Triangle Mamas

The Little Things

by Cyndi

When my first-born was about 6 weeks old, my BFF (who already had two children of her own) came up from Atlanta for a visit. In addition to offering me her shoulder to cry on (who knew motherhood was so exhausting?!) and her wonderful, wise company, she also gave me a most important gift -- she taught me the importance of knowing the best to places to shop when you have a nursing baby.

While she was in town, we went to the mall -- I'm not much of a mall-shopper, but I was desperate to learn how to leave my house with the new baby without having a total meltdown (and I mean, me melting down, not the baby). Together, we figured out which department stores had bathrooms with a lounge area and which shops didn't give the stink-eye when we sat in the changing rooms for a baby snack. Those stores quickly became the only places I went when I needed to shop in those early, scary, newborn months.

As Junius got older and we added Pippi to the mix, my needs have changed over time -- these days I don't worry about a place to nurse, but I am always on the lookout for shops with family-friendly bathrooms. With one child in diapers and one potty-trained, we need a little of everything on a good potty break.

Today, while having a much-needed lunch with a friend, I discovered an impressive little family touch in the ladies' room at Bruegger's Bagels in Ridge Road Shopping Center -- the "invisible" potty seat. It's one of those three part toilet seats with a regular seat, a kid-sized seat and a lid all on one hinge (see photo). It's a small change, but a big deal for a new potty-trainee whose tushie would fall through the regular-size seat. Even thought I was there sans-kiddos, I was still thrilled to see the attention to detail.

In a time when families can feel more than unwelcome in some stores (see the Michigan Target store that called the police about a breast-feeding mom earlier this month -- although to be fair, the family bathroom at the North Hills Target is always clean and easy for potty breaks), it's nice to see a business taking steps to make families comfortable.

Share your tips here -- what are your favorite family-friendly places in the Triangle?

When Cyndi isn't scoping out public restrooms, she can be found chasing her two children (ages 4.5 and almost 2) or writing at Junius & Pippi Take the Cake.

Image from Amazon.com.

Why I Almost Lost It Over a Pink Lovey

by Melissa

Saturday was trouble in loveyland. 

Not even a week after writing this post about my son’s slowly-withering companion - a pink bear named Burt - we almost lost him forever in the cramped, crowded aisles somewhere in Toys R Us. 

The plan for the day was for Daddy Roo, Big Roo and I to drive to the nearest Toys R Us to finish our toy shopping. I live in not-the-middle-of-nowhere-suburbia but for some reason the closest store was 12 miles across town. Our main mission? Get Big Roo this awesome (and majorly on sale) V-Tech Digital Camera and pick up some miscellaneous things to finish off Santa’s duty for the Roo house. 

After Big Roo’s nap, we packed up and headed out on a dreary, drizzly and cold afternoon to Toys R Us. When we arrived, Big Roo as usual wanted to take Burt inside (along with the red AND blue Lightning McQueen). So we stuffed the cars in his pockets and I tossed Burt in the shopping cart.

While we were in line to check out, Big Roo started peering into the cart a wee bit too much so Daddy Roo decided to walk him around the store while I paid. As I waited in line, I heard Daddy Roo say, “We’re going to go search for a bathroom. He has to pee pee.” 

I think it was here that it all went downhill. 

As I was annoyingly rattling off my last three phone numbers hoping desperately that one of them was THE number I used for my Toys R Us Rewards Card (man I hate being THAT person but there I was), Daddy Roo huffed past me and muttered, “We didn’t make it.” He took Big Roo over near the exit to wait. As Big Roo turned around I saw the tell-tell sign of a kid who “didn’t make it”-- a big dark spot right in the crotch! I was so flustered trying to pay and feeling hurried to get the kid home for dry pants that the cashier had to remind me to take the bag of toys! 

We rushed out into the cold drizzle, strapped Big Roo in the carseat and shuffled into the car to warm up and get home. It was starting to get dark, we were getting hungry and - oh yeah - Big Roo is sitting in wet pants. We hop on the highway and sit painfully through stops, starts and red brake lights a plenty. About 15 minutes later, Big Roo proclaims “I want Burt.” 

My heart sank. 

My stomach dropped. 

