tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11657117036685480162011-11-27T19:38:26.544-05:00Sacred, and profanePamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.comBlogger1131100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-32799928069191026142009-11-04T15:02:00.000-05:002009-11-04T15:02:18.730-05:00

Sacha has become very interested in cooking lately. I'm glad to see him taking an interest, but alarmed whenever he pulls his chair in front of the lit stove and shouts, “CAN I HELP TOO?” I'm trying encourage him and keep him alive by making things he can help with without putting himself in mortal peril, that he'll actually want to eat, and don't make too much of a mess. I'm sure you can guess

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-8546869472231280542009-10-31T15:00:00.001-04:002009-10-31T15:03:41.678-04:00

My mother-in-law, Barbara Charmaine Goldsteen died early this morning, from complications related to pancreatic cancer. This was her fourth bout with cancer; prior to this, she had survived ovarian cancer three times. Her first two sicknesses occurred before I knew her; when David was a teenager. No cancer diagnosis is good news, and ovarian cancer is especially deadly. When she was first

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-3126469662200550592009-10-30T20:46:00.000-04:002009-10-30T20:46:31.850-04:00

After some wavering, dithering and prevaricating, I have decided to participate in NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month. It rolls off the tongue awkwardly, no? I am going to do my best to post something every day in November, which will be no small undertaking for me. I've stockpiled a few things, and I hope that is not considered cheating. Some items will be short, and a few may be lame,

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-91632606047618388832009-10-28T11:59:00.000-04:002009-10-28T11:59:30.183-04:00

In an exquisite feat of timing, my children fell ill this week in highly choreographed fashion. Gabriel went first, spiking a fever on Sunday evening. Sarah came home early from school on Monday, and Sacha woke up sick in the middle of the night. I thought this most considerate of them, as it means we'll get this round over with quickly, whereas if they'd staggered their sickness, I would be

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-41980353122076773372009-10-22T22:46:00.001-04:002009-10-22T22:47:48.668-04:00

It is hard to comprehend, as you cradle your newborn in your arms, how much this child will annoy and anger you someday. This is the flip side of love; the ones we adore the most are also the ones most skilled at driving us crazy, sometimes in equal measure. Spanking has been out for some time, but now, the tide is turning against yelling at our children. I take this with mixed emotions, as

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-54754023190736309272009-10-21T21:57:00.000-04:002009-10-21T21:57:35.193-04:00

Although there are thousands of ways to cook them, I am not very imaginative when it comes to potatoes. If I'm serving chicken, I make mashed potatoes; with beef, it's roasted or baked potatoes. When I'm feeling frisky I switch it up by serving mashed potatoes with beef, and vice versa. Last Friday night, I made lamb, and by my logic, it called for an entirely different potato preparation. (If

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-4345468674972794922009-10-19T22:25:00.000-04:002009-10-19T22:25:33.632-04:00

My children have all been great dumpers and tossers of things. The basic recipe goes something like: upend one tin of blocks, add a generous amount of Legos, and a smattering of cars. Using your hands, mix well until ingredients are incorporated, and then repeat vigorously, until items are spread to the far corners of the house. Sacha is by far, my most talented child in this respect, and I am

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-42264202896450253402009-10-15T12:48:00.001-04:002009-10-15T13:28:07.676-04:00

Today is an auspicious day in the Goldsteen household. Today is the day we turned on the heat. When we moved to this house almost three years ago, we experienced a severe case of utility sticker shock. We expected our utility bill to roughly double. We thought this was a reasonable assumption, because our new house is roughly one-third larger than our previous house. You can imagine our surprise

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-71251150618120442792009-10-14T14:42:00.001-04:002009-10-14T14:53:46.649-04:00

I don't know what my children have against soup. Aside from miso or the occasional bowl of chicken noodle, the mere suggestion of soup leaves them mortally offended. But because hope springs eternal, I am thick-headed, and I just like making soup,  I persevere. Last week I had a hankering for corn chowder when a recipe for Cheddar Corn Chowder in the Barefoot Contessa Cookbook caught my eye. I

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-43776452600086558152009-10-12T17:05:00.000-04:002009-10-12T17:05:59.728-04:00

Dear Thomas and Amanda Stansel, I am sorry you had such difficulty conceiving children. I can only imagine what heartache that would bring, as I was fortunate enough to conceive my children effortlessly with no intervention. I know this is a blessing. It is understandable that you would turn to a fertility specialist in order to realize your dreams of parenthood. Modern medicine has made many

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-220857455237023132009-10-07T22:13:00.000-04:002009-10-07T22:13:16.645-04:00

I have always had a fondness for the breakfast cocktail. I wouldn't want to make a habit of it, but sometimes, on special occasions, it can be just the thing. Champagne cocktails are lovely, as is the Ramos Gin Fizz. But I have an especially soft spot for the Bloody Mary, which got David and myself through some fraught family gatherings early in our marriage. In keeping with this tradition, on

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-80022073210721660602009-10-06T12:46:00.002-04:002009-10-06T13:09:21.007-04:00

When it comes to clinical depression, I am a lifer. Because I have had more than three episodes of major depression, the likelihood of me slipping into this state again is too strong to risk going without medication. So Depression is a Dilemma for Women in Pregnancy, in today's Science Times, caught my attention. I cannot live without antidepressants, pregnant or not. I suffered crushing

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-57098541576454322822009-10-03T00:16:00.002-04:002009-10-03T00:29:44.984-04:00

