My alter ego’s name is Phyllis. Not as provocative as Sasha Fierce or as precocious as Beyoncé’s new sidekick, Yoncé. Phyllis is my beehive hairdo-wearing, 1950s cigarette-smoking old dame alter ego from when I was a humble New York City waitress. Phyllis began her take over the day I found out I was pregnant with my first child. Early in the morning (which is noon for most waitresses in New York) I saw the two lines of crystal blue appear on the pregnancy strip and I smiled. I had wanted children forever. Now I was going to have one. I’ve worked in the hospitality industry in New York City ..read more

I grew up 1.6 miles away from my Grandma Rosie in the Midwood section of Brooklyn. We lived in Midwood, and Grandma Rosie lived in Bensonhurst. I haven’t set foot in her old apartment since I was 9 years old, and yet here tonight, sitting at my kitchen table – thinking about what to cook for this week’s Shabbat dinner – I can still smell my Grandmother’s apartment building. I can see her at her own kitchen table reading the stocks and eating ginger snaps, as if she’s right in front of me. As the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, came and went this year I thought a lot about Grandma. Perhaps th ..read more

I find myself awake at 3 a.m. in the throws of an anxiety attack. It’s no secret that I’ve been a bit of a basket case lately. I’ve got two small children at home, two jobs and I’ve been trying to implement two faiths with my growing family. Oh, and I’m pregnant with my third child: a boy. I’m not sure what woke me and sent me into such a blaze, but as soon as I wake up my heart feels like it might fly out of my chest. I’m grasping the walls, opening windows, trying to breathe deep. As soon as the attack passes I run to the computer to Google “Anxiety During Pregnancy.” Apparently it’s a com ..read more

My apartment has become a secret cave of imagination. Sometimes it is the park where Peppa Pig plays with her friends and family. Other days it is a dance studio where my two little girls balance on the coffee table until they pirouette off and onto the wooden floor, which has ultimately transformed into a PJ Masks episode. But, on Friday nights we have turned the apartment into a spiritual sanctuary where all religions, cultures and backgrounds are welcome. In order to improve the state of the world, maybe starting at home is the first step. I am an American Jew. The love of my life, and fat ..read more