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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My family fell into a dinner rut, and it wasn't pretty. Family meals became a real drag with my three boys grumbling and moaning at yet another menu of baked salmon or spaghetti with meatballs. Yet, whenever I suggested a new dish, they'd respond with a chorus of "Ick! Yuck! No Way!" What gives?!

I breathed a sigh relief (and almost cried) when I read Jenny Rosenstrach's article, "30 Meals in 30 Days." On a whim, I showed the boys the pictures of her dinners, and the weirdest thing happened: They LOVED looking at the photos and wanted to discuss each dish in detail. After much deliberation and debate, they agreed on six of the featured dishes to try (it's amazing when they agree on anything - much less six meals!)  Now, we're integrating two new dinners each week, and the boys have to find something new to complain about.

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Kimberly Connolly / Chicago, IL

My sanity saver? iPod playlists. Our nine-month-old, Charlie (on the left), seems to respond to music, so we used to play CDs to calm him down or put him to sleep. We'd always misplace them, though, so they were never on hand when needed. One quiet evening after I put him down, I downloaded all of his discs onto iTunes and created playlists for all his different moments and moods throughout the day (Bed Time, Bath Time, Play Time, Cranky... ). I also put a docking station in his room so he can listen to lullabies while drifting off to sleep. Now there's no more scouring the back seat of the car for that Dan Zanes CD-I just push a button and everyone's happy!

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When we brought our new baby, Ben, home from the hospital, our two-year-old, Alex, was utterly distraught (despite their smooth introduction detailed in "Adjusting to the New Baby / Part 1"). Feeling abandoned, he acted out his jealousy in ways both naughty and heart-wrenchingly sad. When I was able to pull myself together a few weeks later (though I wish it had been sooner), I left the baby with our nanny and took Alex out alone. We only had about an hour before I had to get back for more nursing, but it didn't matter. The two of us walked to a nearby pet store to survey the fish, lizards, and turtles, then shared a croissant on the way home. I hadn't seen Alex so happy in months. The twinkle in his eyes (that had disappeared in recent weeks) was back. And I was happy, too, for a few reasons. First, it was wonderful to be out with a toddler who could walk and talk, versus a mysterious all-I-do-is-eat-sleep-cry-and-poop newborn in a stroller. I also realized how much I had missed him--that it's a two way street, and I need to be with him as much as he needs to be with me. Finally, I saw how resilient children are--just an hour of alone time made up for weeks of feeling disconnected. I think we both felt totally energized after our outing. I didn't even care that I hadn't slept at all the night before!

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I check out my friend Hollister's blog every day because she has amazing taste, and her finger's always on the pulse (but never in an obvious way). Hollister and her sister, Porter, seem to have endless time and energy, and I simply love spending time in their world. They're like two fabulous-looking crazy aunts, both old-soul romantic and completely current, who frolic around in clothes that are at once nostalgic and glamorous. I never know quite what to expect when I enter Holly's orbit - I could very well be headed on safari, wearing (what else, but) YSL, or bidding maniacally on some eBay treasure she's discovered or is trying to sell. Come join in the fun!

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I will most likely never make a baby book for either of my kids. I wish I were that kind of mom, but I'm not, and I've decided not to beat myself up about it. That said, I was thrilled to read Dan Ferraro's piece (in the second issue of Cookie) on setting up Gmail accounts for his babies to record their formative years. I took his advice and, for the past three years, have been sending emails to my boys (Henry, 4, and Willem, 2) in hopes that they'll someday read them and keep them as artifacts of their childhoods. My messages to them range from multi-paragraph love letters on their birthdays to one-liners that document a particularly funny or poignant phrase that comes out of their mouths-like the time a friend of ours was staying with us and woke up to Henry (an inch from his face) exclaiming, "Can you believe it's morning already?" Sometimes I'll send them pictures from the day's events.  I've also asked grandparents and loved ones to email them after visits. It's the new, modernized baby scrapbook, I think, that will give them an even clearer mental snapshot of who they were at the age of 4 when they review this stuff at age 20, 30, 40...

