From my book in 1985:

My desires and feelings about the way I should raise children and be a mother suddenly seemed to place me at sharp, and unnecessary, odds with the women's movement, whose campaigns to offer women the chance for stronger and more independent lives were, along with the civil rights movements, the most important social developments of my lifetime. I thought of the women's movement as my friend, and still do; yet its positions on motherhood and child rearing made it seem as if I would be failing the movement if I took the steps I thought necessary to care for my children.

A torrent of response followed. The mailman delivered bins and bins of typed or handwritten heartfelt letters, an image that now rings as quaint compared with the barrage of easy, instant digital responses. I was embraced or vilified, quietly and publicly, more or less equally, by both sides.

Time marches along, but witness the response to recent articles around the theme of "Can women have it all?" The topic fans a firestorm. In fundamental ways, the debates are familiar: women, work, children, dads, time, balance. But it also seems to me that the emphasis has changed. It used to focus more on "What does this mean to the kids?" and now it is, "What does this mean to women's careers?"

Much now said and done, I do not regret a moment I spent raising our children. Not a moment. Well, OK, there was a learning curve and there were those times; I have sometimes regretted missing a professional career with a clean trajectory and recognized milestones. Instead, I cobbled together an eclectic (and interesting!) career of linguistics, writing, Internet technology, and academia.

So, that history established, you can imagine that I was very interested to time-travel and try out modern life with children. Here's what I learned, in three parts: the sociologically interesting, the surprising, and the highly improved.

Dads. I should have seen this one coming. There was no missing the appearance of more young dads with kids at the playgrounds, in the grocery stores, on mid-day outings, or the announcements of paternal leave and dads' support groups over the last generation. But old habits die hard, and when I was laying in supplies for the baby visit, I unthinkingly asked our son to ask our daughter-in-law what size diapers and what kind of bottles I should get. Without missing a beat, he replied, "Size 3 Pampers Swaddlers and Medela bottles."

My first reaction was: a misstep by me. My second reaction was: He's a good dad. Later, I even indulged the idea that maybe something about our sons' own upbringing had rubbed off on them. My husband, a writer, has primarily worked from home. He saw, heard, and, to a much greater degree than most fathers of our generation, was part of the everyday scramble of life with kids. The lucky break of the workstyle of his profession allowed a participation in and empathetic appreciation of family life that is, I think, a version of what many young families aim toward today. Something has changed demonstrably in the functioning of modern young two-parent families: Both parents are there in the elemental sense of the word. Finally.