Monday, October 26, 2015

7 Adorable (& Strange) Jewish Halloween Costumes for Your Entire Family

Joanna Valente for Kveller

Halloween is upon us, whether you like it or not. The spooky holiday has long been a controversial day for Jewish parents–do you let your kids partake in the treat-or-treating and ghoulish garb? Or not?

While we would never tell any parent what to do, we couldn’t help but do a little digging on the internet for Jewish Halloween costumes. What we found ranges from adorable to absolutely absurd. We hope these amuse you just as much as they amused us (our favorite is the last one, of course):

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Monday, October 19, 2015

My Laidback Approach to Allergies Almost Killed My Daughter

Adar Novak for Kveller

I can be pretty persuasive. Especially when it comes to my daughters’ food allergies.

I convinced myself it was alright to give my younger daughter a drop of peanut butter because, I told my husband, laughing, “We have Benadryl in the house!”

I convinced myself that my older daughter wasn’t, in fact, having her first allergy attack in a Thai restaurant.

“Your lips aren’t swollen, sweetie,” I said, annoyed. “They’re just chapped.”

I even persuaded myself that my children’s food allergies would define them if I didn’t take a laid-back approach. That I would telegraph my anxiety to them, and they would become social outcasts.

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Monday, October 12, 2015

Noah’s Giant Rainbow Sprinkle Cookies


Giant Rainbow Sprinkle Cookies are a perfect dessert this weekend!

Makes 12 giant cookies.


¾ c margarine
1 c sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 ½ c flour
1 tsp baking powder
Rainbow Sprinkles

Cream the margarine and sugar together. Add everything else.

Form large balls. Roll the tops of the cookies in the rainbow sprinkle. Press down gently in a muffin top tin or cookie sheet. Bake at 400 for 9-10 minutes.

For more great Jewish cooking ideas, check out our    page.

Monday, October 5, 2015

My Son’s Bris Was Going Fine–Until I Needed to Prove I’m Jewish

Daisy Alpert Florin for Kveller

The smell of butter and onions from the omelette station drifts upstairs to the room where I am changing into my mother-in-law’s clothing. It is the day of my son Sam’s bris, and even though I gave birth eight days earlier, I still look like I’m five months pregnant. My stomach is loose and flabby and looks like a wrung-out piece of cheesecloth. My previously non-existent breasts have ballooned to C-cups. None of my own clothing fits me so my mother-in-law, Annette, who has arranged, paid for, and is hosting this party at her Long Island home, has lent me some of her clothes. I have never loved her more.

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