It’s the perfect pairing in a way; a mom who couldn’t possibly have prepared for what lay ahead and a mom on a mission to help parents be prepared on a daily basis. The former is Jordana Holovach, a mom who, in the face of her son Jacob’s struggle with Canavan disease (a degenerative birth disorder with severe physical and perceptual consequences), founded Jacob’s Cure to raise awareness and funds for clinical research. The latter is Stacie Mindich-Jordan, the mom behind BabyDish’s BabyBeReady Diaper Bag Survival Kit, a baby essentials tote that helps take some of the guesswork out of on the go infant care.
Inspired by Holovach’s passionate fight and Jacob’s bright smile (he is beating the odds at age 10), Mindich-Jordan created the Jacob's Cure Smiley Bag (shown), a limited edition addition to her line of waterproof, compact diaper bags that can be purchased empty ($45-$50) or fully loaded with gear stowed neatly in the two inner zipped sections ($99; includes onesie, sun hat, bib, burp cloth, diapers, changing pad, travel wipes, rattle, bottle, and pacifier). Not only will you have peace of mind in being prepared, but you’ll feel good knowing that 40% of the proceeds from this bag go directly to Jacob’s Cure.

Tonight my sister and I were talking about how lonely it can be to be alone.  She doesn't talk about her personal life much on her excellent blog, so I won't go into her business here, but suffice it to say that the good men of Chicago are totally missing out on one hot, intelligent, gainfully employed and funny young woman.  Shame on them.

She told me it's hard for me to imagine being in her shoes, and I know she's right. I've talked about that with other single friends.  It is nearly impossible to imagine being in someone else's relationship or someone else's lack of a relationship.  We only have our own compasses with which to navigate.  Sometimes, though, it helps to read the stories of others.

Which leads me to my latest review:  The Honeymoon's Over:  True Stories of Love, Marriage and Relationships.  I'm going to have to beat Hachette to start sending me bad books, or ya'll are going to think I've gone soft, but I loved this one, too.  God, the writing!

For the past two weeks, I've though I might be pregnant.  This morning, I found out I'm definitely not.

I wasn't trying to get pregnant.  There was some carelessness on vacation.  Mistakes were made. But as the days without the familiar achiness slid by, I started to wonder.  I did a little mental calculation. I realized if I were pregnant, the baby would be due in December.  Of 2007. This year.

And though there was a little bit of disappointment this morning when I saw it was not to be, I realized I am not ready, not this moment, to do it again. 

I have written extensively in the past about whether or not to have another child.  We were staunchly against it when the little angel was eight months old and we were still mourning our old lives.  We were against it at 18 months when she began the Six Months of No Sleeping Hell. We questioned our thinking when she went from a nonsleeping mess machine to a freakishly verbal, making-up-poop-jokes-and-helping-set-the-table two-year-old.  As we round the corner bumping up against three, we're on board with giving the little angel a sibling on whom she can blame all of her problems later in life.  It will give her someone else to blame besides us, and we're giving like that.

Somehow finding out I'm not pregnant made me think hard about where we are in our grand plan.  We know we want to move to a house with a safer yard, a better school district.  We've been talking about moving for years, and we even put our house on the market for a very unfortunate period of time in 2004.  I started thinking about being pregnant and moving and taking the little angel out of The Emerald City all at once, and how horribly unfair that would be to her.  I realized we have to start tackling these changes one at a time, so it doesn't all happen at once to her. I know kids are resilient, but as her parents, we should try to make her transitions as easy as we can.

Driving to work this morning, I noticed all the construction going on in downtown Kansas City. When I moved here in 1998, you could shoot a bazooka down Main Street at 5:15 p.m. and not hit a living soul. Now you can't move for all the cranes and shiny newness. For a long time, Kansas City was afraid to improve.  Change = scary.  I love the change downtown.  I love how vibrant it makes the city feel.  As much as my beloved and I can be cautious financially, I think it's time to start looking at making some of the changes we've known for years it's time to make. 