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I was just about to give birth to my second son, and I wasn't sure how to handle the new baby and my two-year-old, Alex, meeting for the first time. I'd heard about giving the older child a present from the new baby, which seemed like a sound idea. But then our doctor suggested a couple of details to add to that concept, which were especially sweet and successful. She told us to put the present in the hospital bassinet (there's usually a compartment down below), to place a picture of Alex inside the bassinet wall for the baby to "look at," and to NOT have the baby in the room when Alex walked in for the first time. The introduction couldn't have gone more smoothly: When Alex arrived, my husband and I took him to the nursery to pick up the baby. He was so excited to see his own photo in the bassinet and even more psyched about the giant stuffed Nemo underneath. More importantly, he felt like a real insider-like we were all going to accept this new creature into our life together, and like the baby knew about his big brother just as Alex knew about his little brother.

The bliss continued for a couple of days before there were new growing pains to remedy. Stay tuned for more "adjusting to the new baby" adventures.

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Friday, March 28
7:30 pm / I should be swan-diving into bed for my customary TGIF nap, but instead, I'm with some acquaintances for post-work drinks at an uptown bar that's taking it's best shot at "trendy" (read: surly hostess, pricey drinks and low back-killing banquettes). A few drinks and half a week's pay later, I'm scanning my brain and exchanging glances with Boyfriend, calculating a polite exit strategy.

9:00 pm / Boyfriend and I settle into a booth at Blockheads, a lowbrow Mexican chain that he loves for the cheap margaritas and that I love for the liberal application of cheese in the quesadillas.

11:00 pm / Next,we swing by The Auction House, a gem of a bar that's decked out in antique mirrors, dusty crystal chandeliers, and tin ceilings. A few pints of dark beer and we are ready to call it a night. After all, I have to save enough energy to climb the SIX FLIGHTS OF STAIRS to Boyfriend's apartment. Six. Flights.

My husband and I recently cleaned out our storage space and among the items we uncovered was a 1952 first edition of the children's book A Hole Is to Dig written by Ruth Krauss and illustrated by Maurice Sendak. It has quickly become our family's favorite book. The thumbnail illustrations of children are so sweet and gleeful that you're immediately absorbed into their carefree world of play. Even more endearing is how the book invites you to see the world through a child's eyes: It's touted as  "A First Book of First Definitions," and its "definitions" clearly have been created by children--"arms are for hugging" is exactly how a cuddly child would make sense of arms, for example.

This is a refreshingly simple, poetic, and timeless book that your kids will ask you to read over and over and over again (in one sitting). Check out a few more of my favorite definitions.

My four-year-old, Abby, and I make our own paper dolls. She tells me what she wants (princess, artist, cook, ballerina, "sporty girl"...). Then, I draw the outline (note: some doodling skills help), she colors it in, and I cut it out. Here's "Fairy Queen":

I'm not quite sure why these paper figures are so enthralling, but they are; she plays with them by herself for hours on end. I have about 80,000 of them in my house now. She's obsessed. Click below to see "Proper Lady" and "School Girl."

Kirsten McCallum / New York, NY

I used to dread trimming my four-month-old son's fingernails. I was so nervous every time that I'd either go too short and Gavin would wail, or I'd barely cut them at all and he'd look like the Exorcist. True to their name, LiteUps clippers actually light up so I can clip his nails in the dark while he's sleeping. I just get in and get out without him knowing a thing. No tears for him--no fears for me.

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Liz Himelstein / Los Angeles, CA

Our five-year-old daughter, Cordelia, is not allowed to watch television during the week, so we have "Movie Night" every weekend - just Cordelia, mom, and dad. We make yummy snacks together for the event (popcorn, homemade cookies...), and we usually choose a classic like one of the Shirley Temple films, the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, The Yellow Submarine, Little Lulu, or any of the old Disney gems. Cordelia looks forward to it all week long and loves to help with every step of the planning. It makes the event a special family ritual that (I hope) will be a part of her forever.

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Trail mix usually makes me gag, but I can't get enough of Trader Joe's  "Nuts about Antioxidants." It's full of big fat dried raspberries and blueberries, not dusty cubes of mystery fruit. I don't have kids to test it out on, but I discovered it through a parent friend of mine who feeds it to her child. And, I figure if I can be converted, can't a small, picky eater?

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The buzz of my Sonicare toothbrush is my guilt-free Do Not Disturb sign. The toothbrush is pre-programmed to shut off after two minutes, so every night I take a magazine into the bathroom with me and, while I brush my teeth, I sit on the edge of the tub and read a quick article or leaf through a fashion spread. Believe it or not, two uninterrupted minutes feels pretty long!

