Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Nina Garcia

Yesterday I wrote an article about Photoshop and software that attempts to rate how altered an image is. In the images used as examples was a picture of the beautiful Nina Garcia, seen here:

Then, I pressed 'Toggle', and a funny thing happened:

Let's look at those side by side for a moment, shall we?

When I see them side by side, I notice that Nina is naturally beautiful, and that the picture I had first assumed to be Nina in full face makeup was actually a cartoon version of the glorious Ms. Garcia. As someone who is acutely aware of image manipulation (I mean, I just wrote an article about it!) I am shocked by what I'm willing to accept visually. It's obvious when I see the original that her makeup, skin tone, skin color, hair color, and eyebrows are completely fake. But why could I not tell that when I saw the original alone?

I wonder what Nina thinks about this.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Heart-stopping

I got  a letter in the mail today that said that I had not completed the 48 credits in the past x semesters I needed to be enrolled in school. I looked at the letter, counted up my credits again, and then panicked again. I called the school - turns out, even though they've been sending me graduation materials for months now, when a teacher gives you an incomplete, they tell you that you haven't qualified. As soon as the report is in and the grade is submitted, I'm clear.

Goddammit, you'd think they'd be more careful about that.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Things I'd Buy

By things, I pretty much mean clothes. Here we go!
This would come in handy just about every Shabbat
Hello! A shaped sweatshirt so I don't look like the blob!?
This would dress up most long sleeve shirts
Okay, I'm going to take a quick break. My HTML skills are super rusty, and I'm very tired. Anyhow, enjoy the linked sites and the clothes made for us bigger yet still curvy women. Thank God someone is designing clothes for over a size 12 with a defined waist!

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Poor neglected blog

Now that school is over, I will hopefully get back into the writing regularly groove.

In the meantime, I really want to share this video. It's worth a watch and a share with your loved ones:

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Lingering Fears

I've always had an overactive imagination, and am somewhat susceptible to suggestion. That's why I avoid horror movies, thrillers, violent TV shows, and the like. After glimpsing a trailer for a zombie movie over a year ago, I still sometimes will fling the bathroom door fully open at 3 am to make sure there's no creepy living-dead neighbor hiding there waiting to get me.

Normally in these situations, I think of my kids, and my irrational fear dies own. No, Dani, there are no vampires/werewolves/zombies/scary monsters. This is real life, you're a mom, you have kids, you're Jewish and you don't believe in that crap!

Still, I sometimes see images or read things that disturb, and my mind goes into over-drive. This is best accomplished when I'm tired, everyone else is sleeping, and it's getting late.

Tonight I was watching a show where there was a murderer on the loose. As the show was wrapping up, my baby started to cry. I got up, and a little prickle of fear started at the back of my neck. I shrugged it off with my usual "Hi, real life calling - that's your baby crying!" I walked into the kids' room, still with this vague sense of danger. I looked at my sleeping daughters, my wailing son in his crib, and I thought of the Fogels. I thought of the real monsters that are in the world, the horrors that can't be shrugged off. I grabed my baby and walked out to the living room shaken.

I feel that I have been somewhat emotionally unstable since I read about the Fogels' murders. I have been moved to tears very easily for the last week and-a-half. I have been over-reacting to things, jumpy, and somewhat neurotic. I don't think I will ever fully go back to that same complacent self I was just 2 weeks ago, that person who could walk into the room of sleeping children and be assured that all was right with the world simply because they're there.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

I can't

I can't.

I can't stop thinking about it. About them. About a mother, walking out of her bathroom to see her dead baby in her dead husband's arms, the murderers in front of her, knowing that she would die, knowing that more of her children would die...

I can't stop thinking about the people whose reactions have been so callous.

I can't look at my children now without thinking about how, why, what it means to take a knife to a child, a baby...

I can't understand. I just can't understand. My soul is screaming. It's one horror piled on another.

There is a distinct loss of humanity in the people who killed the Fogels. There is a loss of humanity in the people whose first reaction was political, whatever side those politics may be.

My head is spinning, and I'm not sure what I'm thinking anymore. I am overwhelmed, still somewhat unbelieving that what happened happened. I can't bring myself to look at the pictures, partially because I'm scared that I'll eventually get used to the images. I don't ever want to get used to what happened. I don't ever want to get over the butchering of a family, of babies in their sleep. There are things in life that always haunt us, and the murder of the Fogels will always be with me.