I considered many possible titles for this post. Foiled? So Close but yet so far? For the love of the Arctic Monkeys? But perhaps the sentiment that best sums it up is, Fucking Philadelphia. David has always had an irrational hatred of Philadelphia. And while I've never spent an enormous amount of time there, it's always stuck me as a perfectly lovely place. David's visceral response stems from

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-13300334953528431682009-09-29T11:38:00.001-04:002009-09-29T12:48:07.400-04:00

Every parent will tell you that getting one's children to take no for an answer is one of the more frustrating parts of this job. Equally exasperating, but less talked about, is the acceptance of I don't know. I think this has something to do with the perception of parental omnipotence, which is something I'd like to preserve for as long as possible. On the other hand, I don't want to lie to my

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-2628689281172814642009-09-23T22:52:00.000-04:002009-09-23T22:52:01.903-04:00

I don't know if it is because my children are getting older, or I'm just paying better attention, but this year it struck me in an altogether new way how stressful the beginning of the school year is. Between whipping the kids back in to shape and figuring out everyone's schedules, it is like trying to fit together the pieces of an extremely complicated three dimensional Chinese puzzle, and it

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-85833916018368307482009-09-16T14:39:00.000-04:002009-09-16T14:39:06.969-04:00

Last spring as I was planning the menu for my Passover seder, it occurred to me that I did not want to make yet another flourless chocolate cake. Delicious as they are, I was bored of them, and wanted to my menu to be a bit less predictable. I happened to be reading A Homemade Life, Molly Wizenberg's lovely book. Wizenberg's blog Orangette, is a constant source of inspiration to me. And so I

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-50004874789685254802009-09-13T17:08:00.004-04:002009-09-14T20:18:09.747-04:00

We made a deal with Sarah that when she had $1000 in her savings account, we would allow her to withdraw money and purchase something significant, subject to parental approval. She reached her goal last spring, and immediately asked for an iPhone. Vetoed! After being shot down so quickly, she deliberated for a long time. Eventually, she circled back to square one, figuring that if she could not

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-5566054016995911982009-09-05T16:04:00.014-04:002009-09-05T23:17:53.904-04:00

One bit of evidence that life with Sacha children is getting easier is that we are starting to venture again into day trips. In the past, every time we'd get to this stage of family life, I'd done go get knocked up again and set us back a few years, but NO MORE.This week, we went to the High Line. I'd been looking forward to this because I felt a personal connection with the project, as less than

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-56411583608058595122009-09-03T09:05:00.011-04:002009-09-03T11:07:53.333-04:00

Like every other family in the state, we are gearing up for school. This actually involves less preparation than people would lead you to believe. True, bedtime needs to be rolled back, while supplies and new shoes, and haircuts have to be procured, but all of this takes less than 5 hours, so getting ready to go back to school is more a matter of mourning the end of summer, and getting into the

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-89501481689431197312009-09-02T21:04:00.004-04:002009-09-02T22:28:17.565-04:00

When I was writing my dissertation, I worked for an academic think tank that ran a yearly seminar, where literary technology geeks gathered from around the globe to learn about textual analysis and computer encoding for humanities texts.One of my responsibilities was planning this seminar, and the most fun part of the job was working with the caterers to plan the meals. The caterer was Main

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-70360609587813764352009-08-30T13:21:00.005-04:002009-08-30T18:11:39.270-04:00

I have a theory, albeit farfetched and slightly paranoid, that I think many mothers would agree with. I believe that when your first child is born, you leave the hospital, or your birthing bed, not just with your precious newborn, but also, with an ass sensor.Perhaps there is a dormant part of the female anatomy that is activated by all that pushing, or our doctors and midwives install it

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-38001534071455303422009-08-25T10:28:00.004-04:002009-08-25T17:55:58.611-04:00

A few weeks ago, David and I spent a vast amount of money so that I could have my intelligence insulted. It turned out to be worth every penny.At the suggestion of our pediatrician we took Gabriel to see a pediatric neurologist. This doctor does not accept health insurance, and our pediatrician mentioned that his fee was higher than we would normally pay for out-of-pocket medical expenses. When I

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-37016823187095759212009-08-22T13:13:00.011-04:002009-08-22T20:29:16.434-04:00

It is a truth universally acknowledged that boys like to put things in things. In my experience, anecdotal evidence suggests that if there is a hole, a boy is far more likely than a girl to attempt to fill it.First, there are the bodily orifices. Sacha is a great nose picker, and if I have fewer photos of him than I do of Sarah and Gabriel, it is in part, because many of them wind up looking like

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-3176314486736722812009-08-21T21:24:00.003-04:002009-08-21T21:40:07.309-04:00

Last night I had one of those exchanges with Sacha that, taken out of context, was wildly inappropriate.At bedtime, I was snuggling in Gabriel's bed with my boys. Gabriel gets right down to business when it's time to go to sleep, but Sacha, the energizer baby, rarely stops moving. It is also very exciting for him to lie in the bed, because he still sleeps in jail a crib. He bounced about, and

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-56038425274799822302009-08-20T23:42:00.008-04:002009-08-21T08:15:06.164-04:00

Did you know that the ice cream man, that Pavlovian staple of childhood, is A PREDATOR?Neither did I!This is the sort of thing that really chaps my ass. Yesterday the New York Times Dining section devoted a front page article to the latest target of the mommy police: When Parents Scream Against Ice Cream.There are many worthy child rearing causes to be passionate about, but this is not even

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-10178887369374131732009-08-18T07:57:00.006-04:002009-08-18T12:08:09.368-04:00

