My husband, Matthew, and I are seltzer fiends. We were going through about 15 liter bottles of Poland Spring seltzer each week. This alarming consumption has made me feel guilty for a couple of reasons. First off, my apartment is on the fourth floor of typical New York City walk-up, so I'd always feel like a total crumb making the Fresh Direct delivery guy lug all that water up all those stairs. Secondly, such a large pile of plastic bottles makes for an embarrassment of waste. But my options seemed limited: Stop liking seltzer? Sell my apartment and move to an elevator building? For Christmas, Matthew surprised me with the third (and winning) option: a seltzer maker! He schlepped all the way out to Borough Park, Brooklyn, and brought home the Soda Club Home Soda Maker. It just takes a few tries before you're cranking out the seltzer like a pro. Now we have an endless supply of bubbly water. I'm a total convert and a proselytizer. I even got my brother-in-law into it (you can read his testimonial on his blog).

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Danielle Gingrich | Liberty Township, Ohio

My four-year-old, Leah, has very strong opinions about what she's going to wear and when she's going to wear it. It got to the point where, in order to preserve our loving relationship and my own sanity, some rules had be laid down. I decided to put an end to the daily what-to-wear battles by making Leah choose between two outfits the night before. It took some reinforcing, of course, and it helps that she's 4 and not 2 (read: more able to reason and stick to an agreement), but, for the most part, it's been a big success. She still feels like she's got the power to select her outfits, but without wasting time (and my goodwill) in the process.

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When we were growing up, my mom taught us a special phrase. If we had something weighing on our little minds, we would simply have to say, "I need some private time." Then, she would take the worried child into her bedroom to sit on her bed with her and talk about whatever was the troubling matter at hand. We could tell her anything, even if it made us feel embarrassed, sad or scared. She would listen very seriously, rub our backs and make us feel better. I remember it quite fondly. And even though I'm almost 30, if I were to need some "private time," I'm sure she would still honor the request.

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I don't have kids and, therefore, am able to spend too many Saturdays watching a backlog of horrible (yet highly entertaining) reality television that my TiVo has saved for me. I realize that my hours clocked in front of the tube aren't really worth boasting about. But, it does allow me to pick apart the trashy-yet-enjoyable shows from the rot-your-brain ones. If you're looking for something to watch during one for those fleeting moments to yourself, I'm here to break it down.

To See Real Competition
Top Chef
(Bravo, Wednesdays at 10 p.m. EST)
You'll be annoyed by host Padma Lakshmi's shiny hair and clothes and dull personality, but there's something extremely satisfying about watching super food talents dice vegetables while you critique dishes from your couch that you can't taste and could never even attempt to make yourself. This season -- set in Chicago -- is just seven episodes in, and there's a marathon practically once a week, so it's not too late to get hooked. So far there have been lots of delicious meltdowns--thanks to all of the "team" challenges. Keep an eye on Dale, Antonia, and Richard.

To Feel Better About Your Own Life
The Real Housewives of New York City
(Bravo,Season 1 marathon starts Saturday May 3 at 12 p.m. EST)
Ok, I was going to try to keep myself from being sucked into this sequel to the Real Housewives of Orange County because I'm pretty sure it took my IQ down a notch or two. But this season was actually...well...kind of good. There's ex-model LuAnn who regularly leaves the nanny to mother her kids while she gets drunk in the Village (because it's her right, you see), super insecure Alex with a potentially gay husband who hopes her money will get her friends, brassy Jill who has no problem sending her pubescent daughter to "detox" on Martha's Vinyard to lose weight, dippy Ramona who can't do anything right, and chef Bethanny who has a job and isn't married but is for some reason still on the show. They all seem to hate each other but air kisses abound. It's fantastic. And I just learned that Real Housewives of New Jersey is next. Hmmm...

Just the thought of dieting sends me into anaphylactic shock (OK, that may be a slight exaggeration, but you get my point). So you can imagine my surprise when I not only attempted a detox but ended up loving it and wanting more. My detox of choice is Blueprint Cleanse, which offers different types of programs depending on how serious you are and how long you want to cleanse (read: not eat). At each of the three levels, you drink six prepared juices per day. Most of the juices are very green (spinach, kale, parsley, etc.) The evening "juice" is really a cashew nut milk that tastes divine.

My first cleanse was a bit of a shock to my system. I did Level 2 for five days and by day three, I was so cold and hungry that I drank the cashew milk for breakfast. I felt so amazing by the end of it, though, that I made plans to try one of the other programs two months later.