I can't have it any other way.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Tears in my eyes

My friend just posted this video:



To think that in my life I've gone from marching on DC for Russian Refusniks to watching Jews sing in the streets of St. Petersburg about Purim...

Chodesh Adar Sameach! והחודש אשר נהפך להם מיגון לשמחה ומאבל ליום טוב - כן תהיה לנו (h/t Dov Karrol)

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Nambe, I love you

When we got engaged, I picked out candlesticks that I just loved. I got 2 tall ones (14") and 4 shorter ones (9", pictured), and it kicked off an obsession with the designs put out by Nambe.
So imagine my delight when I found that they have a whole line of Judaica!
Kiddush cup
Challah Knife

Seder Plate

They have menorahs and a dreidel, too. Beautiful.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

It's been busy!

3 kids, 3 college classes. A lot to juggle.

Doing school online means that it's all reading and writing, then reading and writing some more. In a way, it's far more intensive than regular college, and it takes a lot more discipline. There's no roommate headed to class, there's no study group down the hall, there's no teacher standing there twice a week in front of you. Instead, there's a group of boisterous children and one amazing husband who is willing to shoulder dinner-, bath-, and bedtime by himself so that I can work. And that can entail a few hours of cajoling the littlest one who is teething and cranky at times.

School is going well so far. We're 2 weeks in, the teachers seem to like what I have to say, and there is a blessed end in sight. I'm enjoying the course work, and am lucky enough to have friends willing to help me edit when I can't seem to find the headspace to do it.

Dudes - it takes a village, but Dani is going to graduate : )

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Freezing!

There was a weird noise and then a funny plastic-melting smell in the house last night. We turned down the heat and checked the CO detector as a precaution, only to find that our landlord had never installed a sensor pack. We called poison control to ask about the smell, and they said to turn off the heat and get the kids out of the house, then call 911. Avraham plugged in an electric heater in each of the bedrooms, and we took the kids out to the car, with the help of one of our very kind local policemen. Within minutes there more cop cars, individual responders from the volunteer fire department, and 2 fire trucks outside our house. They checked the levels and the furnace and deemed the house safe to return to. The chief told us to call the emergency repair line and get the furnace checked and cleaned.
We called last night, and for some reason (I don't know because I was in bed with the baby), the guy didn't come. We scheduled for this morning between 8:30 and 9, and I'm still waiting. But now it's about 58 degrees in the house, my fingers are stiffening from cold, and I'm wondering when we're going to get our furnace fixed and turn the heat back on. It's January in Long Island - not a good time to be without heat for 12+ hours...

Friday, January 14, 2011

Thoughts on MLK Day

I have a shita not to donate money to places that perpetuate a lifestyle and viewpoint that I don't believe in. I don't donate money to the schools I went to as a child in Scranton because I have a very hard time with the goals they have for their students as well as their outlook on life in general.

As we commemorate the birth of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. this weekend, I started to think about the education my girls are already receiving about him in preschool, and tried to figure out when I had first heard of him, and when I first became aware of that whole chapter of American history.

The only conversation I remember hearing about black people in elementary school was when a teacher instructed us that when we see a black man approaching, we should cross the street for our own safety. My eyebrows raised, I asked why. She said it was for safety reasons.

Not long thereafter, I was walking home with a good friend and I mentioned that I was really bothered by what our teacher had said. I'm not sure exactly how the conversation got there, but at one point I said "I mean, there are black Jews!"
My friend looked at me, and declared "There are NOT!"
This was shortly after Operation Solomon in 1991, and the Ethiopian Jews were the only black Jews I knew of. So I told her about the amazing air-lifts, which I'm realizing now means our school never breathed a word about them.

We learned about Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War. Mrs. Augustine (than you for this!) asked us to write journal entries as if we were living at that time. I'll never forget Rachaeli Ganz's hilarious take on the life of a plantation owner's daughter. It was along the lines of: I woke up at 9 am today, and was upset to find that my breakfast was not ready yet - I was up early and hungry! After I got dressed I was so hot that I had to sit on the front porch and get fanned while I drank iced tea. What a hard day.

Sometime around 8th or 9th grade we were assigned an essay in history class and given a wide-open choice of topics, and my mother suggested I research and write about the Civil Rights Movement and Dr. King. She sat with me and looked through our piano music until we found the song We Shall Overcome, which I quickly learned. I learned the ugly history of what happened after the Civil War, and the inspirational change that came about. I saw that Jewish leaders were actively involved in supporting the cause, going on marches and Freedom Rides.