Gabriel lost his first tooth on Sunday. This was especially exciting, and something of a relief for him. He is seven, and many of his peers have been losing teeth for 2 years now, and he was getting worried.He had even exchanged correspondence with the tooth fairy, asking if she had any insight as to when he might expect this event to occur.Yes, my children and the tooth fairy are pen pals. Her

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-48931245099130614522009-08-15T07:45:00.005-04:002009-08-16T10:26:03.059-04:00

I never knew there was such a thing as love at first sight, but that is the only explanation for my first thought upon seeing you: that is the man I am going to marry. The second thing I thought, because I was such a pessimist at the time, was, I hope he is not gay.I am happy to say that the former turned out to be true, as did the latter.With your forty-first birthday, we have reached the point

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-87679844189338931282009-08-07T21:15:00.004-04:002009-08-07T21:31:15.538-04:00

Spaghetti with Basil Aioliadapted from Giada de Laurentis4-6 servingsNote: This recipe makes enough aioli for two meals, or spread leftover sauce on sandwiches.1 bunch asparagus cut into 1" pieces, tips reserved1 pound spaghetti1 garlic clove, minced2 large egg yolks2 teaspoons Dijon mustard1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice1/2 teaspoon salt1/4 teaspoon black pepperpinch cayenne pepper1/2

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-32433245608156738112009-08-07T20:49:00.005-04:002009-08-07T21:33:17.937-04:00

The bathroom of a suburban home. Three year-old son has stayed up too late, and is overtired. He's also covered in sunscreen, chlorine, aioli, and bits of spaghetti. Mother places child in the tub. Mother: I'm going to wet your hair now. Close your eyes so you don't get water in them.Mother proceeds to pour water over child's head.Son: What are you doing? Don't DO that!Mother: Now I'm going to

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-49287354262276571842009-08-06T20:36:00.005-04:002009-08-06T22:03:54.356-04:00

Yesterday Sacha was watching Dora the Explorer. Dora always end the show by posing summary questions to her viewing audience. As dull as I find the little Latina automaton, it is cute when my kids have a conversation with her."What's your name?" Dora asked."Sacha!" he replied. So far, so good. "How old are you?"Sacha responded, "Seven."And...the buzzer sounded, because the correct answer would be

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-41486501803844152672009-08-05T07:33:00.006-04:002009-08-05T11:14:05.389-04:00

Yesterday was Gabriel's birthday, and my mother and her husband came to spend the afternoon with us. Top notch grandmother that she is, my mother put on a bathing suit and came to the pool. This was a luxury for me, as I am usually too busy keeping the devil Sacha from drowning, so it freed me up to spend the afternoon swimming with Gabriel.The biweekly water aerobics class was ending as Gabriel

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-37302706026769068352009-08-04T07:33:00.005-04:002009-08-04T08:19:27.298-04:00

Today you are seven years old, Gabriel, and not a day goes by where you don't nearly bring me to my knees with your sweetness. In honor of your birthday, here is a list of just seven of the things I love about you:1. We named you for an angel, and every day you live up to your name.2. You wake up singing.3. Recently, we got confirmation of something we already knew: you are very, very smart. But

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-86232752061138748012009-07-23T18:54:00.003-04:002009-07-23T19:12:53.779-04:00

Tonight Sarah went to a swim meet in the rain. I brought the boys home early, as a friend agreed to watch Sarah. When the meet ended, she called to tell us she was on her way home."Hi Mom," she said. "I did really well; I got first place in freestyle.""Great!" I replied."I'm leaving in a minute; could you please run me a hot bath for when I get home?"I did not answer, because I thought it would

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-72624950091614135752009-07-19T11:16:00.004-04:002009-08-31T11:00:34.680-04:00

In the past week, I have been verbally abused, bitten, and hit. One night, as I was getting him washed up for bed, Sacha adopted the telltale male stance, and let loose a stream of urine on my bathroom floor, mere steps from the toilet. It was so deliberate that any doubt I may have had that he perhaps he wasn't yet capable of controlling evacuation was erased. I could practically hear him

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-12507676065744282902009-07-16T11:50:00.010-04:002009-07-16T21:27:18.903-04:00

I recently took a big step forward in housekeeping, and freed myself from the tyranny of the dish drying rack.Ever since we moved house almost two years ago, and were advised to clear everything from our kitchen counters for house showings, I have become slightly fascist about kitchen clutter. While our old house was on the market, it was a pain in the ass to go to the basement to retrieve the

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-56850609483285494342009-07-14T22:26:00.003-04:002009-07-14T23:02:52.066-04:00

It is becoming apparent that my rogue nation does not like the new world order. In other words, he is pissed off at me.It began with subtle remarks that, not coincidentally, entered the lexicon this week. On Saturday morning he was watching TV, and as I bent down to give him a kiss, Sacha turned to me and said, "Could you please go away?" and went back to watching his show.I laughed this off,

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-4280396845396273112009-07-13T20:37:00.008-04:002009-07-13T21:42:07.916-04:00

Since my failed attempt at toilet training Sacha, I have turned to tough diplomacy. Specifically, I have begun to isolate him from the community of nations by denying him two coveted privileges. It has become apparent that I am dealing with a rogue nation who knows that the U.N. has no real power.Put another way, I am attempting to kick him where it hurts, and I am not succeeding.I drive a

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-58108175991372103842009-07-09T22:20:00.003-04:002009-07-09T22:28:04.943-04:00

Sunday night Sacha pulled off his diaper while watching TV, because who doesn't prefer watching their favorite show bare-assed?Instead of replacing his foundation garment, like I usually do, I tried a different approach, just for kicks. I told him he had to sit on the floor, not the couch, and that if he peed, he would loose TV privileges. An hour later, he was still sitting happily, engaged in

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-27048489955112105952009-07-05T11:11:00.008-04:002009-07-05T12:30:00.540-04:00

I have an unofficial tradition of making key lime pie for Independence Day. Unofficial because some years I don't bother and no one suffers for it, but if there is a day during the year that a key lime pie is going to get made by me, this is the one.I settled on key lime pie for several reasons. There are few desserts more American than pie, and it is one of the few types of pie that David likes

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-27050222649020561282009-07-01T17:08:00.007-04:002009-07-01T18:50:48.094-04:00

A Swedish couple has made a decision to keep their child's gender a secret.What a charming idea!I thought we were moving toward a more complex notion of gender by acknowledging that there are inherent differences between the sexes.So many parents start off with the good intention not to define their children by their gender. And then, you have children, and if you are paying any attention, all

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-55824201039996272612009-07-01T15:58:00.007-04:002009-07-01T16:56:27.506-04:00

A few weeks ago, I was flipping through Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything, trying to find something new to do with salmon.How to Cook Everything looks intimidating, but it is very accessible. I liken it to a more contemporary version of the Joy of Cooking or Fannie Farmer. Lately, I find myself referring to this, or The Gourmet Cookbook, far more than the old tried and trues.In the first

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-73194221533671033022009-06-29T22:03:00.003-04:002009-06-29T22:10:03.002-04:00

My children have all had a few annoying habits in common, corresponding with specific developmental stages.First, was shoe flinging, which they all did as young walkers. Whenever they were seated in a stroller or car seat, they immediately proceeded to kick their shoes off. After you spend five minutes wrestling your baby's limp feet into, and then tying the laces of their first pair of shoes,

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-54017849260511429242009-06-27T17:48:00.004-04:002009-06-28T20:07:33.240-04:00

I am still working my way through Ayelet Waldman's book Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace, and yesterday I came across Insult and Injury on Judith Warner's Domestic Disturbances blog.Both deal with the Mommy Police, the judgmental strangers that can't help but offer unsolicited advice or criticism on a mother's parenting, and are the

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-81329742781707673732009-06-25T13:20:00.012-04:002009-06-26T20:54:02.700-04:00

Here is an interesting thread I noticed on XX Factor, a blog on Double X, Slate's newest venture. Double X is a website for women; I've only perused the site briefly, but my first impression is one of cross between Lifetime and Bust Magazine.First Dana Stevens posted Is The "Neda" video a snuff movie?", a somewhat measured musing on the "construction of a martyr mythology in the blogosphere’s

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-80358217656037363342009-06-24T10:23:00.006-04:002009-06-24T15:09:58.314-04:00

Becoming a parent, and getting older in general, entails a willingness to eat a lot of crow.When Sarah was an infant, I remember making a trip to the mall with my mother, and being appalled watching another mother casually converse with someone, while her baby wailed in the stroller. Once we were out of earshot, I turned to my mother and said, "Well, she's not very attentive to her baby."Flash

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-9202444600944315542009-06-22T13:33:00.005-04:002009-06-22T21:25:56.078-04:00

Yesterday morning, David was lying on the couch in the den while the boys watched TV. I watched Sacha climb on top of him, as David executed a skillful maneuver to protect his groin. It is a move he has perfected by now, as he has to utilize it often."I should have gotten you a cup for Father's Day," I said, to which David replied,"Sacha is just nature's way of saying, 'I am your last child.'"

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-40555395654211975102009-06-21T17:44:00.008-04:002009-06-22T13:33:45.511-04:00

This year, David and I experienced a subtle shift in our marital dynamic, which had we not handled it carefully, could have exposed a rift in the state of our union.David switched toothpastes.For longer than we have been married, we have been loyal to Tom's. Our favorite is the cinnamint, but if that is out of stock, we're happy with peppermint, or spearmint. Once, in the spirit of adventure, I

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-82179325829216004202009-06-20T20:59:00.006-04:002009-06-20T21:21:47.873-04:00

For the better part of this week, I have been gripped by events in Iran, a country I've never visited, and until very recently, knew very little about.I've never been a fan of the 24/7 news cycle as practiced by the major cable networks. Partly because I'm not much of a television watcher, but also because I've always found their coverage shallow. While things are changing constantly, most of the

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-42561106958909649592009-06-19T18:58:00.006-04:002009-06-19T19:11:41.187-04:00

No, I'm not talking about those toys, but I do believe there is a strong connection.This week, Sacha found an old Leapster in the bottom of the toy chest in his room. He's not entirely new to this phenomenon, as he's been shadowing Gabriel as he plays Wii for some time now. Sacha holds a broken Wii remote and waves it around as Gabriel plays, and explains to anyone who will listen, “I PLAYING

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-65898398602574075262009-06-18T17:14:00.009-04:002009-06-18T19:46:24.606-04:00

It's possible that there was a stripper somewhere in our family lineage, because our kids sure love to streak.Perhaps David and I set the bar for this, as we have always both slept in our altogether, even before we knew one another. (I hope this does not cross the line into TMI?) But at this point in time, with three children, we're discrete about this, and keep bedclothes immediately at hand for

