I also read Boys Adrift which, among other things, reinforced my longstanding opposition to allowing video games in our house. The author is an MD/PhD who studies gender and child development. He identified five factors that explain why we have an epidemic of underachieving and unmotivated young men in our culture: changes in educational approaches that push math and reading too early; video games; over-diagnosis and over-medicalization of ADHD; a lack of strong, positive role models for boys in our culture; and endocrine disruptions caused by certain chemicals.
Now that I'm back home and trying to get focused on my dissertation again, I started reading Bearing Meaning: The Language of Birth. It's heavy on feminist and sociological theory, but definitely worth the effort. I am almost 100 pages into the book so far. She includes her first-hand experiences giving birth and mothering, which I find quite delightful.
After that heavy academic prose, I am yearning for something a bit lighter. My first purchase would be If These Boobs Could Talk: A Little Humor to Pump Up the Breastfeeding Mom. It's a scream, and I've only seen a few pages of it so far.
Another book on my must-read list is Louise Erdrich's The Blue Jay's Dance: A Birth Year. Here's an excerpt to tease and delight (and hopefully entice you to buy this book, which starts for one penny on Amazon):
I'm an instinctive mother, not a book-read one, and my feeling is that a baby must be weaned slowly from its other body--mine. So I keep her close, sleep with her curled tight, tie her onto me with padded contraptions. My days here have become sensuous, suffused with the particular, which is not to say that they aren't difficult, or that I get much done. With each birth I have been thrown into a joy of the physical emotions, a religious and fixated delight that seizes me so thoroughly the life of the imagination sometimes seems a spare place. The grounded pleasures--nursing, touching the exquisite fontanel of our baby, a yellow-pink fragrance of sun-heated cotton & tepid cream, gazing eternally into her mystery eyes--are only tempered by sleep deprivation.