmallow Mermaid and Chocolate Strawberry Oasis pies for the diner where she works, she's hoping to bake her way out of town and into a new life. Meanwhile, she can't stop imagining new pies, like Pregnant, Miserable, Self-pitying Loser Pie ("oatmeal and crumbled fruitcake, flambé of course") or Baby Screaming Its Head Off In the Middle of the Night and Ruining My Life Pie (a brandy-soaked cheesecake); her pies tell stories, but right now, they aren't such happy ones.

Read the rest at Literary Mama!

Labels: literary mama, mama at the movies

I wanted to write about a father this month -- Father's Day month -- for my movie column, and with all the baseball going on in our house lately, I thought a baseball movie would be appropriate, too. Besides, everything I know about baseball I learned from my dad.

But baseball + fatherhood + Hollywood = sappy, sentimental, movies. I could not get past the first twenty minutes of the first several baseball movies I tried. Then I watched Bull Durham (for the fifth or sixth time) to get the bad taste out of my mouth. Then I tried to write about Susan Sarandon's Annie, who -- when she's not tutoring young ball players is tutoring writers -- but the motherhood angle there is an impossible stretch and Kevin Costner's Crash as a father figure really doesn't work either.

But Annie the writing teacher and Kevin Costner triggered a memory for me, and I checked out Field of Dreams. Yes, this is another sentimental baseball movie but it does have a writer in it, played by James Earl Jones, and he proves instrumental in helping Kevin Costner's baseball-loving character reconcile with the idea of being a dad. So this, ultimately, is what I came up with; check it out and let me know what you think!

Labels: baseball, fathers, mama at the movies

Every other Thursday, I manage a day without children. I leave the house early to meet my writing group, allowing an hour to drive 17 miles through rush hour traffic. If I'm lucky I arrive in time to pick up some tea at the Peet's on the corner. We circle our metal folding chairs in a kindergarten classroom decorated with posters defining "community" and "friendship." Some of us bring our kids—the nursing toddler, the preschooler on vacation—and we set out crayons and Lincoln Logs to keep them occupied while we catch up on our personal and publishing news, then settle in to discuss and critique each other's writing. Even when I haven't shared my work, I leave after 90 minutes recharged and full of ideas for my own writing. I spend the afternoon holed up in a café with my laptop and my latte.

I've been feeling particularly grateful for my writing group since watching The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio (Jane Anderson, 2005), the true story of a woman who "raised ten kids on twenty-five words or less."

Read more of this month's column at Literary Mama.

Labels: mama at the movies, movies, writing

The first time I was pregnant and poring over name books, I quickly realized that naming a child is the one decision a couple makes that allows no room for compromise. If your favorite name happens to be the same as your partner's 3rd grade playground nemesis, that's it; you have to find another option. An old Saturday Night Live skit shows a couple arguing so fiercely about naming their baby -- each of them turning the other's suggestion into a playground taunt -- that they wind up divorcing.

The second time around, we had to at least pretend to consider our son Ben's suggestions, like "Telephone" and "Benna." Eventually we agreed on two girl's names and crossed our fingers that these would be enough. But I packed the name books in my hospital bag, just in case. In the pictures of us in the hospital after our second son's birth, a whiteboard listing various possibilities is visible in the background: Daniel; Josiah; Leo; Elijah. We left the hospital with our red-haired beauty still unnamed, and the hospital staff distressed. "What's really the problem with filing this paperwork later?" I asked. "Well," someone finally admitted, "If the baby doesn't have a name, it makes it harder for us to bill you."

Well then, I thought, I'll be rushing right back.

It took us three days to settle on Elijah, three days during which our friends and family -- all of whom had seen that whiteboard -- kindly kept their opinions to themselves.

This all came back to me when I went to see The Namesake (Mira Nair, 2006) with a friend who is expecting the birth of her second daughter any day. She and her husband haven't yet settled on a name (although their four year old lobbies hard for her choice by making elaborate drawings of the letter C) and as we waited for the lights to dim I thought of how often lately she and I have sat through to the very end of a film, reading the credits carefully in search of potential names.

Read the rest of the column here at Literary Mama.

Labels: family life, literary mama, mama at the movies