The Friday night dinner I made two Shabbats ago was not the best example of my cooking ability. My son had neglected his usual, glorious, three-hour nap, and instead had catnapped a bit while I ran…errands. Whenever I tried to chop anything, he climbed onto something not designed with toddler safety in mind and then attempted to jump off. This added an element of terror to cooking that I could have done without, and did not enhance the final product. “I think this might be the worst food I have… >> Read More
I come from a long line of people who have great difficulty recognizing faces.
The technical term for this is prosopagnosia, and I don’t have a full-blown case, I can recognize people I know…well. That said, I've definitely failed to recognize my first cousin in an elevator, I have been known to say, “Hi, Shabbat Shalom, my name is Amanda. What’s your name?” to the same people in shul many, many, times, and I was very upset to be voted down in my desire to have everyone at my… >> Read More
I had planned on weaning my son from the bottle roughly around the time of my death. I took a bottle until I was 2.5, and my husband thinks he may have had one until he was 4. We are both…fine--why wouldn't we be? What magic wand waved on our first birthdays made one of his and my favorite activities suddenly harmful? I loved his bottle. He loved his bottle. He liked to fondle it while muttering it's name (Baba, obviously). He like to talk about it, stroke it, and think about it. I loved when he cuddled… >> Read More
I knew my life had gotten strange when I found myself standing in my in-laws' living room, having recently purchased my son from a priest, as my husband threw chocolate silver coins down my hooter…hider while I breastfed my son. We were at my in-laws for my son's pidyon haben , a ceremony where a firstborn male child who meets all sorts of criteria, such as resulting from a vaginal birth and not having a mother who is the child of a Cohen or a Levi, is redeemed from… >> Read More
I went to my first postnatal checkup wearing maternity pants that I didn't realize were covered in spit up.
"Next time I see you, I will be sure to make sure that this doesn't happen," I said to…the midwife. Seven months later, due to some rather high doses of steroids, I am still in maternity pants. They are still almost always covered in spit up. Had I known I'd spend longer post-pregnancy in maternity pants than I spent during pregnancy, I definitely would have invested in more pants--particularly since they're regularly soaked in foul-smelling… >> Read More