I’m grateful for all of Tracy’s excellent ideas and resources regarding allergies (see her previous posts on hosting and attending parties when allergies are a concern). Today, Tracy shares a cookbook (and a couple of fab excerpted recipes) that has proven critical in offering recipes that accommodate her son’s milk, egg, and peanut allergies, and is great for the vegetarians/vegans out there:

Given Laurel’s “hybrid” state, I’m especially committed to finding books or toys that show diversity. To give your babe a global perspective, check out Global Babies, from Boston-area publisher Charlesbridge Books. This board book features 17 babies from around the world, diverse in dress and skin color, but aligned in innocence and beauty of expression.

If you’ve ever felt trapped or tempted by emphatic declarations that your kid will become a genius if you buy product X, Y, or Z, you’re not alone. Check out this lead from Kate: Business Week’s recent review of Buy, Buy Baby: How Consumer Culture Manipulates Parents and Harms Young Minds. Written by investigative reporter and mother of two Susan Gregory Thomas, the book will take you inside the marketing blitz aimed at kids.

My violin calluses may be long gone, but music remains a big part of our household via Jon’s guitar, Laurel’s singing, and our music collection. One challenge, though, has been finding enough music that the adults are able to enjoy, while being suitable for (unbelievably attentive) preschooler ears. We've been lucky that Laurel digs the (less trippy) likes of the Beatles, Bob Dylan, and Paul Simon (she sings along with Jon’s accompaniment), and a recent addition that fits a good, mellow niche is Renee & Jeremy’s It's A Big World.

Every now and then a book reels me in so effectively that I forego sleep for story development. This was the case with The Bright Side of Disaster, which I finished the other night (morning, actually), several hours after Jon and Laurel had drifted off upstairs. Bright Side (available in July, but you can preorder it now) is Katherine Center’s impressive, cheeky debut. And while a story about a deadbeat fiancée who bails on his pregnant wife may sound like troubling content for moms and moms-to-be, the spark and humor of the writing immediately created a central character (Jenny) I wanted to see through to the end.

Jon and I once lived in an apartment with a defunct covered fireplace that became inhabited by a wayward squirrel. Horrified, I vacated the premises, leaving Jon to handle the situation. It seemed, as my mom would say, “man work.” And in this and other instances – particularly those involving vermin, giant bugs, or broken electronics – I’ve wondered about the onus and origin of man work. Does the know-how come from camp, Boy Scouts, MacGyver memories? The modern answer may very well be The Dangerous Book for Boys. There’s no chapter dedicated to squirrel catching (which Jon humanely handled with a trash can and golf club for squirrel nudging), but Dangerous provides excellent fodder to bring back the marvelous, lazy days of summer inquiry, offering the how-to on everything from survival (e.g., knots, first aid, spy codes, tree houses), to gadgets (e.g., batteries, timers and tripwires), to literacy (e.g., grammar, poetry, Latin phrases), to sporting rules, to world history and landmarks, to tales of bravery and adventure.

Kids can be incredibly variable with their food; some days eating very little, and other days eating as if hibernation season is around the corner. Last week, Laurel knocked off a prehibernation-like lunch, including half a tuna melt, a couple of raisins, a few pieces of stinky (bleu) cheese (pilfered from my salad), one kiwi, half a pear, a couple of chunks of avocado, and two rice cakes. We joked about how she was just like The Very Hungry Caterpillar, which currently is one of her favorite books. This beautifully illustrated classic is a must have; in addition to offering a means for kids to learn about counting, food (Laurel of course goes nuts on the junk food bonanza page), and the cycle of life, more recently the book has helped us teach Laurel about being more aware of her body. Specifically, if she’s on a food bender, demanding more, we ask her whether she’s really hungry or if her belly is already full. And now she’ll pause for a moment, sometimes rub her belly or wiggle side to side, then tell us that she is, in fact, still hungry, or that she’s full and doesn’t want to get a stomach ache like the very hungry caterpillar.

Jon and I recently met downtown for lunch and I couldn’t help but feel doubly sheepish; the last time we carved out time to meet midday was back in November, after I was put on the hot seat by New York City marriage and family therapist Esther Perel. And I have been meaning to write about meeting Perel since. No, Perel isn’t my therapist. In November, on an invite from the Manic Mommies, I attended an insightful reading and discussion of her book, Mating in Captivity. During the Q&A I asked whether she had suggestions for, generally, how to connect better on a day to day basis; that our workloads and daily to do lists often left Jon and me scurrying to achieve household or e-mail tidiness after Laurel went to bed. Perel asked when I last went out to dinner with Jon. I stammered about the challenges of having anyone other than Auntie Sha-Sha put Laurel to bed. She asked whether Laurel was in day care and then asked when I last met Jon for lunch. I explained that since I left my downtown job it took more time to meet up midday and that I already felt pressed for hours in the week. Even as I scrabbled for these justifications I knew that I just needed to make the time; that finding connection with my partner was worth those couple hours (and that the household chores, fortunately and unfortunately, would always be there another day).

With a room full of preschoolers, a meltdown, mischief, or other parental grimace inducers are inevitable. Last weekend, at the birthday party of one of Laurel’s friends, as one mom moved to negotiate her son’s behavior, she rolled her eyes and astutely said, “I think half of parenting involves worrying whether the other parents think you’re doing a good enough job.” So true. You feel a million judging eyes when your kid loses it in public, and want to evaporate when you can’t control the behavior. Fittingly, my husband Jon just finished reading a book on parenting and behavior; he steps in this morning with a guest post reviewing Unconditional Parenting: Moving from Rewards and Punishments to Love and Reason.

Puzzling over the how, when, and what of solid feeding can burn countless parental energy units; my cousin Pauline recently wrote in to recommend First Meals by Annabel Karmel. Written for parents ready to mix it up in the kitchen, this book covers nutrition basics, home prep process and gear, and recipes and menus for babies and kids. Pauline’s daughter enjoys lots of the recipes! We used the older version of First Meals, and while I didn’t have the energy to cut and structure all of Laurel’s food to look like animal faces and shapes, we did get a lot of great ideas about what to try when, and different menus to present. Plus, for a good month or two, Laurel was wildly entertained by the book itself; she spent a lot of time giggling at the pictures of said food animals.

It's probably safe to say that most people love adorable little mice in all forms other than as real, breathing critters. These days one of our favorite books is Ellen Stoll Walsh’s Mouse Paint ($5.95 at Amazon). This beautifully illustrated board book tracks the adventures of three white mice who, when not hiding from the cat, have a grand time showing you what they’ve learned about color mixing. There’s even a bit of dry humor included for parents.

Parenting is one of the toughest jobs out there; tack on the pressure to conform to the ever present “shoulds” (offered by those who know you well or not at all) or the breezy, effusive parenting reports from celebrities, and it’s no wonder parents often feel that they have to put on airs about how seamlessly things are going at home. On the flip side, you’ll get nothing but the truth from Meredith O’Brien, a Boston-based writer/blogger whose new book, A Suburban Mom: Notes from the Asylum, includes a collection of essays reflecting the disparity between parenting reality and fiction. O’Brien’s perspective comes from that of a mother of three who discovered that her stay-at-home mom status (even once she started freelance writing again) relegated her – in non-at-home circles – as someone whose “experience and knowledge apparently [were] no longer relevant.”