The East Village Mamele


Waters of Contention

By Marjorie Ingall

Not long ago, I would have told you that the odds of my ever visiting a mikveh were approximately the same as those of George Bush tongue-kissing Dick Cheney. The mikveh always was an aspect of traditional Judaism I was uncomfortable with. I understand that my perspective isn’t shared by all women, and to those women who disagree with me, I say,Read More


School Daze: Josie Leaves the Nest

By Marjorie Ingall

It has been a tumultuous couple of months in the Ingall-Steuer household. Zayde died. Josie’s beloved baby sitter was badly injured in an accident, breaking her femur and pelvis. Our new baby’s birth is so imminent, the milk in our fridge will expire after my due date. My husband is still trying to start a new business. (Translation: we’reRead More


Uneasy Reading: Books About Parenting Fall Flat

By Marjorie Ingall

Newly expecting friends often ask me what pregnancy book they should buy. My answer always has been “none.” Because they are all vile. I suggest my friends sign up for weekly e-mails from babycenter.com instead, and search that superb site for answers to any questions that may come up.Read More


Living a ‘Hineini’ Life

By Marjorie Ingall

My father was justly famous — or infamous — for his rendition of the Akedah, the binding of Isaac. Every year at Rosh Hashanah, he’d chant the Torah portion with all the terrifying drama of a camp counselor telling a ghost story.Read More


#2!

By Marjorie Ingall

So Josie’s getting a sister in October.We’re thrilled, if still a bit discombobulated. Suffice it to say that, compared to the laborious overland journey required to make Josie (you remember we called it the Bataan Sex March), this pregnancy happened, um, instantly. Back in January, on the way back from the corner bodega, a thoughtRead More


The Stressful, Dreary Life With a Very Small Stranger

By Marjorie Ingall

Why is it so dang hard for women to tell the truth about new motherhood? Sure, there’s nothing like a fragrant-headed, milk-drunk baby draped over your shoulder like lichen. But when newborns are not happily gorked to the gills, they have two modes: screaming and boring. They are far less interactive than Super Nintendo.Read More


Rock On, Moms

By Marjorie Ingall

Josie has a keyboard she totes around the house. Periodically she puts it down, bangs on it like Mozart on a bender, scowls a bit and announces, “I’m working, like mama!” (To be truly like Mama, she’d have to curse a lot more as she typed. But close enough.)I know how fortunate I am to make a living doing something I love.Read More


Say It Loud: She’s Fat and She’s Proud

By Marjorie Ingall

Two years ago, I did a column on what it was like to have a porkola meatball baby. Family members hissed that I nursed her too often; strangers squeezed her thighs and raised their eyebrows; one reader sent an impassioned letter pleading with me to stick a pacifier in the kid’s mouth, because if I kept stuffing her like a capon she’d getRead More


Mameles Marching For Choice

By Marjorie Ingall

The March for Women’s Lives, likely to be the largest pro-choice march ever, will take place April 25 in Washington, D.C. I considered taking Josie, but hauling a 2-year-old by bus to the National Mall (a mall that inexplicably does not contain a Disney store) seems foolhardy.Read More


Passing Over the Nuts of Death

By Marjorie Ingall

Last year I wrote about how Passover turned me into a grown-up. My parents moved into an itty-bitty apartment, the tradition of their dueling Seders ended (let’s call it a draw), and Jonathan and I took on the hosting mantle. Well, half the mantle. Auntie Nancy bravely hosts the entire extended clan on Day 2, and her Invasion-of-Normandy-esque…Read More





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