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-50149822504128244472009-06-17T13:20:00.007-04:002009-06-17T20:02:00.882-04:00

Here is an interesting item from Monday's New York Times.It is about a MeMe Roth, Manhattan mother of two, and her battle against the New York City schools to combat obesity. She is passionate about this issue, and even runs a group, the National Action Against Obesity, dedicated to combating the epidemic of obesity in this country.An admirable cause, no?After reading about her, in this case, I

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-42035040431630847812009-06-15T14:10:00.003-04:002009-06-15T21:41:23.789-04:00

Warning, warning; high horse alert!There is a particular conversation I frequently overhear between parents and children.At school pick-up: "James, please get off that icy patch; Ms. Stein (the principal) says you're not allowed over there."Or, "Olivia; Elaine (the pool manager) won't like it if she sees you drinking water from the pool."What is going on here? Parents, not principals, or any

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-15569935136333779792009-06-14T14:38:00.004-04:002009-06-14T19:25:25.792-04:00

Have I told you about my youngest son Sacha, the most ball-bustingest child I have had to pleasure to spawn?When Sacha was 3 days old, he had a brush with death. He was hypothermic, and had to be rushed to the NICU, where he resided for 16 days. Every parent knows that many aspects of one's temperament are clear from birth. Sacha loves to fight, and I am sure it helped to save his life. While it

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-48873020118547608002009-06-12T20:55:00.012-04:002009-06-12T21:54:04.252-04:00

I would say that Sarah is only a slightly fussy eater. In the scheme of a child's palate, hers is is pretty broad; she enjoys pasta with walnut sauce, all sorts of fish and like all my children, has a passion for mangoes that is slightly frightening.She is also a highly articulate food critic. When she does not enjoy something, she will explain, in great detail, precisely why she can not eat it.I

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-56200070209891031722009-06-11T22:39:00.001-04:002009-06-11T22:41:27.375-04:00

Thanks very much to Kristen Kemp of Barista Kids for this wonderful piece on Hausfrau from last week.

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-81823038714010197992009-06-11T14:09:00.017-04:002009-06-11T22:39:09.869-04:00

I am in the midst of reading Ayelet Waldman's book, Bad Mother, and then today, I stumbled upon this piece on Lisa Belkin's Motherlode blog, entitled "What Mothers Are Unhappy About". It is a guest blog by Jen Singer of MommaSaid.net, which references an economic study, The Paradox of Declining Female Happiness, and a recent New York Times op-ed piece entitled Liberated and Unhappy, by Ross

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-4486625639544918082009-06-10T20:01:00.017-04:002009-06-10T22:39:25.376-04:00

If you are the parent of a boy, you have no doubt noticed that they spend a good deal of time with their hands in their pants.When I was pregnant with Sacha, at my 20-week sonogram, after the technician finished, the doctor came in to take a look at the contents of my belly. As he moved the paddle around, he said, "Now, I don't know if you want to know the sex of this child, and even if you did,

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-58640913795717462802009-06-09T10:49:00.013-04:002009-06-09T14:39:52.237-04:00

I love a good curse word, either spoken, or written. It feels so satisfying rolling off the tongue, and sometimes, an obscenity is exactly the right descriptor. Shit and fuck are my favorites, but asshole comes in handily as well. (You know I am an intellectual because I when I curse, I say fucking, instead of fuckin'.)When I hurt myself, like stub a toe, or hit my ulnar nerve bang my funny bone,

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-20883922850224014792009-06-08T10:16:00.009-04:002009-06-08T11:38:59.469-04:00

One of the first conversations David and I had regarding child-rearing after Sarah was born was that we agreed we wanted to raise a strong-willed girl. To say that Sarah is strong-willed is something of an understatement. She is extremely articulate, has no trouble speaking her mind, and is an ace negotiator. She is very good at getting what she wants. I do not mean to imply that she is spoiled,

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-2880604384508665062009-06-07T19:52:00.003-04:002009-06-08T11:33:41.418-04:00

Anhedonia: Loss of the capacity to experience pleasure. The inability to gain pleasure from normally pleasurable experiences. Anhedonia is a core clinical feature of depression, schizophrenia, and some other mental illnesses.At the beginning of May, I suffered a small setback, and, for a few weeks, experienced a bout of depression. It was my own fault. I mail order my medications—much more

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-56261797360320244222009-06-06T16:21:00.009-04:002009-06-06T18:30:47.819-04:00

It is high time I told you about my favorite sandwich, the one I have not been able to stop eating for several months now. It may seem a little complicated or intimidating, because it starts with No-Knead Bread, but bear with me; it's easy, I swear.I have long had an interest in bread baking. It began when I was in graduate school, and there was no place to get decent bread. Actually, it probably

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-6909201454260062752009-06-05T16:39:00.011-04:002009-06-05T21:10:08.517-04:00

I was late to the social-networking party. By nature, I am not the most social of creatures; my idea of a fun Friday evening is dinner with my family, and in bed by 10pm. (Wouldn't you love to hang out with me?)I've been so busy with the child rearing this past decade, that it wasn't until I got my iPhone that I began to move into the twenty-first century. And while I heard my friends talking

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-78971928553175161302009-06-04T09:21:00.009-04:002009-06-04T11:29:16.600-04:00

Since becoming a parent, two rituals have become very important to me; my morning coffee, and my evening cocktail. I love the coffee for several reasons, chief among which is that it tastes so delicious. The caffeine is nice, but secondary; when I was pregnant with Sacha, I could not metabolize caffeine very well; one cup and I felt like a speed freak. So I switched to a half decaf blend, and