Somehow I KNEW Burt wasn’t in the car, even before I turned around. I twisted my preggo body around to scan the back seat. Then I checked the abyss between the carseat and the door. I looked everywhere but Burt was gone. He was lost somewhere among all the shiny, new toys at Toys R Us. Ah, crap. 

Daddy Roo zips into the next exit lane. Time to turn around and see if Burt was a goner or not. The whole drive there my senses were acutely aware of our surroundings and it threw my annoyance level into overdrive. The rain hitting the windshield, the traffic, the fact that we weren't quite able to go the speed limit-- it was all slowing us down. My mind was racing, simultaneously trying to remember when the last time that we actually saw Burt was as well as picturing how Big Roo would go to sleep tonight if Burt wasn't in his bed. Or the next day when Burt wasn't there for him to squeeze when he woke up. Big Roo didn't quite understand the severity of what was happening in loveyland, but me, well, I was freaking out. Panicking. 

You can't just buy another pink bear, roll him in the dirt, wash him a zillion times and call it Burt. No, that would be an impostor. Burt was a one-and-only. And he was currently somewhere in or near a store full of hurried December shoppers. 

I tried to call Toys R Us but kept getting a busy signal. And the worst... Big Roo, a rare complainer, starts whining that he's gotta pee pee, totally in agony trying to stop himself from going again. Miserable. 

An eternity later, we arrived at the store. We drove slowly past the cart return to make sure he wasn't lying in the wet parking lot. Nope. 

We pulled into a spot then walked up to the store planning our attack: Daddy Roo would retrace our steps through the Lego aisle, PlayDoh and more, while I would ask customer service about Lost and Found. As I was waiting for someone to help me, Big Roo locks his knees together and squeals "I gotta pee pee!" 

I screwed waiting and picked Big Roo up to situate him around my preggo belly. I didn't want anyone to see his pants soaked in the front. Plus, we can get there faster this way. I start walking somewhere, anywhere hoping to spot an employee who can point me to the bathroom that eluded Daddy Roo just 30 minutes earlier. I grabbed the first person I saw, asked for the bathroom and told her we lost a pink bear. She points me to the potty and said she'd go see if someone turned him into Lost and Found. 

As I was hustling to the bathroom, I swear I felt it get warm around my waist. Not sure, but I think poor Big Roo peed again. If he did, he still managed to go again once we were in an actual stall. As we walked out of the bathroom and turned the corner, I saw the most relieving sight in recent mommy memory. The Toys R Us employee stood there, shoulders up straight with her hands behind her back. 

I just knew by the stance. 

She slowly pulled a tattered pink bear known as Burt out from behind her. "Were you looking for this?" She asked Big Roo. 

 He grinned and grabbed Burt for a big ole hug. My eyes watered as I gave her the thank you of all thank yous. I was pretty sure she's returned loveys to their rightful owners before, but in our world, she was our heroine. 

We ventured off to find Daddy Roo who was still on the search, collectively sighed with relief and then headed home for some dry pants. We never found out exactly where Burt was discovered or what adventures he had been on. But it really didn't matter. The separated were again inseparable. 

 Whew. That was close.

Cross-post by Melissa, caregiver of her two-year-old son and Burt. When she’s not playing bodyguard to a pink bear, she can be found blogging about kids and the outdoors at adventuroo.com.

Santa or No?

by Erin

I love Christmas. It’s such a MAGICAL time for me. I love being with my family. I love the spirit of the season. I have fond memories of Santa Clause. I loved the stories, I loved leaving out yummy goodies for the reindeer and I loved the simple magic of Jolly Ol’ St. Nick. I have no recollection of the day I found out he wasn’t real. Not a smidge of a catastrophe or a peek of being devastated lingers in my head.

Imagine my surprise when a few years ago, my husband made some off-hand comment about not doing Santa with our future children. Um…excuse me? I don’t know that I heard you correctly, WHAT?

For the last few years, I call him SCROOGE at least 2-3 times over the holiday season and we make a joke. But now the time is actually upon us to figure this thing out. I know that technically the Bug will have NO idea about Santa this year, and probably won’t next year either for that matter. But it’s the principle. And I feel we need to get to the bottom of it now.

I’ll admit…we haven’t had an in-depth conversation about this yet. I’m sort of avoiding it because I feel deep down that my husband will have a point and I’ll understand that point regardless of the fact that I want to tell him he has no soul and run and hide under the covers. He just doesn’t want to lie to our children – not out and out about something completely fictional. (We’ll work on the white lie with him later.)

