The East Village Mamele


Yidishe Hotties, Unite!

By Marjorie Ingall

Sometimes a T-shirt is just a T-shirt. Sometimes it isn’t.Amy Sohn, who writes the Naked City column for New York magazine, e-mailed me about a new Web site. Since Amy is an arbiter of all that is hot, heavy and Hebraic, I checked it out.The site is called “Jew.Lo” (www.jewlo.com). As you probably know, “J.Lo” is the nickname…Read More


Mother’s Day: A Contrarian View

By Marjorie Ingall

You’ve heard people express these sentiments before, so I’ll just spit it out: Like many constitutionally cranky people, I find Mother’s Day an irritating fake-o holiday suffused with a synthetic saccharin glow.Express your appreciation of me every damn day of the year, and if you send me a card with glitter on it…Read More


Nursing Babies, Anxiety Too

By Marjorie Ingall

The subject of breast-feeding turns people into sputtering loons. At one end of the spectrum, there are the militant nursing activists (unfortunately known in mom circles as “breast-feeding Nazis”), who insist that women who choose not to nurse are selfish, lazy, weak and ignorant. They pooh-pooh stories about plugged ducts, pain and bleeding.Read More


Television: The Golden Calf of Home

By Marjorie Ingall

Elmo can kiss my tukhes. So can Baby Bear (the TV character with the most grating speech impediment since Cindy Brady), Telly (such a chaleria, he makes me anxious), Zoe (the semi-new female puppet who is so insipid, she’s furry tokenism in action) and Count von Count (whose voice, after the death of his original master, Jim Henson, is…Read More


Mom’s Seder: The Next Generation

By Marjorie Ingall

My parents sold their house, my childhood home. (I have issues about this, but I’ll deal with them in therapy rather than in this column.) Their new apartment is large enough to hold a brisket and a large matzo ball, but not simultaneously. So this year, Jonathan and I are hosting Passover for the first time.It’s a big deal. It’s a bigRead More


Hanging With the Gals

By Marjorie Ingall

Manhattan is the Planet of Fabulous Single Girls. All those “Sex and the City” stereotypes? True! The streets are full of kitten-heeled, ginger-saketini-drinking, cell-phone- clutching, expert-hair-color-sporting, yoga-mat-carrying chicks who get to spend hours reading the Sunday Times unmolested by toddlers chanting “Elmo! Elmo! Elmo!Read More


Having a Gay Old Time At Uncle’s Brit Ahava

By Marjorie Ingall

Josie’s childhood is already pretty different from mine. I took my first airplane flight when I was a year old (to see Grandma in Florida); she took hers at 5 weeks (to see Auntie Ellen wed in Milwaukee). I wasn’t present at my own baby-naming; my dad ran into shul on a Monday morning and had an aliya. Josie, meanwhile, had her own carefullyRead More


Rock on, Baby: No Cloying Music for This Hip Kiddie

By Marjorie Ingall

Go to the children’s music section in Tower Records and let the hurling begin. (I realize I promised no mentions of vomit in this week’s column, but my editor is on vacation. Vomit, vomit, vomit. Don’t tell her.) Generally, music intended for children is perky, chipmunk-y, condescending, cloying and unlistenable for anyone old enough…Read More


Shower Me With Gyminis

By Marjorie Ingall

Baby showers are goyish. I’m sorry, they just are, like mayonnaise, St. Barts and baton-twirling. I say this despite the fact that legions of Jews (me included) are having them.In the past, showers were a no-no because they tempted the ayin hara, the evil eye. Not only were you not supposed to bring any baby stuff into your house before the baby…Read More


Those Magic Moments: Saying Shehecheyanu

By Marjorie Ingall

I always worry, when I’m writing this column, that people are rolling their eyes at my narcissism. Do I act as if I’m the first person ever to have a child? Am I annoyingly convinced that everything Josie does is brilliant and adorable? Am I the literary equivalent of your neighbor who constantly forces you to look at his vacation photos?Read More





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