Reviewed by Erin Kirkland

We are stronger than we think, and author Shauna Glenn proves it. Her novel “Heaping Spoonful” takes readers through love, loss, and back again with insightful storytelling and real characters that remind us of ourselves. “Heaping Spoonful” shows us life with a woman fighting to discover who she is after the death of her husband with in-your-face realism and a dash of naughty.

At center stage is Claire, a thirty-something mother whose husband’s recent death to cancer has left her feeling angry and alone, something she tries desperately to hide from her young son and daughter. The book opens with an example of how angry Claire is over her husband Bryan’s death; while out running one morning she is nearly run over by an “ass—-” in a sports car. After hurling a rock at the man’s rear window and angrily engaging in a shouting match, the brute hurls back to Claire that he feels sorry for her husband for having to live with her. Palpably hurt, the scene is a great introduction to Claire and hooked me easily into her life.

Claire has a lot going on; her business, a little bakery that has enjoyed modest success since opening now needs to be more than a hobby. It is Claire’s lifeblood and must pay the bills, but ancillary characters keep getting in her business and remind her life is not simply about managing employees and selling pastry. One such employee is her sister, Lucy, a perfect sub-heroine in Glenn’s layered plot scheme. Hilarious and a little wild, Lucy has a bit of an obsession for men and sex, as evidenced by a scene early on when Claire and her kids visit for dinner and walk in to find Lucy and her flavor of the week a bit ‘compromised’ in the kitchen.

Claire’s parents, too, are important figures. Suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, her mother has moments of lucidity that bring surprising clarity. In a tender moment between Claire and her mother, a connection to old family recipes gives Claire a boost of self-esteem and a lasting legacy. Claire finally creates a goal for herself and her business, making her feel whole for the first time in a long while.

Yes, there are men; Glenn shocks us a few times with her situational sex scenes reminiscent of a college dorm. But she approaches Claire’s dating experiences with such fabulous humor and understanding that even the moments of unbridled passion will seem a perfect fit for the overall story. After all, how many of us can say we never had a transitional relationship after the loss of a boyfriend or husband? The best part of life, however, is how we find what, or who, is really the most important. And how people who are under our noses can turn out to be the most glorious of friends or loves we ever imagined.

Devour this read accompanied by a box of chocolate and a glass of wine. It’ll do you good.

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Imagine Gossip Girl grew up, Miranda Hobbes became a stay-at-home mom, and Juno kept her baby. Mix these characters’ worlds together and you’re hanging out with Hannah Allen, the sympathetic heroine of Momzillas.

Add the slick, stylized tone of chick-lit classics like Shopaholic Ties the Knot and Baby Proof, and the resulting literary concoction is Jill Kargman’s Momzillas: It’s a Jungle out there on Park Avenue, Baby.

At-home mother Hannah, her investment-banker husband Josh, and their 2-year-old daughter Violet have relocated from San Francisco to New York City’s Upper East Side. After some prodding from her materialistic mother-in-law, Hannah loads Violet into the stroller and runs smack into the most vicious strain of mothers in America: the Momzillas of Manhattan.

Chronicling this stay-at-home mom’s move to moneyed Manhattan and her struggles to fit in with a gossipy clique of over-achieving mothers, Momzillas is an easy-to-read paperback pleasure that feels guilty but never actually induces the mommy guilt. As a less-than-perfect, all-too-human mother, Hannah is definitely no one’s martyr even though she feels an outsider’s pain.

Although the heroines and villains of Momzillas are stay-at-home moms, Kargman writes sensitively about the choices all new moms must make. She diplomatically covers the maternal controversies of breastfeeding, childcare, returning to work, and how much to spend on a little one’s toys, clothes and entertainment.

Many of Hannah’s days and nights in New York are lonely and depressing as she rides the rollercoaster of emotions that goes along with trying to find your place after uprooting your family and moving across the country. But Kargman offers a light, entertaining touch, with as much pop-culture lingo as a movie like Juno, and even includes a glossary to explain the native tongue.

New mothers across a range of geographical and socioeconomic levels will appreciate Momzillas, for the same reasons that a diverse horde of millions relate to Sex and the City’s aspirational characters.

Of course, the Momzillas bubble that Kargman has re-created does seem a bit too carefully constructed at times. Conveniently, all of the main characters are only children, and more than once I asked myself why Hannah doesn’t just pick up the phone and call her own mom in Seattle for sympathy when the going gets tough.

But overall, this glossy glimpse into malicious mommyhood is a light-hearted summer read, a pure pop confection of playground frenemies, preschool anxieties, and perfectly pressed professional nannies.

The transition to motherhood is as sticky as tar. Nobody tells it as straight as Brett Paesel in her rendition of the adjustment from breezy freedom to the chaotic commitment of children.

Paesel’s account of the sleepless nights, the crying jags (both baby and mom!), and the need for mom-camaraderie is honest, hilarious, touching at times, and a bit crass. The book is mostly focused on Paesel’s struggles with new motherhood through frequent gatherings with her tribe of mom pals. As they gather at the bar to gain sanity and respite from the toil of their child-rearing days, the women provide a sounding board and comfort to each other.

Paesel uses witty humor to cope with pregnancy, miscarriage, adoption, and even the absurd acceptance rituals of exclusive preschools. The weekly bar gatherings underscore the need for community at a time when so many new moms feel isolated. If moms who read this book haven’t yet found their “tribe” of mom friends, they will certainly step up their search upon witnessing how Paesel’s group offers much-needed empathy and support.

There is a slightly annoying “ Hollywood ” pervasiveness in the book; even her OB/Gyn was met through acting classes. (What was he taking acting classes for? “Mrs. Green, you look fantastic—I hardly notice the 70 pounds you’ve put on during pregnancy!”). However, there are enough clever gems of humor to make up for this shortfall, such as reversing the “Expected Milestones” chart from what the baby should be able to do by a certain age to what the mother should be able to do by the time the baby reaches a particular age.

I have to say, I’m glad I read this book after having children. At times, Paesel makes motherhood sound so dismal that her account might have dissuaded me. Fortunately, I could enjoy her humorous challenges of parenting because I know they are off-set by as many joyous moments.

Read it, relish the humor…just don’t pass it along to that friend who is on the fence about having kids unless you are hoping to curb the world population.