About this author:
Mindy Uhrlaub, reared on Chicago's North Shore, recovered from her sheltered, Jewish upbringing by joining a rock and roll band upon her arrival to the University of Denver. The 40th Day, for whom Uhrlaub played keyboards, released two albums, toured, and opened for bands like Maggie's Dream, Kansas, and The Smashing Pumpkins. Shortly before she received her Master's Degree with an emphasis on screenwriting, Mindy's band spontaneously combusted, and she went on to write, produce, and ultimately distribute her original feature film, STALLED. During perproduction of the movie, she fell in love with her husband, Kirk. Together, they, and their two young sons reside in San Anselmo. Because her hands are always in someone's diaper, Mindy's ongoing project, a novel entitled The Thaw, resides in a jar of formaldehyde on her desk.
January 12th, 2011
Woman in Congo
Today I stand in the middle of the FedEx office with a mailer in my hand. Oblivious to my children who chase each other in circles around me, I tear open the strip on the package. It’s the moment of truth. I can’t believe what I see. It’s my passport with something stapled to page 11. I’ve finally been granted a visa to visit the Democratic Republic of Congo. I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.
In 2008, I made a contribution to Human Rights Watch, which changed my life. When I casually asked my contact at the organization how my donation might help, I received a report from a researcher in the Democratic Republic of Congo. It outlined a brief history of outside entities raping the land for natural resources, the fallout from the war in the Kivus, as well as descriptions of violence against women. The tyranny of militias and the suffering of Congo’s people got me riled up, and I began devouring books and articles about the subject. Continue… »
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March 11th, 2010
Ethan named his blanket once he was old enough to give anything a name. He has been a thumb-and-blanket addict since I weaned him at six months, so he’s a great sleeper as a result. Who can complain when a six-year-old still naps and sleeps eleven hours at night?
Our pediatrician agreed. “Kids usually give up these things on their own at about age six.” She gave Eth a reassuring pat on the back and turned to me, “So don’t rush it.”
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January 22nd, 2010
It’s Christmas vacation, and Kirk and I are on the plane to Costa Rica with Ethan, age six, and Alex, three.
“Free at last!” I say. We’ve arrived. No more travel with diapers. Gone are the days when we schlepped a stroller, Bjorn, car seats, and diaper bag. My husband and I have finally made it to travel with Big Boys. It seems like the only things we bring for a long airplane flight now are DVD players.
This morning, as we waited in the security line, I spotted a poor mommy who woke her sleeping baby, wrestled him out of his shoes, hoisted him from his stroller, and shoved his transportation through the machine. I smiled at her reassuringly. It wasn’t long ago that I was in her position, trying to dump formula while simultaneously shouldering a diaper bag and a screaming baby.
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July 9th, 2009
Sometimes, when I’m up in the middle of the night, giving one of my sons Children’s Motrin, or when I’m wiping their butts, or assembling the thousandth PB&J, I think of the woman I used to be.
It’s a stretch for me, so immersed in motherhood, to acknowledge the Mindy before kids.
Before I started bringing up the latest generation of my family, I had a different family. It was a group of creative people, of grips and DP’s, directors, actors, and producers. As an independent filmmaker, I lived in Los Angeles, among many types of would-be stars. The majority were single-minded, egocentric opportunists, all trying to bust into the entertainment industry. It was an existence that ran counter to anything remotely nurturing or motherly.
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June 20th, 2009
Last week, while clearing away the dinner dishes, my boys, Ethan, five, and Alex, three, began their debate.
Ethan, in an authoritative voice, fired the first shot with, “Storm troopers have cooler weapons than Jedis, you know.”
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November 23rd, 2008
It’s funny how the relationship between my tits and me has changed.
Back when I was a single, ninety-eight pound wisp of a thing, I’d think, “Gee, they’re not huge, but the dudes seem to dig ‘em OK.”
This perception didn’t really change when I got married. However, during my first pregnancy, after the Boobie Fairy had paid her requisite visit, my husband, Kirk, suddenly became obsessed with my breasts.
And why shouldn’t he?
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