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Yes, we let them climb on the playhouse in the backyard unsupervised! Sue us.

OK, OK, not abandon them per se. (Jeez, Jane, way to write a provocative and misleading headline just to get people to read the post.) But at what age is it appropriate for them to leave the confines of your house or backyard unsupervised? Seven? Nine? Fourteen?

As the fabulous Madeline Holler wrote about over on Strollerderby and as my fellow Babble Voices blogger Stefanie-Wilder Taylor discussed/debated last night on the Dr. Drew show, last Saturday was national “Take Our Children to the Park…And Leave Them There” Day, as declared by Lenore Skenazy, author of Free Range Kids.

Skenazy suggested that parents drop their kids aged 7 or older off at a local park and let them play with other kids, unsupervised, for a while, arguing that experiences like this are important for kids — to foster their independence and to let them create the kind of fond childhood memories many of us have of being on our own. No planned activities, no hovering parents. Read more »

See how awesome I am, even in this ridiculous paper hat?

Yeah that’s right. You heard me.

As of last night, I am such an awesome mom that Michelle Obama is going to start calling herself “Second Mom” instead of “First Mom.” So awesome that “Parenting” Magazine is going to change its name to “Jane Roper Magazine.” So amazingly incredibly awesome that the editors of TIME magazine called me to personally apologize for even suggesting that I wasn’t “mom enough” on their recent cover. (“I hope you know we intended the question for everyone but you!” they said. And offered me a free year’s subscription; I declined.)

OK. Perhaps I am exaggerating a little.

OK, OK, I’m exaggerating *completely.* But do you ever have one of those moments when you feel like, damn, I rock at this parenting thing? When you feel like you’re in complete control and handling things exactly right? I’ve had approximately four of those moments since my children were born five years ago. And they’ve all been lovely.

The most recent one, which happened last night, went like this: Read more »

Back in December, I was saddened to read the story of Michal Lura Friedman, who died just hours after giving birth to healthy boy-girl twins, as a result of complications following her C-section.

As a mom of twins myself, I couldn’t help identifying with her, and as someone who knows what an immense challenge it is to parent newborn (infant, toddler, etc.) twins, my heart went out to her husband, who would be (and still is) doing it on his own while also dealing with the horrible grief of having lost his children’s mother.

When something hits close to home, and when you can identify with the people involved, it’s easy to feel the full weight of the tragedy. It’s harder to conjure up the same kind of sympathy when you hear about death in the abstract. But this Mother’s Day, I’m trying to. Read more »

It’s not quite as adorable as my daughters were when they were born, but it is awfully cute in its own way, what with the yellow cover and those little pink footprints. And I love the typeface.

Yes, sir, that’s my baby: my new memoir, Double Time: How I Survived — and Mostly Thrived — Through my First Three Years Mothering Twins. It’s about my pregnancy, my twin parenting adventures, my struggles with severe clinical depression, and my quest for work/life balance (as if there’s such a thing.) I’ve included some quick excerpts from the book below, along with some photos from way back in the early days. (And there’s also a chance to win a free copy.)

But before all of that, there’s something important I want to say.

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Like a lot of people of my generation, I grew up listening to Free to Be You and Me (on vinyl, of course). It was a project of the Ms. Foundation for Women, and used songs and stories to support the idea that kids — whether boys or girls — can be whoever they want to be and do whatever they want to do, regardless of gender. (In other words it was — gasp!! The horror! — a reflection of the feminist thinking of the 70s.) Read more »

It was only a matter of time, really. And I knew it would happen the way it did: They were making up silly rhymes. One of the girls said, “You smell like a duck!” The other said, “You smell like a buck!” and then, “You smell like a shmuck!” (I think I might have said that, actually …) Until eventually, well, you know how it ends.

I probably shouldn’t have said anything. In fact, I’m feeling sort of dumb about having done so at all. But when your dear, darling five-year-old daughter gleefully shouts that someone smells like a f*$k, it’s hard not to laugh / wince. (Lince?) And after my reaction, I felt the need to follow up. “I know you didn’t know this, Clio,” I said. “And you didn’t do anything wrong at all. But just so you know, that word is one of those words that’s for grownups to use, not kids.”

“Why?”

“Well,” I said, “it’s about grownup stuff. And it’s something grownups usually say when they’re really angry.” (Or excited? Drunk?) “It’s just not a word that’s OK for little kids to say. It tends to make people sort of angry and upset when they do.” (Including me. I am not like this dad who wrote for Babble about how he lets his 4-year-old swear at home. And I guess I’m a little old-fashioned in general when it comes to overuse of profanity. Not that this stops me from using the occasional, well-placed 4-letter word.)

Then she asked, “What does it mean?” Read more »

Dear Lord,

Thank you for my beautiful, healthy, creative and otherwise spectacular children. I am grateful for the many blessings and profound love that they have brought to my life.

I just have a few teeny little requests: Read more »

Last week, I shared some of my girls’ standout outfits — chosen by them, of course. (I could never come up with such daring and original ensembles!) And then I asked you to submit your kids’ best fashion creations. Readers and other Babble bloggers delivered — and here are the stunning results, complete with my own ridiculous color commentary (Get it? Get it? Color…Oh never mind).

Thanks for all the fabulous submissions. Enjoy!

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It thrills me to no end that Elsa and Clio are finally independent enough (and usually willing) to dress themselves. It’s one less thing we have to personally oversee during the always-hectic rush to get out the door to school, activities, etc.

Sometimes I pick out the clothes for them. But more often than not these days, I let then do it themselves — which is what they prefer anyway. It does, however, lead to some er, interesting ensembles.

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Yesterday, I was driving behind a truck with a bumper sticker that said, “Get a tattoo you f@#*ing pu##y.” (But with, you know, the real letters.)

Blech. Call me old fashioned, but I just don’t think people should be plastering their cars (or T-shirts, for that matter) with profanity. I don’t think they should be swearing their mouths off, loudly, left and right on buses and subways or on the street, as so many teenagers (not to mention younger adults) do ’round these parts. I think it’s disrespectful and generally ugly. Read more »