Among my library books I have a number of Birrell's works.

And she has not published a book. And I have published two. It is not because I am a better writer. It is because, when she solved for X, I came first. And if I came first, she came second.

Humphreys, 1912), and his  (London: Nelson, 1908).

Can I suggest something because what you’re going through is worth it and I’ve heard it from other women like you? Live the journey for 4 years, watch amazing stuff happen, live another 13 years and really watch unbelievable stuff be created before you and I promise you’ll see your life RICH with meaning and deeply colored with unimaginable LOVE. Love you never thought existed. Love you could never imagine is so amazing it’s worth the HOSTILE struggle.

He met Johnson in 1763 and made yearly visits to London to see him.

In 1786 he moved to London and joined the bar there, but without much success.

I can feel it, as I wander through my days, as I change diapers and pour sippy cups of milk: the magical lodestone that is want. There is no surer way to locate your self, if you have misplaced her for a moment, than to ask yourself what you want.

was so held, and and , and , and .

It was actually shocking to me, as each piece of this unfolded, how closely you were describing my own experience. The reflection is so much needed just right now, I can’t begin to tell you. Thank you for this insightful, necessary, affirming piece of writing. Thank you.

There can be no greater mistake.

Thank you for this!
Beautiful beautiful writing.
Gives me so much to reflect on. Sometimes I believe I am lazy because I can’t make amazing things or anything happen with my scrambled brain in the little bit of time that my 8 mo old son is sleeping.
Our work is unappreciated, unseen, exhausting, sops our essence from us.
Damn men.
Damn our culture.
We need more help.

No man has greater reverence for the Bible than Huxley.

I put my notebooks on a shelf when my triplet burdens of motherhood, mortgage and man were all I could juggle. Years later, when I wondered who I was, I picked up the creative pen again. I started with poems I could scribble out after work and the dinner was done and the babies were in bed. When they got so they could get the bus home I wrote short stories and after I left my marriage the words tumbled out freely in all the spare time not looking after a man brings forth. Pressing pause on my career released me from five day a week marathons and bought me Wednesdays – a break in the middle to write up a storm or a typhoon or a haiku. I have hard won my freedom to create. My daughters conspire with me to make it so for all of us. One paints and stidies and does all our cleaning. The other studies and writes and cooks for us. We’ve stepped out of the cycle with our education and set our sites on wanting less stuff and taking more time.

No one had more acquaintance with the text of scripture.

Oh my word. You said things I’ve tried saying many times before, but you did it so well and so much better. Amazing read. So packed with “amen” moments.

And yet, I am profoundly unfree.

This was so good. I am always so impressed by my fellow mothers of more than one child (it’s true – one is so simple) who can produce creative works. My husband claims to be supportive of my dreams, but really has no clue how much I’ve sacrificed my own life and dreams to support him as wife and mother. I encourage him to go to that multi-day cross-country conference, but then hear complaints when I speak aloud my dream of going away alone for a couple days when the baby no longer needs me so desperately.
Thank you for this article. You put into words so many of my own thoughts.
And about the underwear, you may never be able to train your husband to pick it up. My own cannot see the the small bits and pieces of his grooming that he leaves behind. His eyes are only open to the details that matter to him. Tiny, infuriating hairs will never fall into that category.