Friday, April 27, 2018

Trampoline Tent Camping

Charles, Tzivia and Lupin are going to sleep in our tent on our trampoline tonight. I am both so happy that they're sharing this special time and so happy that I have this special time allllll to myself.

Prenatal Appointments with Midwives

My new article on Prenatal Appointments with Midwives just went up on Raise Vegan. I was lucky enough to have my prenatal appointments with Kathy Luch, Maya Horrocks and Melanie Dickson at Peninsula Midwives. Then Tzivia was born in a tub, right in our living room, where I'm sitting in this 2014 picture, when I was 14w5d pregnant.




Thursday, April 26, 2018

Taking Your Vegan Kid to a Birthday Party

My new article just went up on Raise Vegan. It's about taking your vegan kid to a birthday party. I wrote this because I've heard from so many vegan parents who actually skip birthday parties because they're so intimidated by how to maneuver these sorts of spaces. We can help our kids to not feel left out (and to get their cake on) while also easing them into the reality that, yeah, not everybody in the world is vegan, and it's okay to be different.

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

Life With a 3-Year-Old

Tzivia zones out in a haze of vegan taco love
  (that's marker on her hand)

and makes a pile of "my very favorite things in the whole wide world!" 
















(favorite things consist of blue balloon, marker with purposely mismatched lid, pink and greenish yellow spork but not the blue one, 2 white pho spoons, 1 mixer beater, Poppy the troll, and Miss Elena from Daniel Tiger.)

Friday, April 20, 2018

Goodbye to Babywearing?

It was a nice run, but I think I may have worn Tzivia for the last time.

The strange thing about deciding not to have any more kids is all the skills that I'll never use again. Like baby-wearing.

The ease with which I could hoist her on my back, the muscle memory.

The applause I would get from strangers when I'd do it in public.

The last time I wore her was the airport in February, coming home from Florida. I've always worn her in the airport, but now she mostly walks. Now the wearing is more so they don't try to put her in the radiation machine or (my big fear) try to pat her down whether she wants it or not. When you wear a kid through security, you just walk through the metal detector and then they swab your hands. We don't have any trips planned, and by the time we do, she'll be even bigger. Too big to wear?








 I loved wearing her. I loved being together like that, bringing her up to see the world from my height. I loved when she'd fall asleep on me and we'd put the hood up. I loved staying out all day in Italy, her napping on me as we'd explore museums in Rome. Climbing those narrow stairs to the top of St. Peter's Basilica with her on my back, huffing and puffing and no room to stop; then the feeling of pride; I grew her in my body then carried her to (what felt like) the top of the world.



 




Now, instead, 
she wears her own 
"babies" to the 
Farmers' Market, 
in the tiny rainbow
Lenny Lamb
toy carrier 
that looks 
just like mine.

 

Maybe we'll have 
one 
more 
hike 
in us?

Maybe
not.

My baby's 
growing 
up.




 
And I would be remiss if I did not mention that her wonderful Dada wore her almost as much as me:






Sunday, April 15, 2018

Thinking of reviving this blog, if only to have a place to link to in my writer's bio, now that I'm thinking about doing some freelance writing again.

My family, in the house I grew up in (NOT where I'm living):

My amazing 3yo, who loves baking pretend cookies and cupcakes for everyone:

Tzivia baking real scones on the kitchen counter:

The food spread at her 3rd bday party: