I’m starting to wonder what it is about 2, that magical age when apparently a toddler can start eating fish, honey and eggs.

My daughter will be 2 at the end of March. What is going to change 52 days from now that will allow her to ingest peanut butter? I love peanut butter and feel bad when I can’t share it with her. I’ve given her little tastes, but never gone full board because I start picturing her going into anaphylactic shock with no Epi pen in sight. Still, I think we may have to have at the very least, peanut butter chocolate cupcakes at her birthday party. YUM!!!

I know all of this has to do with allergies, but I’m not clear on how she might have a reaction now and not in two months? Either way, I guess I’ll wait since we’ve already come this far. 52, 51, 50—let the countdown begin.

Admittedly, the egg ban was lifted several months ago. Sometimes I think it’s more hype when you consider that only 3 to 6 percent of all children have food allergies. The concept of peanut-free tables in school cafeterias still fascinates me.

My oldest has signed a lease for her own place and plans to move out this weekend with luck.

We spent last weekend wandering around kitchen stores and kitchen outlet stores looking at gear. She has a lot of stuff from her college apartment, and inherited some stuff from when my mother died last October, but you can always use more knives, we figure.

She and I share a passion for very sharp knives. So we’ve been checking out knife displays and discussing which of the many knives in my kitchen she can have for her own kitchen. I have a short-bladed Victorinox paring knife I’m willing to let her have and a large-bladed Santoku knife I was going to pack along with her stuff, both from my mother’s kitchen. Then there’s one of our two bread knives, one of my three carving knives — how many knives does it take to start a kitchen, I wonder?

When Zyla turned 1, I started giving her organic whole milk rather than the conventional variety. Not everything she eats is organic, but I decided I would fork over the couple of extra bucks for these organic goods because it’s the one daily constant in her life. With organic milk, I didn’t have to worry about cows treated with bovine growth hormones or antibiotics and whether what they were consuming contained pesticides. In other words, stuff that can raise the risk of getting cancer. Of course, there is research that does and does not support these health claims, but why wonder?

After a recent conversation with my sister though, I’m starting to wonder again. She, who happens to be a surgeon specializing in breast cancers, told me organic doesn’t mean the farmer isn’t getting the milk from pregnant cows. These cows have elevated levels of estrogen and progesterone that are particularly high in the late stages of pregnancy.

Scientists have long been concerned about the link between cancer and hormones, mostly estrogen. Breast cancer, in particular, has been associated with the consumption of cheese and milk. Here’s an interesting article on the topic. One solution, the article suggests, is drinking skim milk. Hormones seem to live in milk fat. But for a toddler, not quite 2, I think she still may need the nutrients provided in whole milk.

The article says more longterm studies need to be conducted on the health effects drinking milk has on children. In the meantime, I’m wondering if there is a way to find out if certain milks may come from non-pregnant cows?

After a frustrating few days trying to find nitrite-free lunch meet for my kids, I finally wrote to Trader Joe’s asking them if they would open a store in my neighborhood. I live up in Orange County and the closest store where I can find nitrite free meat is in New Jersey or Westchester. Which is a shame because all of us should be able to shop for the food that is healthy and free of toxins.

My local ShopRite does have nitrite-free ham, but that’s the only option. And my older son will only eat ham at last resort. I find I struggle every day to come up with a lunch for him that is healthy. I don’t always succeed. I go between sandwiches (with deli meats that have nitrites) peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and bagels and cream cheese, and after that I run out of ideas. I guess all working moms have this problem. I nervous about putting a piece of cooked chicken in his sandwich because it will probably sit in his locker from 7:30 till the early afternoon.

As a kid I always took a vegetarian lunch to school – stuffed paranthas, a kind of Indian bread with vegetables — and enjoyed it. It was cooked in the morning and kept very well till the afternoon. Now that we live in the U.S., our kids are used to eating some form of meat all the time. Ah well …

You know those peanut butter filled crackers that kids love, well don’t give any to your kids because they may be tainted with salmonella. Watch out for the Keebler variety and check out this video.

In the last few days, I’ve twice come across this idea of throwing “chicken pox parties,” in order to expose children to the disease so that they don’t have to get the varicella vaccination, thought by some to be linked to autism.

The plan is to throw a party—where one child is infected—and have a bunch of kids run around together, cough on each other, share lollipops and spoons. In other words, engage in all sorts of germ-swapping antics.

I don’t know what’s more disturbing, throwing the party or going to one. I think it’s quite cruel to intentionally expose your child to an illness. I mean a cold, maybe, but we’re talking painful, itchy sores all over your body, fever and sore throat. Serious complications, like Reye Syndrome—while rare—can also happen.

Imagine having to live with sending your child to a chicken pox party and that child later developing lifelong problems or possibly dying from the experience. That probably wouldn’t happen but it’s not the type of gamble I’m willing to take on my daughter. I’d rather her exposure come the old-fashioned way.

I understand the very real concerns parents have about vaccinations and autism. I’m still not convinced there isn’t a link. Believe me, I’ve drilled Zyla’s pediatrician about every inoculation she’s gotten and did not allow them to administer one a mere 12 hours after she was born. There was a time I considered not giving her any but living amongst a family of doctors ultimately showed me the benefits far outweigh the risks.

Even so, there’s got to be a better way than throwing chicken pox parties, which, by the way, is gaining popularity. Check out this New York Post story that ran Sunday that includes an anonymous Cold Spring mom, who posted an ad on Craigslist in search of a pox party and eventually drove three hours to one such fete. Her 2-year-old daughter still hasn’t gotten the infection even after she made her sleep in pajamas mailed to her by another child who had it. Ugh!!!

Photo of child receiving chicken pox vaccine courtesy of TJN.

My brother-in-law’s grandson is a nut about ranch dressing.

Apparently he dips everything he can get into his 3-year-old hands in ranch: grapes, breakfast cereal, cookies, ice cream—and his mother and grandmother travel with a small tub of ranch to keep him happy.

It’s been 13 years since I had a child that young and have forgotten all the little things you do to keep peace until this came up. Now I think of it, I recall my sister’s complaint that her son (who is now a sophomore in college) would only eat peanut butter, and preferred to dip things into it much as the youngest member of our extended family does today.

Well, eventually the ranch phase will depart, much as my nephew’s peanut butter phase went away. I just can’t get the image of dipping ice cream in ranch dressing out of my mind, though.

Every now and then, Aristu, my youngest will agree to eat a small bite of peanut butter. He’s not crazy about it; he refuses to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The last time I tried to give him one, he spat it out and exclaimed peee-uuuuu, baby speak for disgusting.

So I was quite amused when yesterday he seemed to suddenly discover peanut butter. His older brother, who loves all things with peanuts, was licking a tablespoonful when Aristu asked for some. I gave him a teeny weeny bit in bis baby spoon. He licked it, murmured deli-cious, and asked for more.

He went back and forth for almost half-an-hour, licking at spoonful after spoonful of peanut butter until I became concerned that he was going to fall sick. Billi, my oldest, who thinks that peanut butter can do no wrong, explained in the way only a serious 12-year-old can, that peanut butter was full of protein and couldn’t possibly hurt his little brother.

Anyway, Aristu didn’t fall sick and actually finished his dinner by eating four florets of brocolli and some applesauce and a slice of ham. When I think of previous dinners when I had to deal with his fussy eating habits,  I was glad I managed to get some good food into him. Take one day at a time, huh?

We were in India last month to celebrate my father-in-law’s 80th birthday. “Sathabhishekam”—as the traditional ceremony commemorating the ripe age is called—is considered a very important milestone, for one is believed to have seen a 1000 full moons by then.

Over the course of the three-day festivities—which included mehendi (henna) designs for the women and a classical music concert one evening—we were treated to many wonderful south Indian meals. And, as is the practice at traditional functions in south India, the food was served on perfectly organic banana leaves.

There are no spoons or forks in use either; everyone is expected to wash their hand thoroughly before sitting down to eat.

My daughter, who is growing up to be quite the traditionalist, savored the whole experience, wiping her leaf clean each time. My son, not as adventurous, unfailingly demanded a spoon.

But both the children loved the experience of eating in a large dining hall, surrounded by family and friends, soaking in the sights, smells and sounds of India.

Although this was the first big traditional celebration they were attending, they seemed to be at home 10,000 miles away from their “yellow house” in New York.

So for Christmas my husband gave me a Breville juicer that I couldn’t be more excited about. I have heard, read and reread the healthy wonders of juicing and now that I have one, I know what all the fuss is about. There really is nothing better or sweeter than fresh juiced fruit.

During the holidays, my brother had given us a case of fruit, including apples, mangoes, papayas, strawberries, blueberries and pineapples. I learned that you have to put in a lot of berries to get some juice out of them, not so much for the apple varieties.  My daughter and I enjoyed some wonderful pineapple, mango and strawberry concoctions and an apple, blueberry delight. I’m making her into a little juice lover. The only bad part about juicing is the cleanup, but it’s so worth the mess.

I’m looking for some more juice recipes. Suggestions appreciated. I think it’s time I add some fresh veggies to the mix.