So it was a little hard to take when my principal in 9th grade, while talking about Tziporah (Moshe's wife) made a comment about black people innately being ugly and that you 'can't tell them apart'. I recall calling him out on it, but I was the one who was left looking weird, not him. Yes - the very same people teaching me that we curtail our Hallel-related happiness on Pesach because the Miztrim who drowned were God's creations just saw black people as Other, with no sympathy for anything *these* creatures of God experienced.

I'm lucky enough that I trusted my mother over my teachers, and that I absorbed her message instead of theirs. The fact is, the people who said those things are otherwise nice people and not what one pictures when one says 'racist'. They are people who do chesed, who live religious lifestyles, and who think of themselves as good and caring people. Yet the world outside of the yeshivish Askenazi Jewish community doesn't seem to interest them at all. They are not fervent supporters of Israel, they don't like Chabad, they don't like less frum people, they have no need for 'goyim' except as they may work together. They don't care about the struggles of any other group.

Luckily, they are a minority in the Jewish world. Luckily, I got out and went to Bruriah, where Mrs. Kahn shook my faith in the Founding Fathers and where Mr. Glaser assigned us to learn in depth about things I Never thought a Jewish school would care about. Luckily I found a group of religious Jews who do care about the rest of the world, and who understand that prejudice against *any* group affects every group. Luckily I learned that Jews, and all people, come in every color, and the measure of a person has nothing to do with skin color, religious affiliation, or lack thereof.

I know today that it is my religious and ethical duty to teach my children to respect all people. It is my duty to let my children know that Jews can look white, black, Asian, Latino - any which way. It is my duty to teach my children that there is no room for prejudice in our lives, and that when they hear words of prejudice they have to speak out.

The people who hold those views, they may not be bad people in some senses, but they allow for bad things to happen. We're lucky to live in a time and a country where we have the same rights as other people. Let's not betray our history by embracing our good fortune to the detriment of others. Yes, in today's America many Jews can pass for white, and many choose to use that luxury without thinking about it. While we should be grateful for the opportunities afforded us now that weren't, say, 50 years ago, we should also be working to bring all people to the point of simply being accepted.

Anyone who tries to justify religious Jewish racism by saying that Jews aren't supposed to mix with other people (as was once told to me by another well-meaning yet completely racist person) should take a good long look around the Jewish world and honestly reevaluate. Take a look at Jewish history and reevaluate! Do you think Avraham Avinu looked like he was from Norway? Do you think Moshe Rabbeinu looked like he was from Ireland? Learning and davening to elevate the world only goes so far if you're not actually going to step in to functionally help change the world - all it takes is changing the way you think.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Chatati

I have spoken in anger.
I have wished ill on others.
I have been angry, infuriated even, over things beyond my control, and spoken out in that rage.

I knew it was wrong, but everyone was doing it...

As if that's an excuse?
I expect more from myself. I expect more from my children. I tell my kids that speaking out or acting out in anger is even worse than doing the same thing at any other time, because you're letting your anger take you over.

I will curb my language, my imagery, and even my thoughts. I will not waste time listening to anyone who speaks in anger, I will not catch myself nodding my head in agreement to a hate-filled rant against the other side - no matter who that other side is.

Life is not a game, and we need to stop treating it that way.

If a kid in public school had said the things our politicians and talking heads have been saying... if they had made images like the images that have been circulating, but with their fellow students' faces, homes, or names on them, there would have been an intervention. There would have been a suspension, a thorough evaluation of that student's motivations and psychological soundness. There would have been a concerned group of adults interceding to make sure that no one be harmed, that the student calm down.

If we know enough to not allow this behavior in our public schools, how can we allow it in our public offices?

"Chinese" Mother responds

The mom who wrote the article that kicked off that bit of nastiness has clarified her position, and DUH, it's basically what I said: it has to come from a place of love.

Here, listen to her

I will say quickly that I definitely believe in having high expectations, along with letting my kids know that I have complete faith that they can meet those expectations.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Things that make me happy

1. Batya is finally going home. This may be the best news I've ever heard.

2. That my kids looks like me. It must be a little selfish to want to see myself in my kids, but there youhave it - I love that when I look at my munchkins, especially when they're being cute or brilliant, I see a bit of myself in there. And when they're misbehaving and I see myself, it's also kind of amazing - I see the things they learned from me that I need to curtail, I see the faces they make that are just like my nieces and nephews, and often I'm highly entertained by the stories they tell and the shenanigans they pull in trying to get out of trouble. In short, looking at my children makes me happy.

