Life story


Born Catherine Ann Furey back in 1969, I was immediately labeled a handful by hospital nurses. Really, I just needed some love. My mother noticed a peaceful and content baby whenever she held me and gave me constant attention.

This theme would repeat itself for the rest of my life.

After college, I legally replaced “Furey” with “Durkin” because an obscure Irish name is tolerable only if it comes from relatives I know. Then I converted to Judaism, got married in 1995, and became the modern nightmare: Catherine Durkin Robinson.

After nuptials, Husband and I took off to discover the world. We made great friends, carved out successful careers, and traveled enough to write five books. What more could we want?

How about a baby?

We got more than we bargained for several months later when the doctor announced we were having twins. After shock gave way to joy, I made plans to give up my career in order to provide our children with a stable, happy home life.

As I sat in the suburbs surrounded by Weber grills and cable television, freelance writing became my opportunity to explore all that is fun and frustrating about progressive parenting.

Not easily defined, I’m a feminist who’s had cosmetic surgery, a wife who has never been domestically inclined, and a mommy who doesn’t particularly like kids. In my spare time, I investigate missing socks.

Let the games begin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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