Renee James

Two recent news stories have left me puzzled. That’s nothing new but in this case, I may need some help sorting this out. (more)

Let’s start with a few facts. I’ve had three children. My labors were not what you might call extended or complicated. And despite our somewhat dubious attitude towards its efficacy combined with our poor practice habits, Lamaze techniques seemed to work well enough for us. In other words, like millions of women the world over, after only moderately challenging pregnancies, I delivered three healthy children. (more)

At the suggestion of my astounded sister (also the most logical person on the planet), but against my better judgment, I watched a television program called “Radical Parenting.” If you’re unfamilar with the term, think of it this way: living in opposite world. There. That’s it. (more)

In “A Chorus Line,” the cast share their life journeys with the director and each other, as they audition for a Broadway show. Three of the female dancers tell similar stories, each based on an intimate girlhood memory, and how it helped shape her personality and more important, her love of dance. (more)

I am what you might call completely average. By that I mean I watched the health-care debate come to life, heat up, and start to cool off. I listened to commentary by “journalists” and talk show hosts on everything from CNN to MSNBC to Fox; read pieces in The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal, on The Huffington Post and here on The Daily Caller. Oh, on Facebook, too. (more)

As stated in a previous Daily Caller column, I’m positive I was born too late, because there is just no understanding the following activity if you’re a woman of a certain age. (more)

In case anyone is wondering, the score is Team Ridiculous Parenting and Lawsuit-wary Companies: 1,000; Team Common Sense and the Rest of Us: Zero. (more)

It’s “everyone gets a trophy day” this year at the Academy Awards but let’s leave that aside for now. According to Media Daily News, the Oscar telecast targets older female viewers, a kind of “Super Bowl” for women. But that analogy doesn’t really work. Most men watching the Super Bowl know who’s playing the game. (more)

This is why you have to love the Olympics. (more)

Hello and welcome to this year’s White House’s Easter Egg Hunt / Spring Festival / Gaia Celebration. We’re thrilled to share this day of fun, family and fitness. Yes, fitness. Quick note: anyone who still needs to register his or her BMI, please join the line forming near the Zumba class area, adjacent to the wheat grass/carrot juice tent. (more)

In June 1959, something of a female-friendly phenomenon began. About a year later, on September ninth and tenth of 1960, it grew. It expanded again in the fall of 1968, then one more time in the summer of ‘75; and has resonated deeply with millions of women the world over ever since. No, it wasn’t the arrival of the Pill, the nascent stirring of the women’s movement, or Jane Fonda’s haircut in Klute. Not one of those things has had as much of an impact on us as a little something I like to call “Four Hughs and a Colin.” (more)

A couple of weeks ago, I treated myself to reading a little report about today’s mom. This study was developed in order to “explore what multiple generations of American women want when it comes to family, work and life in the 21st century, decades after the women’s liberation movement.” It took place in July 2009, and surveyed two groups of mothers, one between the ages of 18-29, the other between 30-44. (more)

I was born too late. Okay, maybe that’s an overstatement. Let’s just say I was born too late to get in on the whole “mommy makeover” thing. (more)

A couple of years ago, I started reading stories in the news about these horrible little things called “push presents.” Long popular and conventional in places like the U.K. and India, crassly named “push presents” are gifts given to a new mother by a new father after the birth of their child. Jewelry, artwork, expensive handbags—any of these will fit the bill. The new mother has expended quite an effort to experience the miracle of birth and all. I guess the father owes her something for her trouble. (more)

Today’s new word: phthalates. Yes: spelled p-h-t-h-a-l-a-t-e-s. You’ll thank me that next time you’re playing Scrabble, have lot of consonants in front of you, and someone has already spelled out “l-a-t-e” on the board. (more)

One of my favorite sensations on earth is the feeling I get while holding a newborn baby, with that precious child’s head snuggled right up against my neck and an entire person resting on me.  There are few feelings that compare to it.  (more)