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-81077615559684158852009-06-03T18:10:00.005-04:002009-06-03T20:29:18.543-04:00

You may recall I went to Costco earlier this week. One of the things on my list was sunscreen; now that the Montclair Beach Club has opened, it is time to lay in a supply.But when I arrived at the sunscreen display, I just couldn't do it. They were selling two brands, one with an SPF of 50, and the other, 70. WTF?What has happened to 15 and 30?The way I understand it, as a layperson (any

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-70418616111932219362009-06-02T17:35:00.012-04:002009-06-02T21:52:05.272-04:00

The need for siblings to fight is as primal as their love for one another; they are hard wired for both. As Sarah explained to me recently, "Mom, Gabriel and I love each other very much, but we're just at that stage where we don't get along that well." Siblings are rivals for their parents' affections, always trying to best each other in our eyes. While sibling rivalry is a fact of life, so is

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-25658861401227097022009-06-01T18:08:00.006-04:002009-06-01T20:26:42.705-04:00

Ten years into suburban living, I'm just going to come right out and say it. I like Costco!For many people, suburban, and even urban now, the big box store is an inescapable part of life. Unless you are extremely wealthy, or extremely stupid, or perhaps both, everyone is looking for a good deal, especially in these troubled times. And that is where Costco comes in.When we first moved back to New

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-89987016023538521102009-05-31T17:25:00.007-04:002009-06-02T20:59:43.789-04:00

Sacha, my youngest child, is a slip of a thing--he is 3-1/2, and just hit 30 pounds a month ago--but he is mightily strong for, as my grandfather would have said, such a skinny malinx. He is also one of the most willful forces of nature I have yet to encounter, and I know from strong-willed children. Sacha is the child who has famously yelled at David or myself, on more than one occasion, GIVE

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-79125017864926130832009-05-30T14:42:00.014-04:002009-05-31T12:40:07.464-04:00

In this week's New York Times Magazine, Lisa Belkin suggests that the age of over-parenting may be coming to a close.Hallelujah! I've never been much of a subscriber to this philosophy. Even as a first-time mother, when I knew nothing, I thought those Baby Einstein video tapes (DVDs now, I guess), were bullshit. They may be entertaining to a baby, but so is their own foot, or a box of tissues.

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-60131824698964424862009-05-30T13:45:00.007-04:002009-05-30T14:21:11.010-04:00

I tend to use a lot of lemon zest in my cooking, often in recipes where lemon juice is not called for. This leaves me with a lot of denuded lemons in my refrigerator.I try not to waste them, so I squeeze the juice into a glass of water, or put a cut up lemon in the dishwasher, which I read once, somewhere, helps keep the inside of the machine clean. I haven't done any scientific analysis to check

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-48935347207509189272009-05-29T14:15:00.009-04:002009-05-29T20:12:14.665-04:00

Yesterday afternoon I was busy writing, and let Sacha watch entirely too much television--it's the cheapest babysitter around!When it was time to pick up Sarah and Gabriel from school, I went into the den and gave him the five-minute warning. I also noticed that he was not wearing any pants.This is not unusual, because my children, especially my boys, have a very casual relationship with clothing

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-77578222777359523742009-05-28T21:48:00.007-04:002009-05-29T07:34:34.749-04:00

Much of the world is in thrall with our first family. I know many women who have a crush on President Obama. It is hard not to; he is charming, intelligent, lithe and graceful. He moves like a cat. And have you seen those abs? I challenge you to name a country with a sexier President. (To say nothing of his Chief of Staff, my personal object of affection. Typical Jewess; always a soft spot for

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-19751925945219328782009-05-28T12:55:00.012-04:002009-05-29T07:38:05.249-04:00

As a parent, as word that the first case of H1N1, or Swine Flu, has hit my children's school district, it is hard not to panic. As soon as you become a parent, the urge to panic is fierce.You can't help but see the world through different eyes. You are responsible for a tiny, helpless, extremely vulnerable creature, and the world seems like a far more dangerous place.A few days after Sarah, my

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-38704572402691986892009-05-27T13:21:00.012-04:002009-05-27T22:18:30.020-04:00

Two weeks ago, David and I went to see the Shins, at the Wellmont Theater. It was a nice show, good, not great--certain performers, namely my beloved, lamented Sleater Kinney, Rufus Wainwright and Ted Leo-- have set the bar so high for me in terms of what I expect in live music. I am thrilled to have this beautiful theater right in my town; while I love going to New York to see a show, the

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-40965374670818829172009-05-26T13:42:00.021-04:002009-05-26T21:47:31.598-04:00

For a year and a half now, I have been having a love affair with a highly sophisticated mechanical device. No, it is not a vibrator, but I'm pretty sure if I checked the App Store, I would likely find something to satisfy those needs.It is my iPhone.I have long been a PDA kind of girl. I got my first Palm Pilot in the late 1990s, when I still worked for pay, in an actual office. I succumbed to

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-24081195260417374602009-05-25T21:45:00.005-04:002009-05-28T21:43:18.495-04:00

Last week, Sarah got in a bit of trouble for being a bit too lax about her Spanish project, and as a result, she lost her computer privileges.But like a jail house lawyer, she is always looking for the loopholes, and she is quite expert at exposing them. On Tuesday, in preparation for a math test, she told me she would like to use the computer to go to some math study sites her teacher has

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-46354209692922732162009-05-25T07:52:00.010-04:002009-05-28T21:45:43.189-04:00

I love coffee in any form, but as weather has warmed, my thoughts, and my palate, have turned to iced coffee. Last summer, we took a real vacation, all five of us, and went to visit my brother and sister-in-law in Portland, Oregon. How I loved that city. Although surprisingly (to my younger self), I am quite happy living in New Jersey, were the opportunity to arise, I would jump at the chance to

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-76713294554169710052009-05-24T08:10:00.006-04:002009-05-24T11:44:15.801-04:00

Yesterday was opening day at the Montclair Beach Club, something my children were looking forward to with great anticipation. As Saturday approached, Sarah and a friend began planning where they would rendezvous as if it were a college reunion, and they lived on opposite ends of the country. (They see each other every day, in school.) They made elaborate plans to meet by the diving board at 1.30.

