why mothers eventually let go of their intellectual lives

The new New Yorker is here almost before I’d had the chance to absorb the unusual chewiness of the last one. A long piece profiling structural engineer Cecil Balmond contains the irresistible observation that the job of an engineer is “to route gravity through structure.”

Writing this much has taken me an hour, counting interruptions. I wish Jeremy would come home and stay home. He’s been gone three of the last five weeks. I’m very tired.

Balmond works for what sounds like a fascinating company, called Arup.

Now Julia is crying, and Claire has come out of bed to demand fresh pajamas. It’s ten to ten. I give up.

ETA: Claire put on her own pajamas and Julia has fallen asleep, but my brain is still a thin gruel.

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