I guess I'm not the target audience for this essay series/memoir about being an African American woman/wife/mom/employee, but often I like reading personal material by someone in much different circumstances.
Not much in this case, though I did finish it, and there were enough sharp or well-put observations to keep me going -- for instance, in describing her commitment to marital therapy "If you have something that would be unbearable to lose, you have to find ways to take care of it".
Trying to put my finger on what left me feeling uninspired, I came up with:
1. She's not funny. I don't think I laughed once while reading it, which is unusual for an autobiographical piece.
2. A lot of the material is very familiar and was elaborated at excessive length (it's hard to find time for yourself when you have little kids, women are more likely to notice non-routine household tasks that need doing, Black women are uninterested in the Mommy Wars because they have always had to work outside the home).
3. She seems defensive -- no need to worry about exploiting her housekeeper because she's at least conscious of historical/cultural overtones to the relationship; it's ok to hit her kids as a discipline method because earlier generations did it more; it makes sense to ignore your kid when she's repeatedly knocking on the bathroom door because you don't get enough time to yourself.
4. It's ponderous (to me) to relate absolutely everything to race and gender and to bolster such analyses with copious direct quotes. Obviously that is the theme of the book and an important element of her view of the world, but at times it almost read like "I like apple cinnamon cheerios. You know, there's a long history of Black women liking apple cinnamon cheerios. As the actress Halle Berry said, 'apple cinnamon cheerios are great!'. Likewise, Sojourner Truth wrote, in her book Cereal Wars, that apple cinnamon cheerios sustained her."