As the Editor Across the Aisle said this afternoon, "You are a woman of action!"  I called a contractor to get a bid on fixing the plaster, replacing the front door, doing the things we need to do to sell the house.  Let's get this show on the road. Someday there will be a baby, and I don't want to have to store it in the office closet.

From day one, Laurel has been utterly (sometimes maddeningly) discriminating when it comes to the origin of her nutrients. She waged a fierce battle over taking breastmilk from a bottle (guess who ultimately lost that one…), and flat out refused to eat jarred baby food after months of exposure to homemade food. Once she hit toddlerhood, I repeatedly tried to entice her with store bought chicken nuggets (or other easy freezer items) to no avail.

One day we had little else other than chicken breast, eggs, and breadcrumbs in the fridge so I decided to make chicken tenders for the grownups. I didn't expect Laurel to respond favorably since she had shown little interest in meat, but she went crazy over them, particularly served with San-J Sweet & Tangy sauce (shown; click thumbnail to enlarge). These tenders now are a weekly staple, served with rice and vegetables.
To prepare the tenders, slice chicken breast (one whole breast – about 1 pound – is enough for 2 adults and 1 toddler, plus some leftovers) into pieces about ¼ inch thick and place in a bowl. Crack an egg over the chicken and mix to coat. Pour some breadcrumbs (we use Ian’s Italian Panko Breadcrumbs, shown) in a separate bowl and mix with a little salt. Heat a skillet at medium heat and thinly coat with olive oil (we have a terrific double burner griddle that allows us to do the entire batch at once). Coat chicken pieces in breadcrumbs and fry until golden and cooked through, about a minute or so on each side.

I can hardly blame Laurel for wanting homemade. These tenders are fabulous, and the leftovers do well either cut up in little chunks for her school lunch, or in pressed panini sandwiches layered with avocado, tomato, and cheese.

It’s always a bit of a retail bummer when you find a design you love that’s unavailable in the right size or styling for the season. That’s why we love the customization offered by Makrista Baby.

Makrista features a lovely collection of whimsical, watercolor style designs that can be applied to a variety of 100% cotton clothing styles and accessories (0-36 months). Images can be screen-printed onto pebble or white garments, or placed against rich, hand-dyed colors via their cool new distressed patches (images are sewn on the chest; wording at the back neckline). During these troubled times, the “World Peace” graphic (shown on a short-sleeved romper; $30; click thumbnail to see detail) brings hope.

It's almost St. Patrick's Day, which I swear my mother celebrates far more than a woman who is only partly Irish should, even though she did sport some pretty red hair for most of her life.  Every year on St. Patrick's Day she would leave my sister and I some appalling Avon pin outside our doors and plaster shamrocks (never four-leaf clovers, because that is a sin) about the house.  I love that she took it so far, especially considering she doesn't even drink. Ever.

Anyway, I suppose it is because of her I've always embraced my very eensy-weensy bit of Irish heritage.  I'm mostly German, which was a totally boring thing to be when you live in Scandinavian/Germanland, otherwise known as IOWA.  After moving to Chicago, being German got a little more interesting, and being Irish like totally fucking rocked.  Chicago loves their Irish.

So, in preparation for the upcoming holiday, my beloved and I decided to go see an Irish band when we were visiting my parents last weekend.  We went to this great bar which was once visited by U2, it is so dang Irish.  We were excited.  We ordered drinks.  We sat down, expecting oh, maybe "The Unicorn Song" or something.

Instead, we got about an hour of "my dad died, my sister slept with a soldier, my mother's gone mad and I'm only seven" sort of songs.  I commented on the misery spouting from the accordion player about halfway through the set.  "Mmm-hmmm," said my beloved, concentrating on his beer.  But about three songs later, he tapped my arm.  "You're totally right," he said.  "This is really rough."

Well.  I did take a few Irish literature classes in graduate school, and I do know that for quite some time, the luck of the Irish was sort of an oxymoron.  Those poor Irish, they had it really rough, and it's totally not fair.  I'm not surprised they wrote a whole bunch of sad songs about people drowning and going off to war and doing shit for England that they didn't want to do. (Don't worry, Irish, we got those English - they went to Iraq!  Bet they didn't want to do that!)  But come on, sad Irish band, I know damn well there are quite a few happy little jigs and drinking songs in your repertoire.  What up?