My second time around, I chose Level 3 for three days. Cleansing at higher level for less time seemed much more manageable to me. At Level 3, the drinks containing fruit with a high glycemic index (pineapple, apple) are replaced with green drinks, so I didn't have the sugar cravings and hunger pangs that characterized my first go.

I've learned that detox is a multi-layered process. Sure, some of it is simply not eating, but an even bigger part of it is about not polluting your body with flours, sugars and (for me) Diet Coke. Both during and after the exercise, I felt like I could fly.

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My mom's meals always had a bay leaf or two. Growing up, I just accepted this as a given without much thought as to why. It wasn't until I started cooking on my own as an adult that I really understood the bay leaf's incredible culinary value. Now, it's a must in almost every dish I make, from short ribs braised in beer to my mom's chicken adobo.

I find that bay leaves add a slightly bitter yet fragrant complexity to dishes that are already packed with flavor. And, wherever there's a hint of sweet in a savory dish, I often use bay leaves as a counterpoint. (When I make short ribs braised in beer, for example, the bay leaf complements the sweet carmelized onions). Try out my mom's Filipino-style chicken adobo...

Shayna Goldner / Toronto, CA

When I was creating a baby registry, I had difficulty picking out the best item in each category of gear (car seat, stroller, highchair, carrier...). Because I was bedridden for the whole nine months, I did most of my research on the web. While I found a ton of cold, hard product info, I didn't have the advantage of actually going to stores to examine the stuff and getting insight from experienced sales people with hands-on knowledge.

I felt a bit lost until I stumbled upon this website PishPoshBaby.com. The online company has a baby-gear expert to answer any question on any item-just send your query, and she'll respond within an hour. The personalized service was Incredible. Together with the expert, I was able to figure out which products were most suitable for me. Also, unlike many sites, they even shipped to Canada, which was a godsend.

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Even though I had made big strides in helping my two-year-old, Alex, adjust to his newborn brother, Ben (see here and here), I still felt like I had a long way to go. For several weeks after we'd brought Ben home, I was constantly telling Alex to "be nice," "be gentle," and "be careful" around the baby. I felt like this shaming cross between a broken record and a watchdog, and it only made Alex feel angrier and more jealous of Ben.

I decided to shift gears in my approach. Instead of instructing just Alex on how to act around the baby, I started to "direct" the baby on how to behave around Alex. I'd say things like "Ben, please don't cry so loudly. Alex and I are trying to read a story." Or sometimes, I'd go with "Ben, you be nice to Alex, too. Please be nice to each other." These days I say things like, "Ben, I am going to put you down for your nap now so I can play with Alex for a whole hour and you won't interrupt us!" It's worked beautifully for everyone: Alex feels special; Ben gets attention (even though he has no idea what I'm saying); and I feel better all around-less nervous about the baby getting hurt, less guilty about Alex's rattled state, and more present as a parent juggling these two little boys:

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The countdown begins...12 days until my high school 10th reunion! Preparing for the momentous event has been a two-part process, I've found: self-reflection (always a blast) and retail therapy (to soften the pangs of part one).

The self-reflection phase was fairly predictable: I'm still single (boo-hoo) and "challenged" when it comes to balancing my checkbook; it's quite possible that I was smarter in high school than I am now; "friendly" creases have since nestled around my eyes; and I have a dead tooth that I didn't have then. But hey, at least I have my health! (Not counting the tooth, of course.)

The subsequent shopping spree was slightly less typical. I wasn't in the market for a full-on makeover. What I craved was a few pick-me-up pieces to punctuate the stuff I already have--inspiring accessories to lift me out of my dressing rut and transport me to a place where I could pretend to be that girl. You know who I mean: the one who was born chic (as others are born brunette), the one who makes plain jeans and tees look glamorous just by putting them on.

It took me a month (and a good part of a paycheck) to find the contents of my 10th Reunion Hope Chest, but I did succeed! Click below to see my loot.

My best girlfriend just moved back to New York City, and we celebrated with our favorite college pastime:  talking into the wee hours over cocktails of our own creation (which we surely would have patented back then had we recalled the recipes come morning). Luckily, I do remember the clever concoction we shook up for our recent reunion. With little more than condiments in my bachelorette fridge, we opted for vodka and bottled organic lemon juice over ice. The drink was so simple, refreshing, and deliciously not-too-sweet that we each had three. Oy.

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