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I've officially become obsessed with this home video from YouTube. The two little brothers are so sweet, and they have the cutest British accents. I watch it every morning, and my boyfriend and I have even started randomly turning to each other during the day and saying, "Charlie bit me!" or "That really huht, Charlie. And it's still huh-ting."

Apparently, the video has a cult following in England, where it was taped, and it has even inspired a bunch of YouTube spin-offs of adults mimicking it. (Check out a few here and here.) How funny that this relatively normal home recording got such a frenzied reaction, but it really is addictive. Just try to get through it without smiling, I dare you!

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Kerry Macleod / Whistler, Canada

My boys have loved a snappy game of UNO since they were about four years old, so I've learned never to leave home without a pack of the brightly-colored cards in my purse. It has prevented many a meltdown on long road trips, slow ferry rides, and transatlantic flights!

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Whenever and wherever I travel, I pack my jump rope so I make sure to get some good cardio in (no, sightseeing doesn't count). Jumping rope is an excellent form of exercise in any setting (as I learned from Momover columnist, Dana Wood, in her piece "Jumping for Joy"), but it's especially ideal when on the road because the rope is light and soft enough to throw in your purse and you can break a solid sweat in the privacy of your room (rather than an unfamiliar - and sometimes sketchy - hotel gym). So, do like House of Pain says (in the aptly-titled "Jump Around"): "Jump up, jump up, and get down."

Try this jump rope from buyjumpropes.

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For my son Lex's first birthday, I wanted to prepare a festive snack that would be tasty for kids and adults. I ended up making these scrumptious cheese biscuits from a recipe in Nigella Lawson's cookbook, Feast: Food to Celebrate Life (which I happen to love, cover-to-cover). She calls it "Cheesy Feet" because she uses a foot-shaped cookie cutter. But, as she points out in the recipe, you can use any shape you want. I dredged up a star, a leaf and a circle, all of which worked beautifully. The best thing about the recipe is how simple and quick it is: You can pull it off with what you (likely) already have in 30 minutes flat. Even better? Everyone loved it. Here's the recipe, straight from Nigella:

Fleeing the craziness of Manhattan for Ecuador's muddy forests and undeveloped towns might not seem like a vacation to most. But, as I learned on a recent trip to Ecuador to visit my younger sister, it was a vacation in the truest sense: complete escape from everything that is my city life.

Instead of grabbing a salad from the work cafeteria, I spent hours lingering over six-course lunches of shrimp ceviche with popcorn and plaintain chips, freshly fried empanadas, and native fruits.

Hiking to the subway was replaced by hiking long rain forest trails, and instead of napping on my couch in front of the TV, I napped on hammocks at a hummingbird preserve and dangled my feet in Andean hot springs. I also embraced the custom of haggling at sprawling outdoor markets and marveled at children peddling their wares (rather than attending school) so they could provide a few extra dollars for their struggling families.

Unlike other trips I've taken, this experience gave me a glimpse into what it's like not to be a New Yorker and not to be an American. I came back with a whole new appreciation for the things I don't have here and, of course, the things I do. Here's a photo of the outdoor market and another one of me and a new acquaintance.


Check out travel guides to Ecuador and other South American destinations on concierge.com. Bonus: Compared to Europe, South America is still an affordable vacation option for families.

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Michelle Gibbons | Sayville, NY

Whenever I go out to a pizzeria with the kids, I make sure I'm armed with kitchen shears. Why, you ask? Because it's impossible to enjoy your slice of Margherita when you're furiously sawing through their pepperoni pie with a plastic knife. Pizza and shears might not be an obvious association, but with the scissors - which are made sharp enough to cut through meat -dividing a slice (into 17 morsels) takes less than a minute, so you can go back to savoring your own (while it's still hot!).

Find theses Henckels kitchen shears at cooking.com.

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I've tried tons of ways to distract the kids while getting dinner under control, but this method is my favorite because it doesn't involve TV or "helping" (code for making a big mess of flour, honey, water, spices, and whatever else is within reach of their little hands).  Pull a chair up to the sink, turn on the faucet, and squirt some dish soap. Your child will play with the bubbly water and forget you even exist.

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