I was sitting in a bookstore in Hollywood talking to Neal Pollack
and had just finished saying something stupid to a friend of his about
her shoes when Rebecca Woolf walked in. We were introduced and Neal
went on to tell me that Rebecca had just signed a book deal. She was
stunning so I only hated her for a moment. She talked briefly about the
book before being whisked away to give chase to her motherly duties.
Later,
while I was reading whatever it was I was reading, Rebecca and her son
Archer made a few laps around me and every time one of us would nod or
smile to the other, sometimes both. Archer was oblivious to me. I doubt
that Rebecca remembers any of that, but I do, because watching her and
her son made me feel guilty that I hadn't brought mine with me. Of
course an hour later I was sitting around a pitcher of margaritas with Jason Avant and Whiffleboy, my colleagues at DadCentric, and I was long over any remorse of paternal guilt.
Her book, Rockabye,
is now out, and upon reading it I was immediately hit by two things, a)
this isn't your typical parenting book, and b) I totally missed her
slut phase. I won't lie. The latter hurt a little.
If you read
Rebecca's blog(s) then you have an idea of what to expect from her
story. She is tough as she is tender and above all she is honest. Her
writing is welcoming, and she invites you to come in, have a drink,
take your shoes off and be comfortable in your own skin, and hers as
well.
It is a narrative of insight and understanding that allows the reader to relate and reflect.
For
instance: "Who are we to tame our children before they even understand
what it means to be wild? Who are we to limit their experience with our
own closed minds? And don't we remember what it felt like to be kids?
Because if I'm not mistaken, every single thing my mother told me not
to do I did. Twice."
Exactly. Yet, I have found myself doing
just that, trying to stay the inevitable when in truth I am only
delaying it, perhaps magnifying it. Her words made me stop and take a
breath. I do remember what it was like to be a kid, and still, it is
easy to forget. Too easy.
There is inspiration there, and it
continues throughout: "Martyrdom does not bring into the world children
with a strong sense of self. A mother who sacrifices her livelihood for
her children is risking not only her own loss of identity but also the
well-being of her children. No child deserves to be resented. It is
possible to do it all well."
And she does.
At least on
paper. She will be the first to admit that she is flawed, and rather
than hide her blemishes she has chosen to embrace them. They are, after
all, what makes us who we are.
Hers is the real world, and it is full of rainbows.
Read more from Rebecca at Girl's Gone Child and Straight form the Bottle. Buy Rockabye here or at a bookseller near you.
While browsing the shelves at our local Barnes and Noble, I happened upon the recently released paperback edition of Neal Pollack's magnus opus, Alternadad. As I always do, I picked up the book to read the review blurbs, and lo! what did I see, but a snippet of the review I gave back when the book was originally released! Me! In print! In an actual book! Sounding like some sort of literary critic! I immediately called Michiko Kakutani and asked him if we could be friends. He uttered something that sounded like "eat my fuck" and hung up on me. Still, I am in a geeky mood, and am considering buying a bunch of copies to send to my parents and everyone I know to prove to them that I'm not making up stories about people actually reading my blog. 
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