So anyway, it is fortunate that wasn't my first experience with an Irish band. Because if it was, I would've had to go put rocks in my pockets and walk into the Missouri River after listening to that band.

Although I always will carry my bridesmaid memories with me, I plan on finding use for all of my attendant dresses at least by the turn of the next decade.

Laurel loves playing dress up at school, so yesterday I decided to put some of my bridesmaid pieces to work after a collective decade of dormancy. While the colors, fabrics, and silhouettes of a couple of the dresses do, in fact, offer Project Runway inspired recycling potential, the dated bolero jacket from one dress was ready to go, as was another dress that was beyond recycling. I cut the latter off at the hips to accommodate its new owner and attached a tie to the remaining skirt piece to make a shiny, red cape. The recycled garments were a huge hit, and now I can mentally move the money I had planned on spending on dress up clothes towards some fabulous spring fashion to fill my empty hangers. Ah, crafty parenting...

Sometimes (particularly after a stretch of indulgent eating) serving as a fashion consultant to a friend is more fun than shopping for yourself. Yesterday I had great fun hitting the maternity pavement with a girlfriend desperately in need of bumpworthy business attire.

After checking out Target and Kohl’s, both of which have a few business separates options but are better suited for casual wear, we hit the jackpot at Destination Maternity in Natick. Surprisingly not overwhelming in square footage, this one-stop shopping location includes retail areas each for Motherhood, Mimi Maternity, A Pea in the Pod, Destination Maternity, and Edamame Spa, which ensures satisfying a range of budgets and clothing styles, whether you are in the market for a $10 basic vs. $300 designer dress.
Destination Maternity offers a small number of physical locations around the country; the Natick store gets a thumbs up for including a play area for kids and a spacious lounge area for weary shoppers and shopping partners. They also offer free fitness and pre/postpartum classes in their learning studio (check the site's store location section for class schedules).

Destination Maternity, 104 Worcester Road (Rte 9, eastbound side), Natick; Tel: 508-653-1605

Regular readers may know that Jon and I have developed skepticism about the ability to have a relaxed meal out with a busy two-year-old in establishments other than cafes or diners. But last night we tried again, and Laurel rewarded us by being an angelic dinner companion for nearly an hour and a half at Tamarind House in Porter Square.

It’s possible that the 15-minute post-nap tantrum over Laurel’s distaste for wearing pants depleted her crazy mojo reserve; or perhaps she’s just growing into a more mature dining out buddy. Those possibilities aside, a few other factors no doubt helped the cause. We hope these "dining dos" will prove useful for your future family dining:
1) Dine early to facilitate quick service. We were seated shortly after 5:30pm; appetizers arrived minutes after we ordered them, thus quickly engaging Laurel in her beloved dumplings. 2) Booths rock. In addition to serving to sequester Laurel (she can’t resist climbing up and down repeatedly on regular chairs), these particular booths were high backed, so Laurel wasn’t tempted to play with the people sitting behind us (as in Know Your Limits). 3) Interesting décor helps. Tamarind House isn’t terribly ornate, but they do have some pretty colored lamps and other accoutrements that Laurel was excited to check out. We walked her around during the brief intervals while we were waiting for food to arrive to give her a break from sitting. 4) Mix it up. We ordered two appetizers and two entrees and the pacing and variety of the food worked beautifully. All told Laurel ate an astonishing pile of brown rice, spring rolls, dumplings (5 of them!), and baby corn. She was so content that we even stayed for dessert. And she was so chill after that that we even had time to stroll down the block to get mama a café au lait at Simon's before heading home.

We’re by no means setting this experience as the bar for future outings, but we are still relishing in the glow of having had a fun and relaxing outing as a family while enjoying real adult food and no dishes to clean up at home.

Tamarind House, 1790 Mass. Ave., Cambridge; Tel: 617-491-9940