I don't know what it is like to raise children outside of New York City. When my kids were little, I spent huge swaths of my time in the playground with my kids .During that time I developed intense friendships with the other mother's and sitters in the park. We knew intimate details about one another's' lives. We would share struggles with infertility or health or behavioral issues our children were struggling with. We might know about issues that one or another was going through in our marriages. We didn't always remember last names. Often I would run into one of these friends as we were pushing strollers up and down Broadway or walking our kids to and from school or their various afterschool activities. Those moments on Broadway were a chance to catch up on our lives to share and solve problems together. As we and our kids grew older we might talk about struggles getting into the right middle school or a kid having issues with drugs or mental health issues or...
A blog, mostly about my work making Jewish ritual objects, but with detours into garment making, living in New York City, cooking, and other aspects of domestic life. A note about comments: I love comments from readers, from spammers, not so much. I approve comments before posting them so comments are not cluttered with junk. It may take a few hours before your posts appear. Be patient. If you are a real person with a real comment it will be posted.