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Walking on Eggshells
By: Jane Isay , David M.D. PerlmuttereBook Publisher: Random House
Imprint: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Format: ePub Encrypted (DRM)
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On giving advice:
They Don’t Want It.
They Don’t Hear It.
They Resent It.
Don’t Give It.
We raise our children to be independent and lead fulfilling lives, but when they finally do, staying close becomes more complicated than ever. And for every bewildered mother who wonders why her children don’t call, there is a frustrated son or daughter who just wants to be treated like a grownup. Now, renowned editor Jane Isay delivers the perfect gift to both parents and their adult children—real-life wisdom and advice on how to stay together without falling apart.
Using extensive interviews with people from ages twenty-five to seventy, Isay shows that we’re far from alone in our struggles to make this new, adult relationship work. She offers up groundbreaking insights and deeply moving stories that will inspire those in even the toughest situations. Isay’s warmth and wit shine through on every page as she charts an invaluable course through the confusing, and often painful, interactions parents and children can face. Walking on Eggshells is the much-needed road map that will keep you connected to the people you love most.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
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| Title of eBook: Walking on Eggshells | |
| Release Date: 04-08-2008 | |
| Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group |
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
| Parent title | Walking on Eggshells |
|---|---|
| Encrypted (DRM) | Yes |
| SKU | 9780767929387 |
| File size | 372 |
| Internet Security | n/a |
| Printing | Not allowed |
| Copying | Not allowed |
| Read aloud | No Sys requirements Download reader |
| Devices | Samsung Tablet, Apple Ipad & Iphone, Barnes & Noble Nook, Kobo eReader, Aluratek Libre, Iliad, Nokia, Blackberry, Hanlin |
| Note | ePub, short for electronic publication is one of our favorites and should be yours for a couple of reasons. ePub offers reflowable text giving you flexibility to manipulate how the content is presented. Moreover, lots of cool features are now being developed for the reader like advanced video and audio. ePub is now an industry standard, so all of the "non-propreitary" hardware manufacturers are now supporting it. |
Walking on Eggshells
1
Where Have All Our Children Gone?
It was 1965, and I was pregnant with my first child—very pregnant. We lived in a university town, and I was the only working wife among the group of psychiatry residents. The other women were homebound with small children, living on their husbands’ minute salaries. We were participating in the Mommy Wars long before these had a name. The other wives were jealous of my job, my freedom, our relative wealth, and the orderliness of our lives. I made them tense. At the time, I didn’t have much sympathy for them. Competitive cooks, they didn't appreciate the Chinese takeout I served them when I entertained. They had messy kitchens, and their children were not much cleaner. Perpetually frazzled and resentful, they talked exclusively about babies, or so it seemed to me. I came to realize how difficult their job was, but at the time, I didn’t get it. I suspected that some of the wives were secretly enjoying the fact that I was now pregnant. The size of my belly meant that big changes were approaching—especially for me!
***
We were leaving a birthday dinner party Harriet had thrown for her husband. She stood at the head of the steep stairs of their graduate–student housing, two flights up in an old house. The baby was on her hip, the toddler asleep on the couch. Harriet was exhausted. Her unruly red hair had curled tightly from the effort of putting on this party. Her face was shiny with sweat. She had cooked to beat the band. Harriet had removed much of the furniture in their apartment to set up tables for forty people. She’d made bouillabaisse for us all, except for my husband, who disliked fish; it was filet mignon fo...
Where Have All Our Children Gone?
It was 1965, and I was pregnant with my first child—very pregnant. We lived in a university town, and I was the only working wife among the group of psychiatry residents. The other women were homebound with small children, living on their husbands’ minute salaries. We were participating in the Mommy Wars long before these had a name. The other wives were jealous of my job, my freedom, our relative wealth, and the orderliness of our lives. I made them tense. At the time, I didn’t have much sympathy for them. Competitive cooks, they didn't appreciate the Chinese takeout I served them when I entertained. They had messy kitchens, and their children were not much cleaner. Perpetually frazzled and resentful, they talked exclusively about babies, or so it seemed to me. I came to realize how difficult their job was, but at the time, I didn’t get it. I suspected that some of the wives were secretly enjoying the fact that I was now pregnant. The size of my belly meant that big changes were approaching—especially for me!
***
We were leaving a birthday dinner party Harriet had thrown for her husband. She stood at the head of the steep stairs of their graduate–student housing, two flights up in an old house. The baby was on her hip, the toddler asleep on the couch. Harriet was exhausted. Her unruly red hair had curled tightly from the effort of putting on this party. Her face was shiny with sweat. She had cooked to beat the band. Harriet had removed much of the furniture in their apartment to set up tables for forty people. She’d made bouillabaisse for us all, except for my husband, who disliked fish; it was filet mignon fo...