So what do we do?

Do we simply talk about Santa in the context of Christmas but never say he’s coming to visit? (Ouch, I just felt a jab in my heart.) Do I tell the Bug that his daddy doesn’t believe in magic and fairy dust and to not listen to him? (Ok, bad idea.) I just don’t want our kid to be the one who ruins it for everyone else. I can just imagine the phone calls I get from parents telling me the Bug told their kid “You silly, Santa Clause is a made-up story by adults who enjoy perpetuating lies to their children for their own pleasure.” ACK! I don’t want that.

I’m not one to say that he’s watching you as I know some families do. It makes sense to me as a way to get your children to behave, but I sort of think it’s creepy. The idea of some old man watching me when I’m sleeping gives me the willies. I just want the Bug to be able to write Christmas lists…to see his excitement on Christmas morning as he looks out to see what Santa brought for him. I guess it would be just as exciting to see what mom and dad brought him, but that just doesn’t seem as fun to me.

And the hubs and I are in complete agreement about taking him to see Santa at the mall. That sounds like PURE HELL to me. It won't happen. I'm not standing in line with a bunch of snotty nosed, H1N1 ridden kids just to sit my child on some random guy's lap. Wow...I didn't realize I felt so strongly until I spit out that sentence. Guess there's a bit of Scrooge in everyone!

But seriously, I know there has to be a happy medium. I just want the Bug to have a little bit of Santa. I know we can’t be the only family who has to deal with this issue.

What do you think? How do we make this work?

Erin also blogs at her Parents Pick 2009 winning blog at Motherhood in the Industry. Follow her on Twitter @Mktg_Mama.

Loveys Gone Pink: The Curious Case of a Boy's Fave Companion

by Melissa

For the longest time we wondered if our son was going to become sweetly yet unreasonably attached to an inanimate object better known in mom-land as a lovey. Would it be his soft yellow blanket lined with silk? What about the plush bunny his aunt bought him at the Grand Canyon? Heck, maybe it’d be something a little less soft like a toy train. 

Turns out a little critter did make his way to my son’s heart. 

Turns out it's more hilarious, more adorable and more telling of his originality than any lovey I could have ever selected for him. 

 Turns out it was a pink bear. 

 And way back when he looked like this.

   

Let’s examine this for a second. Pink and white fur with a lace heart that says to that special someone “My Honey.” I imagine this bear was a $4.99 Valentine’s Day special at Walgreens one year, don’t ya think? 

Everyone we meet is always curious how a rough and tumble boy ended up with such ...well... pink lovey. Here's the short of it: When we lived in Phoenix, our little one went to a home daycare. Around the time he turned one, when we'd arrived at daycare in the morning he'd run up to a shelf of toys and grab this bear. His teacher proclaimed that the pink bear was his favorite and he'd walk around with it all day. So when the time came to move from Arizona to North Carolina last year, she bestowed upon him the bear as a going-away gift. Little did she know just how much that bear meant to him. From then on, the bear has been my son's constant companion. 

About a month after he became the official owner of such an unsuspecting treasure, my son officially dubbed him "Burt." We aren't sure where the name came from, but there you have it. The pink bear was now simply Burt. 

Just how attached is my son to Burt? 

He sleeps with Burt tucked under his elbow... he holds Burt over his face when he's feeling shy... he extends Burt to people he meets when he's NOT feeling shy... he gets up really close to Burt’s face and wiggles Burt's head while laughing with a squeal... he lets Burt take the first bite of food when he isn’t sure he’s gonna like it… let’s face it, the kid is insanely attached to this pink bear.  

Every kid in his daycare class knows Burt. So do all the teachers. He doesn’t actually carry Burt around during the day much anymore at home or at daycare. In fact, he’s in my son’s cubby when I arrive to pick him up after work. But Burt is the first thing he wants when I walk in the classroom. Even before I get a hug, Burt has got to be let out of his cubby cage. It's endearing and hilarious at the same time. He is the lovey of all loveys that pink bear. And here’s what he looks like after a year or so of rough-and-tumble love (on a good day).

