Years ago, I developed this theory about first and second generation weirdos, loosely based on the concept of first and second generation immigrant families. (Generally speaking, first generation immigrants are the ones who leave their homeland for the new country, while their children are sometimes the second generation.)

But in my mind, there's another second generation: the children of offbeat families. Our parents ventured from a different kind of other place: rejecting their mainstream American homeland for nontraditional lifestyles.

…And some of us offbeat second-genners are now having our own children, spawning a third generation…

Continue reading "First, second, and third generation offbeat families" →

When my daughter Violet was a young toddler, she had no use for dresses. She screeched and flailed around if I tried to put her in one. She was extremely physical. She walked early, she climbed anything in sight and she had no fear.

I liked it and dare I say, I was even “in your face” about it! She was an aggressive monkey, climbing around on everything, wearing her hair very short and always running ahead of everyone including the boys. “To hell with these people who raise the foofy-girly girls,” I told myself.

I have a picture of her on Santa's lap when she was 2 with a tear-stained face. I had cajoled her into wearing a fabulous red vintage hand-smocked dress for the occasion and she immediately threw a fit, demanding her pants. I felt guilty and I didn’t do this to her again, but I secretly did occasionally pine for putting her into a dress.

Continue reading "Saying goodbye to the princess phase" →

The first social reality of which I ever became aware was that my mother was the most embarrassing person on the entire planet.

She dressed loudly, spoke louder, and seemed never to have heard of make-up. She taught piano to poor children and senior citizens. She was a rebel with many causes and wouldn’t allow my sister or me to escape any of them. She burned dinner many a night.

When she attempted to sew me a pair of pants the pockets ended up at the ankles. When she lined up next to the perfect, well-coiffed stay-at home moms with whom she shared the P.T.A., I was certain that I had been cheated by having received a mama well below market-standards.

And so I rebelled.

Continue reading "Daughter of an offbeat mama" →