Thanks to photographer Lauren McGlynn for sharing this wonderful shot with me. She explains, "This is my friend Kate and her baby on her organic blueberry farm in North Carolina."

For two beautiful maternity shots from Lauren, keep reading…

Continue reading "Kate at the organic blueberry farm" →

bonnaroomama explains: "After my son was born, complications from my c-section left me hospitalized for about three weeks. My family worked very hard to keep my son near me and support my breastfeeding efforts."

It looks like despite those rough first three weeks, Bonnaroomama and her family have gone on to enjoy a rich life full of music festivals and good times:

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" →

I've completely fallen in a sweet kind of love with My Parents Were Awesome, one of those single-serving websites that does one thing and one thing only: share vintage shots of awesome parents, all submitted by their kids.

There's a full range of "awesome" represented here — from mellow hippie dads to groovy surfer parents to custom van fans to fabulous geeks.

My new goal: to show up on a site like this 30 years from now, maybe with a ridiculous shot like this? What photo would your kids submit?

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" →