   

When we go out in public, it’s quite interesting how people react when they see my son clutching a pink bear. We mostly get the people who smile and laugh, not to ridicule, but in a loving sort of way. They think it’s absolutely adorable that our son is fascinated by a pink bear. But we sometimes get snide comments like “my husband would DIE if my son’s favorite toy was a bear.” Really, would he really DIE? Is he that insecure that he’s ashamed his son carries a PINK bear? Wow, can’t wait to hear what happens when your son wants to try out for band instead of play on the football team. 

I mean, seriously, my biggest fear isn’t the made-up conclusions that strangers come to about my parenting skills because I let my son carry around a pink bear. 

My biggest fear is that Burt is deteriorating rapidly. 

He gets washed nearly every week on “hand wash” but I still can’t keep the little guy from the inevitable- clumpy, tattered and discolored fur that looks like shows just how much he's been loved so far. He’s even had a hole sewn up once by Grandma. And his token “my honey” heart is now detached and rests somewhere on my son’s bedroom floor. It’s not like I could have stocked up on Burt look-a-likes, ya know? For better or worse, Burt is simply irreplaceable. 

What is this mama going to do when Burt falls apart in the oh-so-gentle hand wash cycle? Or worse, what if I leave him in the store shopping cart all alone, only to be tossed in the trash by some gum-chomping teenager who has no idea what that bear means to this little child? Yep, those are my worst fears… that Burt will leave my son before my son is ready to leave him. 

And so I wash him in a net sack so he's less likely to fray in the wash. I guard him fiercely when we're out and about. I'm quickly scoop him up when he falls onto wet asphalt in a dirty parking lot. All to give my little guy a little more time with Burt. So maybe, just maybe, Burt will ride out all his glory days as a lovey... until my son moves on.

Cross-post by Melissa, caregiver of her two-year-old son and Burt. When she’s playing bodyguard to a pink bear, she can be found blogging about kids and the outdoors at adventuroo.com.

Didn't you know they sell magic at Target?

It was one of those my baby is so cranky we will both explode if we stay inside kind of days. My son, Oscar has been waking up early from his afternoon naps which results in an earlier bedtime. This of course means we all get up at the crack of dawn and the cycle repeats. So, I thought we would go for a nice long stroll at North Hills. We started at Chick-Fil-A, because 1) Ahem, we live in North Carolina, and 2)They were doing a food drive for free sandwiches. 

I'll trade my cans of Tuna for a chicken sandwich ALL DAY LONG. 

And can I stop right there and talk about how I LOVE that little fake grassy area outside at North Hills? I never understood why they didn't just put real grass there. I mean I guess it is easier to maintain. But it always seemed odd to me that there was astro-turf outside. However, now that I am the mom of a very curious crawler, I thank the Lord for synthetic nature! I can let him crawl and roll around to his heart's content. And crawl he did! It was a beautiful day. 

We walked around the plaza for a bit and headed back down to our parking spot, conveniently located next to Target. OK fine, you're twisting my arm, I'll go inside the store! I grabbed a couple super cheap items for myself off the clearance rack (because nothing in my current wardrobe cost more than $3.74) and headed for the Cheerios. At this point Oscar was starting to get cranky and I realized we were almost an hour past nap time. He had been really good and my plan was working, so we walked toward the checkout. 

Just then, in the home section I heard the loveliest music-box rendition of Jingle Bells and I had to find it. Lo and Behold there was a snow globe with a reindeer inside and the music was playing. I shook it and thought, I bet Oscar would think this is neat. I leaned down and wound it up and shook the globe and there he sat, absolutely entranced. His eyes lit up and he was tracing each little snow flake with his fingers. We looked at a few more, each with their own Christmas Carol and it occurred to me that even though I have known this is his first Christmas, I hadn't really considered what it would be like for HIM. He is the perfect age to really have fun with it and for the first time, I understood why parents get so into the holidays. It's not about the latest greatest toy. It's about the magic! Watching his eyes get wide and excited was just about the best thing in the world. I can't wait to create that magic for him as the holidays draw near. That day, I found magic at Target. And yes, this December Oscar will be unwrapping his very own snow globe.

An original Triangle Mamas post. When Andrea is not getting all mushy in the home goods aisle, she can be found blogging at Lil-Kid-Things or gabbing away on Twitter. 

Halloween 2009, Triangle Mamas Style

In no particular order, here are some of the adorable children of the Triangle Mamas.

