Carrie Saum

Lately, we have been struggling to feed ourselves good, healthful meals.

Not only was TV working as part of my parenting routine, we also unashamedly used it as a babysitter. Yes, you read that correctly!

Whoever Waldorf is, I love their style of salads the most. Fruit, celery, creamy goodness. It's hard to go wrong. I mean, you CAN go wrong, but you shouldn't because that would be silly.

So, can we be (mostly) done with pumpkin spice all-the-things now? Let’s move on to something better, bolder, more festive.

When I tasted creamy jalapeño dip for the first time, I had to figure out immediately what was in it and how to make it. I was instantly addicted to the herby-creamy-spicy hit with just the faintest vinegary undertone. And by addicted, I mean that I wanted to drink it through a straw.

The shame was overwhelming. Why was my body broken? What had I done to my baby? I began to spiral into self-loathing. Gestational diabetes felt like a failure.

We saw Hurricane Ike coming for days before it made landfall. It was just two short years post-hurricane Katrina, and all of south Texas and Louisiana were still reeling from her trauma. My husband and I began deliberating if we should stay or go. This is my story of surviving natural disasters.

Insisting on capability robs us of vulnerability. It robs us of the village we so desperately need. It creates resentment and mistrust. And most of all, it sets us up to fail.

I cracked the sugar crust, took a bite, and then I actually DID cry. Huge, crocodile tears because it was good and this food tasted the way the city felt. It was home.