I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through it. But I knew I had to; I didn’t have a choice.

When I decided to get divorced at age thirty-eight, as the mother of four young kids, including a nine-month-old baby, I did so because I couldn’t not. I did so, fundamentally, to save my soul.

I don’t blame my ex-husband. The ins and outs of our relationship are probably familiar to many and largely irrelevant, for reasons hard to articulate yet easy to feel.

The fallout from our separation left me pushing a stroller up and down Madison…

I was under the covers already, but had to pick up her call. We caught up for a while.

“How’s your book on workaholism coming along?” I asked.

My dear friend was confessing some big things and needed an active ear.

“Well, I stopped working for the past year,” she responded. “I’ve been hiding out. Rethinking. Repairing. My body is healing. I feel so much better.”

We started talking about her recent collapse, how the stress she’d put herself under had caused some auto-immune issues. How she’d ended up in the hospital.

“I had to call you,” she said. “I…

I’m short. Yes, it’s nice when people use euphemisms like “petite” or “diminutive in stature,” but in truth, I’m not petite at all. My bones are large. I wear an 8 1/2 shoe. I’m okay with this. In fact, I would proudly identify as height-challenged. (Is that even a thing? Perhaps a parade is in order?) But with virtual Zooms overtaking every social interaction this pandemic, no one knows that about me.

I’m in a fairly unique situation in that I interview at least five new authors every week for my podcast, Moms Don’t Have Time to Read Books, so…

Confession: sometimes I feel like the worst parent ever. Logically I know that isn’t true and those close to me who see how I parent would likely attest to my warmth, empathy, fierce advocacy and deep love, respect and admiration of my kids. And, truly, my kids are great people (something for which I take no credit).

But that doesn’t mean I avoid self-doubt spirals when I second-guess how I’ve handled something. Sometimes as I fall asleep, I feel consumed by all the ways I’ve messed up. A pick-up opportunity missed due to a totally skippable work call, the urgency…

Before I started my podcast “Moms Don’t Have Time to Read Books,” I was just your average hardcore booklover. I regularly shopped at bookstores, always excitedly perusing the new releases, stacking hardcovers in my arms up to my chin, and plopping them down at the register.

I’m sitting at my desk, ordering bras and underwear for my sister-in-law. Does she prefer hipsters? Thongs? Who knows? But I know she must need some. Stefanie, my husband Kyle’s 33-year-old little sister, raced out of her apartment in Charleston six weeks ago, only grabbing her purse, when her 63-year-old mother, business partner, and best friend, Susan called and said she couldn’t breathe. Stef drove two hours to Charlotte in the early morning hours that day to take Susan to the hospital. She hasn’t been back to her apartment since. No clothes, no computer, no iPad, nothing. She has been…

I think we can all agree that 2020 will go down in history as one of our collective and personally most challenging years. I know mine was. But along the way, many amazing books came out, helping us escape and delight in our interior lives when the exterior world was bleak. Now with the shining promise of a new year beckoning, I’m definitely ready for healthier times, less loss, more certainty, and many, many great reads. As a literary podcast host, I’m in the enviable position of getting advance copies of many books months before they hit the shelves. …

According to Page Six of the New York Post, an Upper East Side moms group (“UES Mommas”) has booted out author Jane L. Rosen. The beloved, warm-hearted, popular author of Eliza Starts a Rumor was scheduled to do a virtual event with the group in January. Once they heard that the novel poked fun at a mom message board similar to their own, the group cancelled the event and kicked her out of the community.