3. This color

4. And this color


5. Cooking artichokes - boiling, steaming, or roasting, doens't matter. Smells great and reminds me of Abba.

6. Singing with my kids on Shabbat while Avraham is at shul - there is a sweetness to the time that we *have* to spend plugged into each other. While we choose it during the week, making it fun on Shabbat is more challenging, and therefore more rewarding.

7. Listening to my kids laugh together. It's completely infectious and makes me think how fun life will be with them and for them. It's good to know that they will always have each other to rely on, and will want to be there for one another.

8. Driving to Pennsylvania. I just get happy when I cross into my home state.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Yona, take heart:

You never win...

You know those parents who are just poised to take offense? Who like to be different, but can't handle it when someone disagrees with their methods? I just had a run-in with one of them.

In regards to this article, my friend posted saying there were some things to learn from the mom who wrote it. I commented, my friend commented back, and then a friend of hers chimed in about how she loved the article. She mentioned that she sometimes calls her kids
nasty little brats'.

I wrote, mostly in response to my friend, the following:
My daughter would be really hurt if I called her garbage, and not because she's frail. Because she knows not to talk meanly to others, and would be hurt if I spoke meanly to hurt.
In our house we talk about healthy bodies. Fat is not the issue - I have to encourage my younger daughter to eat more balanced meals because she can get too thin, which is not good for a 3-year old. Calling them names wouldn't be teaching them how to eat properly.
I'm reasonably strift. I'm the mom who says no to treats, who has to throw out non-Kosher awesome-looking food almost daily that they get from school, and who makes them wait for the adults before eating from the kiddush. My kids are well-versed in strict behavior. But I don't feel the need to be mean. The world is mean enough.



and then directly addressed the other friend (whom I don't know):

Xxx, many things can be said if they're said with love. Most people don't lovingly call their children nasty. Rather than tell my child she or he *is* a brat, I'd tell her or him not to *behave like* a brat.



I thought I had expressed my views and SOP without being offensive. Boy was I wrong (note the misspelling of my name, which is kinda funny):


Well Daniella, you are entitled to raise your kids according to whatever way you wish. As am I, so how bout we knock off the condescending attitude k? Thanks. And sorry you think your kids feelings are too "delicate" to be ruffled. If you think I'm defensive, I am. I don't appreciate the holier than thou attitude. Sometimes kids don't "get the love" thing and they need a mirror held up to their face. I'm glad what works for you works for you, but allow others their way as well, or are you ganna teach your kids that others aren't allowed to have their own way? Anyway, Yyy, like I said, thanks for the article.


I replied with the following 2 posts:
I didn't mean to be condescending, and I apologize if it came across that way. I just come from where I was as a kid (which was waaaay sensitive), and I'm sure you are a very loving parent being as Yyy is friends with you and I trust her judgement. I just don't think that the mother in this article understands that her way doesn't work for everyone (she sounds very judgmental at points). Again, most parents I know don't say 'nasty' or 'brat' lovingly, and I know enough verbally abusive parents to have those words bother me a lot. I didn't mean it as a judgment on *you*, and I'm sorry you took it that way. I thought I had phrased myself carefully enough to make it clear that I was not attacking you. Again, I'm sorry for upsetting you - it was completely not my intention.
But I particularly don't like how you just came out and attacked me or my kids without giving me the benefit of the doubt at all, if we're holding up mirrors.



Seriously, I'm re-reading what I wrote to you, and I thought it was obvious that I was assuming you say things from a place of love (that doesn't mean gently or delicately). I'm not sure why you're so pissed about that...


