Unlike her mother, my mom didn’t shirk the practicalities of the job. She read all the parenting theories, pursued all the extracurriculars for both of us and picked the right schools for us to attend. She ran our existence like air traffic control, and she made all that labor invisible. She was good at it, but it was just not who she wanted to be

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Thirty-five years ago, I would have had no chance to have children with a biological link to their father; Penelope and Justin would not exist. How can I long for that world? Thirty-five years ago, people I loved made disastrous decisions that made perfect sense within the context of the world they knew, the moment in which they had to act. They we

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