Rockabye: From Wild to Child

by Rebecca Woolf

Book Overview

Rockabye is the lively memoir of a spontaneous young city-girl who becomes unexpectedly pregnant. That city-girl is Rebecca Woolf, who at 23, after the "holy shit, I'm pregnant" realization, decides to keep the baby, marry the boyfriend (in Vegas no less), and figure out how to wed her rock n' roll lifestyle and impending motherhood.

With humor, honesty, and renegade insight, Rebecca makes the transition from life as an odd-job doing...

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: 1580052320
• ISBN13: 9781580052320
• Release Date: April 2008
• Publisher: Seal Press (CA)
• Length: 256 Pages
• Weight: 0.95 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.9" x 6.5" x 7.5"

Customer Reviews

Honest and poetic

When I bought Rebecca Woolf's "Rockabye: From Wild to Child", I was sold a misleading bill of goods. Like Neal Pollack's "Alternadad", Woolf's memoir was marketed as the story of a party-all-nighter's quest to transition to parenthood without losing her innate coolness. And like Pollack's memoir, "Rockabye" turned out to be so much more. It's a heartfelt exploration of a new parent's discovery of her heart and soul, awakened by the birth of her child, and how, in finding her own way to be that son's very best parent, she finds her true self. Woolf writes with unblinking honesty and a stunning gift for language. I've never been so happy to find that a book I'm reading is not the book I thought it was going to be.

"Thank you for choosing me to mother you"

On her son Archer's first birthday, Rebecca Woolf writes him a letter that says, in part, "Thank you for choosing me to mother you." That sentence encapsulates so much of what this book is about, from Woolf's childhood as a misfit in Southern California, to becoming a mom and winding up back in the land she simultaneously loves and hates. From her unexpected pregnancy at age 23 to dealing with her son's delayed speech and the nonstop barrage of advice she's given, Woolf dissects her life pre- and post-baby, showing the through lines between each and how she is passing on her own naturally rebellious, independent nature to her son. She laughs at herself when she finds herself wearing a pashmina while at a concert ("I might as well have tattooed MOM on my forehead"), and struggles to find herself, and her place in her family, both the one she's created and the one she grew up in, as well as in her friendship circles. Her relationship with her own mother changes, and in one of her most moving chapters, where she veers from calling her mother a "----ing b--ch!" to having a heart-to-heart with her and coming to understand her better. She writes that "Maybe Archer will be the glue that holds us together, because sometimes love isn't enough," detailing her uncertainty about the permanence of her marriage but her faith that this young family she has created will survive. I'm not a mom (yet), so I can't speak to the accuracy or not of the motherhood experiences Woolf describes, but I can say that whether you've read her blog or not, you will find here an unflinching, sometimes funny, sometimes dark, always searching look at Woolf's life as it transforms and grows along with her child. There are times here where it's easy to forget that Woolf is only in her mid-twenties, and other times where that is eminently apparent, and both make one marvel at her ability to roll with the punches and not just expect the unexpected, but crave it. After all, this is a woman who wanted to name her child Colette, if she had a girl: "Promiscuous French free spirits with cocked pens and erotica in their oeuvre have always been my greatest heroes." Woolf doesn't have all the answers but thankfully, she doesn't pretend to. This is an often stream-of-consciousness, in the moment, figure it out by the seat of her pants kind of memoir, the kind that invites you deeply into Woolf's world and will inspire you to keep reading as she documents her second pregnancy on her blog. Though choppy at times as she veers from her own childhood to her son's, Rockabye is still a powerful new voice that never backs down.

Laugh until you cry.. or vice versa

This wonderfully written memoir is such a heartfelt account of what, I'm sure so many moms feel. The uncensored sentiments of all womankind are so refreshing to relate to. I feel like I've known Rebecca forever since reading this book. Her voice is familiar and friendly and each page feels like a letter to me. Buy this book in lieu of any of those how-to parenting books or just because it's a great read. I recommend it for anyone who reads!!!!

Hilarious, honest, powerful, and fun: a truly original voice

I'm a longtime fan of Rebecca Woolf and her blogs: she has a unique perspective, a clever writing style, and doesn't hold anything back. This book is just as I'd imagined it could be--she never gets formal or pretentious just because her medium has changed. Her independent spirit and undeniable writing skill shine through whether she's talking about diapers or sex, marriage or rock shows. Whether or not you're interested in parenting (after all, she wasn't when the journey started) this is just a propulsive read about life, love, and what it's like to be young and faced with something unexpected. Cliched but true: you'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll think. Heartfelt but subversive, this book is like sitting down with a great friend whose world has been turned upside down, dropping your guard, and letting it all hang out. Tuck it in your duck-print diaper bag or your Prada clutch. You'll be so glad you did...