Between me and her, I don't think I was the condescending one... But I'm definitely the one who's bothered enough to post this on her blog, so I'm probably the crazier one.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Clarification on an Agunah case

THE ORGANIZATION FOR THE RESOLUTION OF AGUNOT

January 6, 2011 / ‫א' שבט תשע"א‬
Regarding “Religious Divorce Dispute Leads to a Secular Protest” (New York Times, January
4th, 2011):
Though the Maryland Court Order states that Mr. Friedman’s weekend visitations begin
at 6 p.m. on Friday afternoon, Ms. Epstein, who is an Orthodox Jew, has always been
accommodating in providing Mr. Friedman with ample time before the Jewish Sabbath to begin
weekend visitations with their daughter. Contrary to the implication of the article, Mr.
Friedman has never been denied access to his daughter due to his observance of the Sabbath.
Thus, Mr. Friedman’s refusal to issue a get (Jewish divorce) is not a quid pro quo for Ms.
Epstein’s alleged refusal to provide him with reasonable access to their daughter. Rather, Mr.
Friedman is trying to use the get as leverage by forcing Ms. Epstein to accept a drastically
modified visitation schedule which, according to the Maryland court, is not in the best interests
of the child, in order for Ms. Epstein to receive her get and be free to remarry within her faith.
We at the Organization for the Resolution of Agunot (ORA) believe that a get must never
– under any possible circumstance – be used as leverage to negotiate the contentious issues of a
divorce settlement. Mr. Friedman’s behavior is extortionary, and it is that abuse which we will
continue to protest.
Rabbi Jeremy Stern
Executive Director, ORA
Miriam S. Colton, Esq.
Director of Cases, ORA
551 West 181st Street, Suite 123, New York, NY 10033 | (212) 795-0791 | info@getORA.org | www.getORA.org

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Am Yisrael Chai!

Strains on the Middle Class

As some of you may recall, a little over 3 years ago Avraham was the 2nd car in a 3-car pileup. A car had come to a full stop in the HOV lane on the LIE during rush house, and the CR-V in front of Avraham stopped behind it. Avraham slowed down (in our Camry) and then slammed on his brakes, tapping the back of the CR-V. The car behind Avraham chose not to brake, and instead tried to switch lanes, only to swerve back and slam into our car, crumpling the entire passenger side. The owman in front of Avraham then sued us for damages.

Fast forward to yesterday, when I went to switch to NY state insurance because I'm finally becoming a NY State resident (boo!). They told me that they were going to try to switch me to one of the better companies and give me various discounts. They called back today to say that they couldn't upgrade us. It turns out that that woman got $100 for physical pain, and $5000 for damages to her car, which in the police report were NON EXISTENT. So we've been paying through the nose for auto insurance, and will continue to do so for another 2 years, because an at-fault accident counts for 5 years, and a payout over $1000 kicks your insurance up - a lot.

So what's the lesson learned? Should Avraham have denied that our car touched her car before the guy behind him plowed into the Camry? That would be horrible. It would be lying, cheating the system, and screwing someone else. But how is it right that this woman got away with lying like she did, and giving us a huge bill that we've been carrying in the form of crazy insurance rates? It's infuriating that she screwed us so badly. It's infuriating that the guy who caused the accident didn't have to pay out anything to the people who got into the accident. It's infuriating that the guy who demolished our car would have walked away scot-free if I hadn't hounded his insurance for 3 months, because we didn't have collision on our policy.

The whole thing has me annoyed, and has me wondering why the system skews towards liars and cheats. And Allstate? All that BS you spout in your commercials about accident-forgiveness? WHAT THE HELL?!

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

To Love One's Neighbor

One of my fondest, and most spectacular, childhood memories is from when I was 8 years old. Originally it was cool to me because I was going to be staying up until midnight, but it didn't take long until there was added significance for me, even at that young age.

My mother, who has a surprisingly strong hippie streak in her, took me with her to march on Washington in December 1987 on behalf of the refuseniks - Soviet Jews who were barred from leaving the USSR, often thrown in jail. One of the most famous is Natan Sharansky, who endured all kinds of things while imprisoned. He and his wife now live freely in Jerusalem (I read his memoir when it was published in 1988, and am due for a re-read).

I remember taking the bus to DC. We got food, drinks, and one of the adults had Bazooka gum for us. There was a thrum of excitement on the bus, even if I didn't know exactly what we were excited about. We were also given kazoos by Mr. Sprung - and then asked NOT to play them on the bus! I remember seeing masses of people in DC, and understanding that I was taking part in something that was much bigger than anything I would understand immediately. I looked at the Lincoln Memorial and thought about how he would have approved of what we were doing that day.