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-39352609701519010082009-05-23T12:34:00.002-04:002009-05-23T13:12:00.098-04:00

It is true that we all inevitably, to some extent, become our mothers, in ways both great and small. To give a trivial example, I have on occasion found myself transferring leftovers into smaller containers to make space in the fridge, which for my mother, was something of a hobby. In my case, I find that I am also finding that I am becoming my grandmothers. Specifically, I am referring to the

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-91447822275294101722009-05-23T12:02:00.006-04:002009-05-23T17:08:07.851-04:00

Yesterday afternoon I was running errands with my boys, and we stopped at Stew Leonard's for beer. It was a bit more busy than is usual, this being Memorial Day weekend, with people gearing up for the start of the OFFICIAL SUMMER DRINKING SEASON. (As opposed to Thanksgiving, the start of the OFFICIAL WINTER DRINKING SEASON.)As a promotion, there was an inflatable bear at the door, courtesy of

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-18404931292329828922009-05-22T17:57:00.007-04:002009-05-22T18:32:18.295-04:00

Two incidents this week reminded me just how little children need to be happy.Gabriel's school folder wore out a few weeks ago; it tore down the center. This bothered him a lot, and I told him I would get him a new one. But of course, it slipped my mind whenever I was out running errands. On Tuesday when he got home from school he mentioned again that he needed a new folder, and feeling slightly

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-36419699184139138442009-05-21T14:06:00.019-04:002009-05-21T18:13:25.845-04:00

My mother called me last night, with some news."I had some cosmetic surgery today," she told me."Oh," I replied, trying maintain a neutral tone of voice, "What did you do? "I got some Restylane injections. It's been something I've wanted to do for a long time, so I decided to treat myself.""So, how does it look?" I asked."Well, it's hard to say right now, because of the bruising [WTF!!], so I

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-19608366269440748052009-05-21T13:36:00.004-04:002009-05-21T17:58:59.367-04:00

Sometimes, you don't need the Onion, or the Daily Show, to find comedy in the news. An Ohio woman and her lover were arrested for having sex in the front seat of the car, while the woman's two children were in the back seat.And to think, all these years, I thought the back seat was was the place for fucking. The money quote, from mom: "We got horny, and just wanted to fuck." On the one hand, EEEW

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-28665503866563673272009-05-18T22:07:00.006-04:002009-05-19T16:52:25.704-04:00

Sarah had a Spanish project due today. Although she knew about it for several weeks, I only learned about it last week, and not from her, but from another mother. Once I found out, I asked her about it, and then promptly forgot about it myself--my mind's been a bit of a sieve lately; I poured orange juice on Cocoa Puffs this morning--until Saturday, when she called said friend to play, only to

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-72661652630750558002009-05-18T07:33:00.009-04:002009-05-20T14:14:27.187-04:00

Asparagus is in season and reasonably priced, so it is now in regular rotation in our house. Often I simply roast it in the oven with salt and pepper, and serve it as a side dish but last week, I decided to toss it in a cream sauce over pasta. Although I cook most nights of the week, I try to make Friday night's meal slightly more special for Shabbat. This is one of my favorite family traditions.

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-6427046839344858862009-05-16T16:05:00.015-04:002009-05-21T12:53:32.598-04:00

My son Gabriel makes me weak in the knees. He is just about the sweetest boy you could imagine. True, I am his mother, and my objectivity is questionable, but he is really extraordinarily sensitive to the feelings of others. He asks me regularly about my day, and when I tell him what I did, he asks probing follow-up questions that let me know that not only is he listening to me when I tell him,

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-80779238706909537702009-05-14T16:58:00.009-04:002009-05-15T07:32:40.440-04:00

I have been suffering from a slight imbalance of humours lately; ie, I've been a bit depressed. One of the symptoms of my affliction is that my normally high need for order in the house begins to border on compulsive. At these times, the blessing of abundance, all the accountrements of life with kids, and the need to keep it in some semblance of order, gnaws at my soul.I would never wish

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-75769241235160236602009-05-14T06:53:00.003-04:002009-05-14T16:56:53.092-04:00

Appropriate is one of my children's favorite words. Of course they learned it from me, because so often when I say no to something, and they ask for an explanation, I answer, because it's inappropriate. But there is something about the word that really appeals to them; they use it frequently, savoring the sound of each syllable as they ask, "Is this a-PPRO-priate?"Last night Sarah asked David, "

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-42433712425583325862009-05-11T20:49:00.003-04:002009-05-11T22:11:39.813-04:00

Homemade pizza is having a moment. I spotted it last month, in the New York Times Magazine, and a few days later on Michael Ruhlman's blog, not to mention in this month's issue of Martha Stewart Living. Although I go through phases, I've been making pizza for dinner about once a week for many years. I like playing with yeast; there was a time, many years ago, when I used to cultivate wild yeast

