Here’s the truth: I’m getting a little tired of everyone out there trying to solve our problems – the problems of working women with children, that is. Work/life balance, opting out, opting in, juggling, woman power, why we should rule the earth and why if we have kids that’s really impossible – it’s all seeming like old news.

In the United States, the number of children adopted from other countries continues to grow. In communities all over the country, children meet peers from China, Korea, Cambodia and other Asian nations in particular.

We at Mommy Track’d are all too familiar with the avalanche of books dealing with the conflicts between “working” and stay at home mothers. Though it’s still too soon to chant R.I.P. to the Mommy Wars, we continue to try. It’s not as if the work/home dilemma is the only thing on our minds.

One of the best things about Mommy Track’d is its attitude: its role as cheerleader for working moms. There may be disagreements among its writers and subscribers, but they don’t snipe and snarl at one another as they do on other sites called out by Ayelet Waldman in her new book, Bad Mother, scheduled for release in May.

As if it weren’t enough that your work and home lives threaten overwhelm at every turn, now you’re turning forty. Or have turned forty. Or will soon will be turning forty. Rather than urge you to consider the alternative to growing older, instead let me offer a lively and consoling read: Knowing Pains: Women on Love, Sex and Work in Our 40s.

I’m in the mood for understatement, so let’s just say at the outset that I’m not a fan of the American Girl commercial machine. Outrageously expensive dolls and ever-multiplying accessories for them, not to mention glammed-up stores complete with tearooms and hair salons for the dolls and their captive small owners, just don’t do it for me

My favorite six year old, on fire with the excitement only a new reader can feel, is a big fan of Kate Di Camillo’s Mercy Watson series, illustrated by Chris Van Dusen.

They’re back. The vampires, I mean. I hear there’s even an American Vampire League devoted to promoting the equality and civil liberties of vampires. No surprise, really. Every generation has its version, though Anne Rice must be having a lit fit over the return of the undead in Stephenie Myers' Twilight series.

If ever there was a book with my name on it, the one I should have written, this is it: Mama PhD, edited by Elrena Evans and Caroline Grant. Full disclosure. I’ve been an academic all my professional life.

Forget the piles of generic best sellers and holiday splash placed prominently just inside the front door of your local bookchain.

It should come as no surprise by now that I’m not a fan of fluff. Still, I bow to the need for light reading in all of our lives and, besides, MommyTrackd’s CEO really wanted me to read this one.

Long before there was Netflix there was Books on Tape, a wonderful service for readers that supplied a huge selection of books for a monthly rental fee, but it went out of the rental business a few years ago, leaving a huge gap for those of us who like to “read” in the car or while we’re doing household chores, or who just enjoy the sound of being read to by skilled professional voices.

The lives of working mothers have caused certain metaphors, not to mention clichés work overtime: we wear a variety of hats; we juggle to keep numerous balls in the air; we wage battles at home and at work – you can surely supply others.

There’s the election, hot on the heels of Halloween, followed too quickly by Thanksgiving and then, good grief, the December holidays. In the midst of these various sorts of hysteria, let’s hear it for an unflashy novel.

Named for the 19th century feminist activist, the project is devoted to preparing an annual list of defiantly “anti-princess” books for girls, from preschool to young adult. Working since 2002, this task force of the American Library Association sifts through hundreds of books each year to single out those that spotlight girls and women who overcome obstacles to defy social expectations.