I don't remember what my mother told me when she first proposed this trip. I don't remember her explanation of what was happening with Soviet Jewry. But I remember my sister 'twinning' her bat-mitzva with a girl from Russia, and later meeting that girl when she and her family moved to Israel. I remember meeting Yosef Begun at his home in Israel, and the sense that his attachment to Israel was deeper and different than mine (is there such a thing as Soveit Jewish zen? Because he would be the master). I remember the excitement in our home when Russian Jews started moving into Scranton. We became an unofficial welcome wagon. I learned some Russian, studying a dictionary over one summer, able to communicate enough to say hi, welcome, do you want soup... the basics : )

It lit a fire in me. I understood that one person, one very small person, could change things by sheer force of will. By standing up for others, by actively helping others, by opening up our home and our hearts, we could change the world for the people around us. There was a sense of pride and of true affection for our fellow Jews that I struggle to recapture today.

As a mother of 3 very young children, I wonder when my kids will be ready to take part in helping the world. How young is too young to go on a Midnight Run? What protests will be meaningful enough to me that I will drag out with a kid on a bus for hours, not getting home until midnight, but know that it's worth it to see that knowledge of the power of an individual light in their eyes?

I don't think I ever thanked my mother for inspiring me, including me, and indoctrinating me with the idea that we are all responsible for one another. So, Ima, thank you. You forged a part of me that is one of the parts I'm proudest of. It's a part that I've always felt was uniquely ours, and not very common in the Orthodox Jewish world. You and Abba both have always made me proud with your generosity of spirit, both within our immediate community, and the global Jewish community. When we Bronsteins do go on our first family march or protest or just to help out the new people in town, it will be because of that one bus trip, that day that inspired a lifetime.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Hey, 18?

I would love to hang out with younger-me for a little while. I would totally love to see her how she really was, and I think she would be highly amused (and somewhat reassured) by me.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

A rash is a rash...

Earl developed an ear infection about a week and a half ago, and we, the parents, were given the lovely job of dispensing his medicine to him. It took all of 2 days before he was screaming and crying (you know this crying - the one that echoes off the walls, make the glasses shake, with tears rolling and nose running, face red and scrunched up) when he saw me holding any of the various dispensing tools. And we tried them all! The measured medicine spoon, a regular measuring spoon, the bulb syringe from his tylenol, the vacuum syringe from his ibuprofen, a regular measuring cup from Benadryl...

For a while we were able to get him to swallow his medicine by pouring some in, a little at a time, and then scooping the rest back in on my finger and letting him suck/lick/bite it off (did I mention the 2 little teeth? Yeah).

By Friday, he was a wreck. He was feeling better ear-wise, but had picked up some form of what I had, and the poor little thing now had a runny nose and slightly congested cough.

Here's the past 54 hours of Earl's life:
on Friday I made meatballs. When I finished, I sat down to nurse the baby. I looked at him while he was nursing and noticed a slight rash on his face. "Brilliant!," I thought, "I just touched him with egg protein on my hands from the meatballs, and now he's having another reaction." The rash was on his chest and abdomen to when I took a quick glance, and I was at a loss because I didn't remember touching him there at all. We had also just switched him back to cloth diapers, so I tried to figure out if there was something on the diaper that could be bothering his whole body.

When the rash hadn't faded by bedtime, we force-fed him some Benadryl (cue the screaming), and got him to bed. Shabbat morning, the rash was still there. It would get darker and lighter, but it was on his whole body, and didn't seem to be bothering him. I was convincing myself that there was still egg protein somewhere on me that was getting on to him.

When the rash was still in full force last night, I asked Avraham if we should call the doctor. I looked up some visual guides to rashes online and determined that the rash could have been an allergic reaction to the antibiotics, a virus that came along with his cold and cough, a weird form of roseola with no leading fever, measles, or any other virus/allergic reaction (although the rash does not look like hives, which is how his previous contact allergy expressed itself). Avraham didn't seem very concerned (the baby was mostly happy), so I held off and called my sister in Israel instead. Yes, really. She shared some of her thoughts with me, and asked that I call in the morning.

This morning, when the rash was still in full force, I finally called the doctor, who was equally calm. She said that if the rash should turn purple, blood-red, or he should have trouble breathing, we should go to the ER. Otherwise, if the rash is still there tomorrow, we should go to his doctor.

It's even on the soles of his feet (this is the pinkish post-bath variety)
So, after all that, I have absolutely nothing to report. And you know what? This is completely typical of life with a baby. Lots of confusion and some stress and in the end, nothing definitive. You just have to roll with it and trust your gut. And, when needed, the gut of another experienced mom you trust.