From www.faulknerfox.com:
From the age of 23, Faulkner Fox was captured by a fantasy that was her version of the American dream: a house by the sea; a devoted, egalitarian, and epicurean husband; an engaging and creative work life; and a beautiful child to complete the picture. A decade later, she actually possessed several of her fantasy elements--but found herself surprisingly depressed, lonely, and guilt-ridden.

In this provocative, brutally honest, and often hilarious memoir of motherhood, Faulkner explores the causes of her unhappiness, as well as the societal and cultural forces that American mothers have to contend with.

From the time of her first pregnancy, Faulkner found herself--and her body--scrutinized by doctors, friends, books, strangers, and, perhaps most of all, herself. In addition to the significant social pressures of raising the perfect child and being the perfect mom, Faulkner also found herself increasingly incensed by the unequal distribution of household labor, and infuriated by the gender inequity in both her home and others'. And though she loves her children and her husband passionately, is thankful for her bountiful middle-class life, and is wracked with guilt for being unhappy, she just can't seem to experience the sense of satisfaction that she thought would come with the package. She's finally got it all--the husband, the house, the kids, an interesting part-time job, even a few hours a week to write--so why does she feel so conflicted?

In Dispatches From a Not-So-Perfect Life, Faulkner sheds light on and provides a context for the fear, confusion, and isolation experienced by many new mothers. She maps the terrain of contemporary domesticity, marriage, and motherhood in a voice that is candid, irreverent, and deeply personal. She also chronicles the unparalleled joy she and other mothers take in their children.

Austinmama: One challenge you found to becoming a mother was feeling that you could not do it and still be yourself. What enabled you to regain your sense of self?

Fox: This was actually a lesson my children taught me. As soon as they could talk, I began to realize that they didn’t want me to act like someone I wasn’t. That acting like someone else -- even my version of Perfect Mom -- was unnerving to them. "What do you want to do, Mommy?" they would often ask me if I seemed either vacant or falsely energetic.  They had a right to know who their mother was, I began to realize; it was important for them to know this. Who was I to keep this knowledge from them just because I’d read a bunch of anxiety-provoking magazines and parenting books that made me feel I should be someone else?

Austinmama: You pinpoint a great many truths about mothering in the book -- one of them is that it is often very hard for women to retain "a sense of entitlement in the presence of a man and child." Right now that is playing out for me while I sit here and write and my husband is getting clothes out of the dryer in the same room and my son is playing very loudly outside -- I want to be with them or feel like I should -- yet I know this is my time. How can women embrace their entitlement?

Fox: What a great question! It’s hard enough if you only think you should, but it’s really hard if you actually do want to be with them, and also want to be working on something else alone that you care about.  This idea -- women embracing their entitlement -- is one of the most important issues in my book, I think. One that I would most like to see enacted in the world.  I wrote a book that raises a lot of questions partially because I didn’t have the answers! What I felt I could contribute was asking hard questions that strike me as vital for women and men to ask themselves if they are going to have rich, full, and meaningful lives.  And this is definitely what I would like to see all men, all women, and all children having.

I deliberately wrote an anti-advice book because I felt like part of what was causing me so much anxiety as a mother was how surrounded I felt by advice. But since you are asking me directly here, I’ll give it a shot, and answer the best I can. The first thing that has got to go -- or at least take an enormous chill pill -- is women’s guilt. We are not bad mothers if we also want to be selves! Having a child does not mean that we agree to give up literally every enjoyable thing we have ever done for ourselves, as selves. Men are much better at entitlement than women. (Yeah, and many of them are selfish jerks, I bet some of you are thinking.)  Okay, so maybe some are. But every mother I know has a very long way to go before becoming a selfish jerk.  And if we stuff down our individual needs, it’s not like they’re going to go away. I believe they’ll come out anyway, possibly in distorted forms such as extreme ambitions for our children because we’ve tried to cut off any ambitions of our own.  Isn’t it healthier for everyone in the family if we just try as hard as we can to figure out, voice, and then act on, what we need to do for ourselves, as selves?

Austinmama: I think hearing other women’s birth stories is very empowering and I loved reading yours. What did you learn about yourself -- and giving birth -- by accomplishing very difficult labors both at home and the hospital?

Fox: Well, I learned that everything is different in theory than it is in practice.  I learned that I can withstand significant pain, if there’s no other choice, and if it’s time-limited.  I learned that you make the best advance decision you can, given all the information you can gather, and then you’d better be fully prepared to improvise or even throw all your plans out entirely, if need be.

Austinmama: When your first child was born, you had just moved to Austin. You paint a depressing picture of trying to find meaningful female friendships with a baby in tow. What worked and what didn’t? Where’s a new mom supposed to find her sisters?

Fox: What worked best for me was stating directly, "I’d really like to get to know you better."  Rather than:  "Do you want to get our babies together for a playdate?" Since I was embarrassed about being lonely, I tended to use my child’s need for socialization as an excuse.  It worked a lot better when I took a risk and told a mother, directly, that I liked her, as a person, rather than implying that it would be convenient for us to get together since our children were the same age. I also tended to do better one-on-one (or two-on-two, including babies) than in larger playgroups. That could just be me, but the setup seemed better for intimacy, which I was definitely looking for.  Also, I looked for women who had some of the same interests I did. The odds were better for me to meet someone I connected strongly with at postpartum baby-and-me yoga, for example, than at the playground. Finally, I don’t think mothers should berate ourselves for not connecting with every other mother. Did I connect with every person who also worked at UT?  Every person who grew up in Virginia?  Every person who drove a Subaru?  Of course not. Once I let myself feel that it was okay not to be friends with every mother I met, this kind of cleared the way for me to see which women (who also happened to be mothers) I really did want to pursue as friends.

Austinmama: In the book, you’re a little rough on Austin and its earthy-crunchy militancy. Granted, you moved here entirely because of your husband’s job, and Texas is far from old friends and family. But we all know absence makes the heart grow fonder. What do you miss about Austin?

Fox: Good Mexican food!  Seriously, there are dozens of things I miss about Austin: Barton Springs, Central Market, the weather in February, Halloween, the Christmas decorations on 34th Street, the music, the Texas Book Festival -- the list goes on and on.  Mostly, though, I miss my Austin friends. How ironic, in a way, that I didn’t like Austin initially because it was far from old friends, and now -- after living in Austin for seven years and being gone two-and-a-half years -- many of the people nearest and dearest to my heart are Austinites.  If someone said "I’ll give you a plane ticket anywhere in the U.S.  Where do you want to go?"  I’d say "Austin."  Lucky for me, someone did say something like that (my publisher said they would pay for my plane ticket to Austin), and I’ll be there in February.  I can’t wait!