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It all started this past April as I went to our local Kosher grocery store to stock up for holiday food. On Passover Jews around the world give up eating leavened flour products for eight days. As part of this tradition, many food products, like dairy products and condiments, are made uniquely for Passover. More observant Jews follow all the rules, eating only foods that bear the Kosher for Passover stamp.

I walked the Passover aisles at the grocery store, cringing as I read ingredients. Almost everything contained cottonseed and palm oil, dyes with weird names and numbers, lots of sugar, and a wide range of toxic ingredients that I would never, never buy. $250 later, I walked out with bags full of four days worth of poor-tasting, chemical-filled foods.

Days later I had coffee with an old friend who told me she decided to stop eating beef after following the Mark Bittman (of The New York Times) series of articles about the foods we eat, and after reading an article she read in 2008 in Scientific American magazine. She felt that buying and eating beef was simply the worst thing she could do for the environment. In my incessant need to do research, and my commitment to doing the best I can do to save the planet, I started reading myself. As it turns out conventionally raised meat is one of the BIGGEST contributors to global warming.

The following week a relative told me his best friend - a doctor - had completely given up conventional meat years earlier, convinced that the animals were just not healthy enough for human consumption.

"What about Kosher cows?" I asked. I read years back that Kosher cows are better screened for illness before slaughter. He explained most Kosher cows come from the same farms that conventional cows do.

I decided to buy Kosher organic beef; it seemed like the best compromise. It has less of an environmental impact, it is healthier, and it meets my religious requirements. Not only is it almost impossible to find Kosher organic beef, but once you find it, it costs a million dollars per pound.

My head was spinning. How could I resolve these dilemmas? Should I just stop buying beef? Beef is one of the only meats Emelia will eat! How do I keep getting these little bits of iron into her body if I get rid of beef?

I started thinking, no obsessing, about the morals and values our families raise us with. We make our way through the world shaped by the things we learn at home - some ideas we cling to and some we reject, all while trying to figure out what works for each of us.

What happens when your religious values begin to conflict with your world values? More and more, I'm finding my world values overpowering my religious ones. I feel like there are a whole new set of questions to ponder. I'm not going to delve into existential issues. Assuming there is a greater power - God, Buddha, whatever you believe - it is hard for me to believe that this greater power would want me to spend $250 on 4 days worth of food that is artery-clogging and probably contains radioactive dyes and colors. I can't shake the feeling - he, she or it - would be appalled by the mess we've created on our planet and in our bodies.

I'm shocked that more ministers, priests, and rabbis aren't talking about this. In this period of environmental crises and degrading health, it seems that religious institutions should be preaching healthier eating, exercising, cleaning up our waterways, turning off our light bulbs, conserving water and energy. I don't mean to make this blog so down-and-out serious. I generally try to keep things light, but suddenly I feel like I need to make choices. Thinking about it gives me a headache.

My husband and I decided that we are only going to buy minimal Kosher for Passover food next year. We're not switching out our healthy foods for crap-filled ones. I can't believe that was ever the intention of the holiday. As for meat, well, for now we're giving up beef. We'll try to make do with turkey and chicken and see how it goes from there. In my heart I know the right thing to do is to buy organic, but there are some traditions that are so ingrained, it is hard to let them go.

I can't believe how quickly the months flew by. There have been lots of events and changes in my family's life that have kept me on my toes.

As you know, I wrote (and completed) my first young adult novel. I then tried to get into a writer's workshop to work on this novel. The application process stressed me out. It was a weird flashback to college and graduate school applications. I kept telling myself that it wasn't a big deal, but it really was. For the first time - in a long time - I was trying to do something that was all about me. I couldn't wait for the opportunity to immerse myself with fellow writers, to brainstorm and to take my writing to the next level. But there is more on the line. I haven't sold a book in a few years. The economy is bad, and my faith in my abilities are beginning to waiver. Surely I am more than a two trick pony! I did it once, I have to be able to do it again, right?

I also took on a new role with BabyZone.com and Kaboose.com. Rather than focusing just on the short few months around our annual toy awards, I became the official Toy Advisor, working year-round. I'm excited because it gives me the time and space to run these awards in a more organized fashion. The best part is that I got to go to Toy Fair in New York City. Despite a seriously nasty cold, it felt great to be out there mingling with peers, talking shop.

In between becoming an expert on the latest children's product laws (the CPSIA) and wrapping up a music-filled teen romance novel, I planned a birthday party for one daughter and a charity event for my other daughter's school.

There are still major challenges to be met. I have hardly any childcare for the number of hours I need to work. Childcare costs lots of money and times are tough; I just don't make enough to justify it. (I dream about getting to work all day instead of all night!)

However, there are signs things may be turning around:

I am speaking (for a fee) to a group of families about our toy awards and how to select the right products for your family,
I am brainstorming a new novel, and best of all,
I got into the writer's workshop!

I was all alone when I got the news. I did a little happy dance around my living room and took a deep breath.

