Barefoot and pregnant in The Feminist Kitchen

This time, I have a perfect good excuse for the nearly two-month lapse in posting.

I started a new blog. (More on that in a second.)

Fear not, faithful readers of La Vie Dansante, who have been tracking my family's progress since I was pregnant with Julian. This blog was my very first foray into blogging and social media, which is now a significant part of my work life (Not to toot my own horn, but I just found out that I was named the top user of social media by a national association of features editors).

As my online (and much more public) life as a food writer has developed, I've spent the time I would have spent writing about the dancing life trying to consciously live the dancing life.

And now I find myself two months from having another baby and two months from having posted a single thing of record for the first one.

Family and kid blogs really are the modern day scrapbook, and I owe it to my own to keep this up, even if it's not as frequent as I'd like.

And as if I don't have enough balls to juggle, enter The Feminist Kitchen, an online project I started a few months ago.

It's a blog (bookmark it: thefeministkitchen.wordpress.com) that I post to about once a week on topics related to women and food. I've been fascinated with women's studies and feminism since before I was ready to identify myself as one, and connecting feminism and food is a natural extension of my personal and professional lives. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I do writing it. Please engage by leaving comments, sending me topic ideas or story links or, if you feel compelled, contributing an essay you feel moved to write. (E-mail me at broylesa AT gmail DOT com if you are interested in writing a guest post.)

Now, on to a little update about Julianito and all the changes in our lives.

The biggest change is this belly and the baby growing inside. He's already getting hand-me-downs (foremost, the name we almost gave Jules) and tons of love from his big brother, who gives my belly kisses and tickles and wants him to play pirate with him.

We couldn't ask for a better few months leading up to baby. It may be hot as hell, but it's my favorite time of year, there's water in the greenbelt, exciting things are happening at work, Ian and I are playing on the same team and we all have a great attitude about the new kid.

Like last time, I'm loving being pregnant. It's the most special, unique period of time because it's always changing and it comes to a definite end. This will be the last baby, so I'm trying to enjoy every kick and hiccup, every fawning comment about my glowing skin or cute belly. (I could do without the heartburn, but I really can't complain. Baby's healthy. I'm healthy. Not everyone is so fortunate.) I can't remember if I've written about this before, but I don't mind when people touch my belly. It's nice when they ask, but it's such a privilege and an honor to carry a child, it's the least I can do to share some of that glory with others.


Julian has been obsessed with what he calls "dangerous signs" for months now. When we go to the greenbelt, he has to stop and read all the signs about no camping or alcohol. If he sees a flash of yellow or red (especially that circle with a line through it) on a trash bin, a box or even on the visor of the car from his perch in the backseat, he wants to know what it says.

I'm so proud of us keeping up the Spanish with him. We have a ton of English books at home, so when we go to the library, we check out books in Spanish (the Bizchoco series is his favorite right now). When he pointed out Amelia Earhart on the cover of Night at the Museum II, he called her "Familia Earhart." He's excellent at understanding commands and will sit through cartoons in Spanish. We practice as much as we can on our frequent "adventures" in the city to the grocery store or the bibilioteca or the mercado de granjeros. He's my little amiguito adventuroso.

Julian went on his first field trip today to see "Toy Story 3" (we saw it when my parents were in town in early July — yes, I cried — but he enjoyed seeing it again) and last night, he ventured for the first time into the deep water at Barton Creek with the assistance of a small inner tube. (We hadn't been able to get him into water where he couldn't touch in any other flotation device or even with Ian or me.)

(Small detour here: A few weeks ago, on Father's Day to be specific, when we were swimming in on the Blanco River in Wimberley, I saved an older gentleman from going under. He was in distress and I was the only person within earshot who heard him call for help. The adrenaline kicked in, and I swam over to him, calling for additional help to a group of folks on the shore. I can't remember exactly if I pushed or pulled him to a place where we could both touch, but somehow we made it. By that time, several strapping fellows had hustled out to help get him up on the bank. Luckily, he didn't lose consciousness, but he was pretty close.)

Luckily, the pregnant lifeguard wasn't needed during subsequent trips to the San Marcos River (floating with Erin from Dallas) and the Gulf of Mexico (Port Aransas, on the Fourth of July, with my mom and dad and the boys). It's been a summer full of water, which makes this water baby very happy.

Here are some photos from our trip to my friend Loncito's ranch over Independence Day weekend:











YaYa will be coming down in September for the littlest's arrival, but that means we have just less than two months to enjoy what's left of life as a family of three. It's been a wonderful summer, which I'm sure will lead to a fantastic (not to mention eye-opening) fall.