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-56378490816723933982009-05-08T13:20:00.007-04:002009-05-08T14:29:57.062-04:00

It is with some sadness that I write today that me and my Roomba have parted ways.I have something of a mania for vacuuming. Although one's dharma changes over time, for at least the past decade, vacuuming has been an important element of mine. It began when I was a newly married graduate student, yearning for a companion during my solitary hours of study, but not ready to commit to a dog. (I'm

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-16817562627530031992009-05-06T17:45:00.002-04:002009-05-06T18:03:23.319-04:00

My daughter was home sick yesterday, and both boys were at school, so we had the morning free. Normally I'd suggest a cooking project, but yesterday, a rainy day when you just wanted to huddle under the covers, I asked if she wanted to watch a movie. It seemed appropriately decadent, since I'd never turn the television on for myself during the day. Sarah is at that in between place where

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-46138392884928606352009-05-05T21:23:00.005-04:002009-05-05T22:01:45.412-04:00

I adore silence. I like to ease into my day slowly, and if it were up to me, no one would speak to me for an hour or so. I enjoy gabbing, but I could go hours without speaking and be utterly happy. When I went on retreat during my first yoga teacher training, we would have silent mornings, where we did not speak from the time we woke until after breakfast, when the day's lessons began. This made

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-4326474532531796302009-05-05T18:29:00.000-04:002009-05-05T18:30:16.958-04:00

I am a housewife. Some people may call me a stay-at-home-mom, I prefer to call a spade a spade. I am highly educated and intelligent, and I like being a housewife. It is my trade, and my dharma. Like many jobs, housewifery can be extremely dull. The financial renumeration sucks, but it is also the most satisfying, rewarding job I've ever held. So in addition to the child care and cleaning, and

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-17769098527401055002009-04-22T22:50:00.008-04:002009-04-23T00:02:23.756-04:00

Passover is my least favorite holiday. Seders are lovely, but I loathe the eight days of eating matzah. Any gentile will tell you how delicious matzah is with butter and salt, and while that may be true, bread and butter is infinitely more so. Not only does matzah taste like cardboard, it is notoriously binding. All I'll say is two weeks out from Passover, and my system is still recovering.I was

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-73406209271539239012009-04-07T10:49:00.009-04:002009-04-07T15:52:07.179-04:00

It is hard to imagine how it is that you're turning ten today, though indeed you are. There are few times when it seems your life begins again, and that was certainly the case when I first held you in my arms and became your mother. I am not good at documenting milestones. You will likely never have a baby book; many of our family photographs (when we still printed stills), are in a box in the

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-28956003583249775832009-03-31T14:14:00.005-04:002009-03-31T14:50:12.906-04:00

Last Saturday evening was Earth Hour. I'm not certain what, if any, relationship there is between Earth Hour and Earth Day. Is the former meant to be a replacement for the latter, or something else entirely? Has Earth Day been such a smashing success that it's no longer necessary, or is a case of readjusting overly optimistic expectations to accommodate our short attention spans?Regardless, it is

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-65821024941035085832009-03-05T15:59:00.007-05:002009-03-05T16:32:06.940-05:00

Sacha is famous for cross-pollination of toys; all day long he brings upstairs toys down, and downstairs toys up, where they all have a meet-up on the first floor. Today this was driving me especially insane, so I decided, on a whim--I can do that, because I'm the MOM--that it was time for the kids to clean up the playroom. I myself avoid this odious chore at all costs, because a) it sucks; b)

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-37265568119645484442009-03-02T21:25:00.007-05:002009-03-03T17:47:15.829-05:00

A few months ago I was awoken by David abruptly bolting out of bed. For the next few minutes, all I heard was the sound of the toilet flushing, repeatedly.My first thought was that David was sick, but this was unlikely. Not to put too fine a point on it, but in the twenty years that I have known him, he has vomited on exactly one occasion, and that was after having a bad reaction to a raw milk

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-18278566002388552552009-02-26T09:30:00.013-05:002009-02-26T17:46:28.768-05:00

Sarah's homework assignment last night was to write an essay about what might happen if you'd had the opportunity to meet Jackie Robinson. This is her story.This weekend I was going to sleep late but at 6:00am on Saturday Jackie Robinson knoked [sic] on my door. I was so surprised. I said, "Oh my god. What are you doing here?""You won an art contest. I'm the prize. A lesson.""I don't want to

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-66826469098535487522009-02-23T17:36:00.010-05:002009-02-25T10:09:38.205-05:00

On Sunday afternoon David and I availed ourselves of some free babysitting (thanks, mom!). Our plan was to see Waltz for Bashir, but despite arriving an hour and fifteen minutes early, that, and every film that fit our time frame, was sold out. What were we to do? Drink!This was Sunday afternoon in the suburbs, though; not a lot of choices. Upon entering the first establishment, the host told us

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1165711703668548016.post-81883881748552992952009-02-16T16:41:00.005-05:002009-02-16T17:45:02.523-05:00

The nice thing about writing about food is that it totally takes the subject line pressure off. It's so straightforward; no clever hook needed. Granola.I used to make a very satisfactory granola years ago, based on a recipe, or really, more a formula, from Cooks Illustrated. My friend Sharon liked it so much that I lent her my copy, and it accidentally wound up in her recycling bin. (This just

Pamelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06493819941830411629noreply@blogger.com0