It's spring again, and spring always makes me feel optimistic. I just bought some baby lettuce and snap peas, and I feel like if I can actually grow them anything is possible.

It's amazing how time flies. I've been writing a novel since the first of the year. I have been wanting to attend a young adult novel writing workshop for some time. It is expensive, so I've put it off year after year. But my girls are older, and my writing has kind of stalled through the years as I've focused my attention on them. I feel like it is time to shift some of the focus back to me -- to my dreams and aspirations. So I've put pen to the paper, or fingers to the keyboard, and I've decided to try and whip off a YA novel in time for the March 1 application deadline. Piece of cake, right?

It's been exhilarating. I'd forgotten what it felt like to get into the flow of a big creative idea. Something that pulls you in and holds your attention for days, weeks, months.

I actually started thinking about my story in early summer. As I would lay in bed at night, I would imagine the characters and the story lines.

My husband is often surprised by my creative process. I don't just sit down and write, though I know there are writers who do that. I really am someone who has to hear the voices in my head, see the scenes play out before I can write them down. There have been times in my writing career where this has been a huge plus. I envision a story, sit down, and put it all on paper in no time. But there are other times, dry spells when I'm exhausted from a lack of sleep or taking care of the kids -- when I hear and see nothing, and so there is nothing to write. Sometimes this lasts for months.

This January the ideas have been flowing in my brain. The voices, the sites, sounds and smells are coming so quickly that it is hard for me to think about anything else. Maybe this is the artist's burden, I'm not sure. But I don't want to stop. I don't want to sleep or eat or even go outside. I want to be able to sit at my computer and pour the words onto the page.

My "normal" life calls me, too. School drop offs and pick ups, doctor's appointments, play dates and activities stop my momentum. I can't forget the gym because without my exercise, I simply wouldn't sleep at all. Sitting in front of a computer screen overstimulates my churning brain.

I wake up each day wishing that I could just opt out. I would like someone else to come to my home and take over my parenting responsibilities. Please tidy up and make the girls lunches because I have to write now. Please take them to school, bundle them up, climb over snowbanks and wake them from naps (while they sob) so we can make it places on time.

I am moving through life in a daze: Exhausted from late nights thinking about the story and writing; exhausted by day from running around with the girls all the while being sleep deprived. Distracted by ideas that are pushing my story forward; distracted by the deadline and my deep desire to be back at my laptop.

Yet, in some ways, I feel like I'm finally finding my way back. It feels so good to be an artistic being, to be doing more than picking up toys and putting away piles of laundry. Despite the chaos of my colliding selves, I feel like I'm just getting back in touch with an old friend.

Now, let's just hope the novel doesn't suck.

Emelia has been sad for two days now. Sunday morning we left my family's home in Montreal and made the trek back to Boston. For a week Emelia and Helaina played with their cousins from morning to night. Outings to an ecomuseum and bowling, watching Hairspray and dancing along, imagining they were fairies, Dora and Diego -- the fun never ended for the girls. When it was time to part ways and head to our respective homes in Toronto and Boston, the cousins resisted. They dragged out their goodbyes and even tried to hide behind a bed and a couch in an effort to stay longer.

At bedtime tonight, Emelia cried. Helaina shared her sense of loss, too.

"I want to go back to Grampa and Grampa's house," she said. (That's how she says Grandma and Grandpa). "I miss my Teta and Gido (my husband's parents) and my cousins. Can we go back tomorrow?"

While our girls are clearly happy to be home, they are grieving a little too. As much as we tell them they will see their cousins soon, they understand that it will be a long time, months.

I started out my holiday vacation feeling like scrooge, and I am leaving it a softie.

Of course, I was no angel this holiday vacation. I had my annual Christmas morning temper tantrum because I just can't resolve my girls' excitement with my own feelings of displacement. I became frustrated with my own families' imperfections. It's amazing that no matter how much older I get when I return home, I become an adolescent and regress to my old ways.

I was less than thrilled to begin my Montreal vacation with someone breaking into our car, resulting in one entire day lost to dealing with the clean-up and window replacement. I couldn't bear my father dragging us to a grungy restaurant in the lobby of a two-star hotel simply because they served Kosher hot dogs. I cringed and snapped when my mother decided to read me stories from the Montreal Gazette newspaper at 11:30 one night when all I wanted was a cup of tea and a little quiet before bed. I was annoyed with my sister for being unreachable when she was running late and we had plans.

Of course, none of these incidents were out of character for my family members, really. It's all stuff they've done before and will do over and over again. My losing it over their imperfections was not out of character for me either. Of course, my only imperfection is my inability to be tolerant of other folks' imperfections. Right?

Still, there were wonderful holiday moments: Emelia setting out cookies for Santa with my husband's parents in New York and then running back to get carrots, peas and a bowl of water for the reindeer; My mother-in-law taking Emelia to see Hairspray on Broadway and then waiting patiently with her by the stage door while she insisted on waiting to meet Tracy; my sister and I getting an afternoon to shop for ourselves just like old times; visits with dear friends; a lunch date with my husband at Cafe Sentropol; the four girls sharing everything from books, pillows, clothing and colds.