This is Abigail in her mama's German dirndl from when she was two.  NIkki says, "I like to think of this as her dramatic reenactment of Gretl's 'So Long, Farewell' exit in The Sound of Music."

Here are Juni and Pip, Cyndi's little ones. Buzz Lightyear here even had "Andy" written on the bottom of his shoe. Very authentic.

What might have been a dragon on the hanger became a dinosaur on Linus. Abby's little man was rawry scary.

From our newest Triangle Mama, Kelly, whose inaugural post will be live Wednesday, we have Mr. Wyatt.

Little Bird was a Little Bear for the day. Marty and her sewing machine pulled off a handmade Halloween again this year, but only with a couple of hours to spare.

Cindy's little dino was so excited, she had the costume on in Target the day they were picking it out.

 

Ilina had a handmade Halloween too. Here is Super Deal and Ninja Bird in all their glory.

Welcome to fall, y'all. Bring on the turkeys and the trees!

Making Beautiful Music Together

When I was four years old, my mother took me to Kindermusik classes -- some of the first in the U.S. My mom then became my first piano teacher, starting me on lessons that would last through three other teachers until I graduated high school. Later, my mom became a Musikgarten teacher, singing and dancing with other moms and babies.

Given that history, and the fact that my kids really love all sorts of music and dancing, I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit that I finally took Junius and Pippi to our first music class last week. But better late than never -- all three of us had a great time singing, playing, dancing and jumping along with Ms. Angela and the nine other mommies and 12 other children. In addition to being great fun in a musical learning environment, it's also one of the few activities I could take the kids to at the same time -- not a lot of kids programs are open to both a 4-year-old and a 19-month-old.

During the class, Ms. Angela encouraged all the mommies to sing regularly to their children. "No matter what you think your voice sounds like," she said, "your children will think it's the most beautiful sound they've ever heard." I liked that advice and decided this was a good time to stop listening to NPR in the car and start singing along with our new Music Together CD.

So on our way to Nanna and PopPop's house last week, I put in the disc -- the kids were smiling and clapping and trying to sing along. And I'm thinking what a great mommy I am that I can take them to this fun class and then sing with them in the car and how happy they must be to hear my beautiful voice.

Then Junius pipes up from the back seat. "Mommy," he says. "When you are singing...?"

And I'm waiting for him to say how much fun it is when I sing and he can sing and Pippi is learning to sing and how much he loves me...

"Mommy, when you are singing," he says, "I can't hear the music. Mommy, please don't sing."

His comment left me speechless, thus having the desired effect.

I'm just hoping he won't complain when I start singing even louder in class this week.

When Cyndi isn't offending her son by trying to sing with Music Together, she and her kids like to rock out with Big Bang Boom, They Might Be Giants and Barenaked Ladies. She can also be found writing at Junius & Pippi Take the Cake.

Confession: I Do Love a Jon Jon

We all have our varying opinions on the jon jon. Before Little Bird was born, I imagined him wearing nothing but jon jons, romping across the playground in his little smocked coveralls. I'm not sure what I was drinking at the time, but his entrance into real life complete with poop, pee, drool, dirt, and general stickiness soon changed my mind on the jon jon.

Now, I reserve the jon jon for church on Sunday morning and other occasions where he needs to be a little more dressed up. We don't wear them to Marbles, and he won't be wearing them to Mother's Morning Out, no matter how many other little boys will.

For some reason though, Bird still has way more jon jons hanging in his closet than I have pride to admit. I blame Kelly for this. Kelly runs Divine Consign in Raleigh. Divine Consign hosts trunk shows of overstocks and consignment sales a few times a year. It's not your average consignment sale. You don't have to dig through to find things that aren't stained or that you could buy just as cheaply if you caught them on clearance. Kelly takes only high end, gently worn children's clothes, saving moms like me who only like to shop in front of a computer screen a lot of time and hassle.

If she hadn't made it easy enough for us, now she has also started a blog. This post on how to shop a consignment sale was incredibly helpful, and I thought worth passing along.The next show is August 31 through September 4 at Stonehenge Shopping Center in Raleigh.

What about you? Do you hit consignment sales for your kids' clothing? What other ones are worth a look? Do you sell at consignment sales? Do you have any additional shopping or selling tips?

Let's help each other continue to dress our children way way better than we dress ourselves. That is until What Not to Wear shows up on my doorstep and rescues me from myself.