As we drove home with Emelia crying in the back seat, I felt my throat grow tight and my eyes well. Unlike my husband, whose mother raised her children to spread their wings and fly. I was raised in a community where kids stay close to home and grandparents, grand-kids and cousins see each other frequently. Stifled by my conservative and constricting upbringing, I couldn't wait to escape. Strangely, now that I've escaped I would move closer to my own sister and cousins in Toronto in a heartbeat if the opportunity presented itself.

So, I begin my new year happy and sad. Sad to say goodbye, but glad to be back in my own home.

... wishing everyone a happy new year filled with lots of joy and love, but also quiet time to curl up with a great cup of tea.

It's that time of year. Christmas decorations and trees are going up, and friends and family members are chattering and obsessing about holiday gifts and cards. As a Jew married into a Protestant family, I have mixed feelings about this time of year. On the one hand, I love spending time with my husband's family, but on the other, it is hard for me to watch as my kids set out cookies for Santa or decorate "their own" little tree. My husband assures me I'm doing a great job creating a Jewish sense of identity for my girls, and Christmas was part of our pre-nup. I may just need to grin and bear it. Still, this year, I'm finding the holidays particularly unsettling.

When I first joined my husband's family, I'll admit, I was thrilled by the idea of celebrating Christmas. I'd always loved the aesthetics of the holiday -- the lights, the ornaments, and the candles. And there's nothing quite like the smell of the pine trees. I'll admit, too, that I was excited at the prospect of finding gifts under a tree with my name on them. Hanukkah gifts in my home were small in comparison. One particularly exciting Hanukkah involved getting a Cabbage Patch doll, with various outfits on the following nights. That was about as good as it got.

Christmas is more decadent. My husband's family is exceedingly generous, and there are always numerous boxes bearing each of our names. Of course, we feel the need to reciprocate with ample gifts. As our Christmases became more decadent, Hannukahs did, too. After all, I can't have my kids thinking one trumps the other, right?

The world is changing though, and suddenly the holidays are feeling more strained, more hectic, and -- frankly -- excessive.

I realized last week that I didn't have one single photo where both of my girls look happy and er ... normal. If one is smiling, the other is picking her nose. In a panic, I set up an appointment at a local photo studio. The only available time is this coming Saturday, just 10 days before the holiday! And, what if one of the girls gets sick before the shoot? (Very likely this time of year.) How on earth will I get cards done on time? But then another thought crossed my mind. Is it really necessary to have all those cards printed, mail all those envelopes, and pay for all those stamps? Folks are just going to throw them away a few weeks later, right? Maybe some of them will get recycled, but surely many will end up in land fill.

"Why don't we just make a donation to charity, and send an email to our friends with a photo?" I asked my husband. "We can say that in lieu of cards, we made a donation."

He just shook his head. "People will think you're weird."

"What if we do secret Santas?" I suggested to my mother-in-law last year. "That way we don't have to buy a ton of gifts for a ton of people. Just one nice gift for each person. It's the thought that counts, right?"

She shook her head. "That's just not the fun of Christmas," she said. "I do love opening all those presents. And besides, I don't buy myself anything all year 'round."

I get the passion for boxes and the bows. Sure, there's nothing like tearing into gifts especially for you. The thing is, my family doesn't need anything. And I mean ANYTHING. My girls will point out fun toys in a magazine and tell you they want and need them. "PLEEEEEESE." But when we need something, really need it, we buy just it.

While my husband and I could use a few upgrades here and there, the odds of our families getting us the right item, in the right size, or the right style is slim. We generally end up making trips back to malls to exchange, return, and re-buy. It's all a big waste of time, effort and energy, not to mention the guilt of needing to request receipts, or, worse, hide the fact that we have returned a gift.

Look, I don't want to sound all Scroogish or even ungrateful. I know there's a lot of time and thought that goes into gift buying, but after 10 years of being married to my husband, his mom still can't remember that I am not a petite.

A friend on Facebook recently joined a group called "Finding Christ in Christmas." For obvious reasons, I won't be joining them, but I think she has the right idea. I can't shake the feeling that in this new world of a floundering economy and environment, maybe we need to rethink the holidays and what they really mean. Do we all really need more stuff? I'm tired of shopping, spending, mailing, accumulating, and trashing.

Forgive me for being weird, but I don't think I'm going to be sending holiday cards this year. Instead, our family had a chat and my kids decided that we will be making a donation to a hospital. ("Let's help a place that helps sick people get better," said Emelia.)

I'm looking forward to the special holiday traditions that make these gatherings so special -- my husband's family's yummy Christmas cookies, my folks' fabulous potato latkes, and, of course, spending time with grandparents, cousins, and people we love. Now if Facebook just had a group called Finding the Maccabees in Hannukah, it would be a perfect holiday.