An original Triangle Mamas post. This post was not sponsored by Divine Consign in any way. We just happen to like moms in business for themselves, especially when they do it so well. In fact, if you have a mom in business here in the Triangle who you think we should feature, please contact us. We don't do reviews, but we share our positive and negative experiences freely here.

When Marty isn't busy ironing jon jons, she writes about everyday things at Don't Take the Repeats and Deep South Moms. When she has less to say, she hangs out on Twitter.

On the Right Path

I don't want to sleep there, I'm not particularly interested in peeing there, and I certainly don't want to cook there, but I do love the woods. I love the Black Mountains specifically, and I love streams.

I'm not sure why we don't do more hiking. We have the dogs for it. We have the kid for it. We have the love for it. We just don't get around to it.

My husband, Kevin is a doer. There is always a project either in full swing or in planning mode. It is one thing I love about him. He finishes what he starts, and he starts big things. His plans are not lightly made nor are they easy to finish. Right now, he is adding onto the house. Just he and the contractor. When he comes home from work , he works some more. On the weekends, he's building. I'm excited for the new spaces, but I think I am more excited for him to finish so that I have some of his time and attention back.

All this to say, I think this is why we don't hike. We do things together as much as possible, but this is a stage in our life where Kevin is determined to get things in order. I love him for that. I miss him, but I love him.

While we were in the mountains recently, staying in Catawba Falls Preserve, I had him back to myself one day. He wanted to know what I wanted to do, and I chose this hike. We packed a backpack full of snacks, water, and diapers. The dogs got to tag along and tap into their inner hunters. Gibson, our chocolate lab, ran out about 10 feet ahead with his tail pointed straight up. He even helped corral Little Bird when he got too far ahead of us. Our English Setter, Aja, stayed on leash and ignored her bird dogs instincts in favor of reading the mail on the ground.

We missed a turn along the way - rather, I missed a turn, and we ended up about 40 minutes off track. Luckily, we had also packed our Babyhawk, so tired Bird could ride on his daddy's back when he got tired. And after playing nekkid in the creek for awhile?

Bird was really really tired.

It was a great day with my boys, my dogs, and a trail in the mountains.

When she isn't dreaming of her own mountain getaway, Marty blogs at Don't Take the Repeats. When she has less to say, she resorts to quipping on Twitter.

You mean I'm supposed to chew food?

I don't know how many times I've spent a morning dreaming of a day when Starbucks will add a train table if not an entire play area to their coffee shops. I mean, it could just be open for the mid-morning and late afternoon hours when caffeine-addicted moms need a place to get a hit while still entertaining and socializing their kids. Wouldn't it be great?

I know, I know, McDonald's now has McCafe's and Barnes & Noble even has Starbucks and train tables, but I hate McDonald's and Barnes & Nobles has shelves and shelves of books just taunting my toddler to destroy. I'm talking a gated play area where a coffee bar is within sight distance. Wouldn't it be loverly?

What I don't understand is why more places don't follow the lead of one of my favorite local restaurants, Blue Corn Cafe. This place has a separate rooms for patrons with kids and patrons without. It's so nice to not have to worry about your toddler throwing a tantrum because he wants his own bowl of guacamole to dip in because there's another one loudly demanding his quesadilla at the next table.

As if separate but equal dining spaces weren't enough, the with-kids dining room has a play area stocked with toys, a chalkboard covered wall, a play mat, and a full library of VHS kids tapes. While you are getting sat down and offered a menu, your preschooler is digging out a fire truck from the toy basket. I can't even remember another restaurant where I've been able to actually read the menu rather than just randomly selecting an entree.

Now I understand the importance of teaching your child to sit politely at the table, but there are just some nights I would like to sit and sip a really yummy Mojito without slurping it down between reiterations of "Sit down. Be patient." We work on manners at home and at other restaurants, but at Blue Corn, I prefer to sit back, munch on tasty fried plantain chips, and watch as my son lies on someone else's floor rolling cars back and forth.

If you're like me and could sometimes use the "dining out" option that really is a bit of a break, or if you just like really good Latin-American food, then Blue Corn Cafe on Durham's Ninth Street is the place for you.

Who knows? We might just see you there.

Crossposted at Abby's personal blog My Sweet Babboo where she doesn't just write about food. Although come to think of it, she does write about food a lot there too.