Favorites for my ONE year old!

I think this has been the fastest slowest year ever. Charlie is turning ONE on Tuesday!

The thing I didn’t realize until I myself had a kid is how quickly they change and grow out of things. One year old Charlie is miles away from newborn Charlie. So with that, I wanted to share what she is into nowadays and some perfect one year old items for our babe.


Once Charlie started walking, everything changed. She wanted to use her little leggies as much as possible - and I get it. I liken it to when you first get your driver’s license - you want to drive everywhere. Her own two feet became her preferred method of transportation, which meant she despised the stroller. After a few weeks of no stroller rides (and mom going crazy) we finally discovered a solution. The SmarTrike. This convertible trike gives Charlie the feeling of being in control and allows her to move around as she pleases. She’s not able to put her feet on the pedals just yet but I know once she’s able to, it will be a whole new exciting phase.

Anyway, this thing is amazing. First - it’s adorable. We get compliments on it every single time we ride. We take a daily morning walk to Whole Foods and the cashiers go nuts about it. Second, it’s perfect for Florida - the sun cover blocks the sun without being too hot. Third, there’s tons of storage - a pouch for my phone/wallet/keys and a large removable bag for groceries, along with a bottom plastic compartment for even more stuff. I can bring back all of my groceries in this trike. And Charlie loves it because she is close to nature (she touches the plants as we walk) and can see all the dogs close up. It’s just more baby scale than being in a typical stroller. We love the SmarTrike!

Little Partners Learning Tower

As I’ve shared before, Charlie has never been a fan of highchairs. She cries when I try to buckle her in, squirms and tries to climb out, and just overall does not like to be contained. For a while, I would just feed her as she walked in circles around the kitchen, but it was exhausting, messy and just generally unsustainable. She also loves to be at counter height and see what I am cooking so the Little Partners Learning Tower ended up being the best thing ever.

We have the limited edition version with the side panels so that she is contained - but once Charlie is older, we can remove them she will be able to climb in and out on her own. This puppy also has a built-in chalkboard and clips for art projects. Charlie eats all of her meals in the tower and I also park her in it for food prep and any time I need her off the floor… like the time when I dropped the family size GT’s kombucha bottle on the floor and shattered glass went everywhere. Ugh.

Munchkin Weighted Straw Cup

Charlie loves to walk around with her sippy cup and also tips it upside down to drink out of it. Which means for 99.9% of the cups out there, the straw no longer gets any liquid in it. But this cup is amazing, the straw works at any angle. She can hold it any which way and sip out of it. I also put coconut and oat milk in it. Yum. The little snack cups included in this Munchkin snack kit are also the best!

Ball Pit

All of the times I brought my own bags to the grocery store and used my reusable water bottle in yoga went down the drain with Charlie’s new ball pit. Yes, It’s a ton of plastic. It’s also a ton of fun. Charlie loves her birthday gift (courtesy of her grandmother) and happily splashes around in here by herself. She also enjoys throwing balls out of the pit but also has mastered putting them back in. Balance. Some other perks - it’s much more hygienic than a communal ball pit… and you can customize the ball color! We found 400 balls was the right amount.


I love having a one year old! Everything is becoming more interesting and she is speaking more words and understanding more things - and blowing kisses and waving hello and goodbye! Happy Birthday Charlie, I love being your mom.


Charlie Chronicles: Solid food

Let's talk about food. How do you feel about dairy? Meat? Cheese? Food is a very personal thing.

And feeding your brand new perfect angel baby? The most personal.

For many people, like me, food is not only personal, it's also a passion. So when Charlie was just a little thing in my belly, I was already thinking of how I wanted her to experience it.

I had visions and aspirations of Charlie eating the same food we do. Healthy, organic whenever possible, plant-based, low in sugar. I also wanted her to enjoy eating and not feel pressured around food. I wasn't sure how this was going to play out but I knew it needed to be fun and light.


Breastfeeding came with challenges, so when it was time to start Charlie on solids, I wasn't sure how it was going to go. Around 4 months, I gave her some avocado and she LOVED it, but then, as it goes... I got fearmongered into thinking that she shouldn't do solids until she was 6 months. But homegirl kept reaching for my food and watching us eat, so just before 5 months, we seriously started Charlie on solids. 

She was a champ since day one, and I am SO grateful for that. We have had lots of challenges on our journey with our little love, but food has not been one of them. Charlie basically skipped over the puree section of being a baby and jumped right into true solids. She devours most of what we put in front of her - she was chowing down on smoked fish at 5 months old, loving rotisserie chicken at 6 months, snacking on shrimp shumai at 7 months and everything in between. Now at almost 10 months, I swear she eats almost as much as I do... 3 meals a day plus snacks. Plus milk! This girl loves to eat - today after her sizable lunch, she grabbed a cookie from my hand and ate it!

So how did we feed her? Our pediatrician is a fan of baby led weaning, which sounds like the opposite of what it actually is. In baby led weaning, your baby feeds themselves, without your intervention. You set up some finger foods and let them go to town. Warning, this gets really really messy. We started out with BLW and I quickly decided that cleaning oatmeal out of Charlie's ear wasn't something I wanted to do on the daily. 

People seem to feel like it's BLW or nothing, but for us, it made sense to do a mix of us feeding Charlie and her feeding herself. I try to make most of her food, we do lots of pancake and waffles, with hidden veggies, chia seeds, hemp, etc. She loves meatballs so I'll do ones with hidden veggies in a marinara sauce. She really likes the Mama Chia pouches, I've tried to make them myself but she doesn't like them as much as the brand name one. You win some, you lose some - right?

What I have found helpful for feeding is a baby mat or plate that sticks to the counter or table, bowls that also stick to the table, baby spoons, maybe one of the fancy feeding utensils, your fingers and a bib (shop all my favorites here!) And lots of paper towels! To be honest, Charlie is just wearing her diaper most of the time when she's eating, and we just wash off at the sink after - or if it's really bad - we'll take a dunk in the tub. She also ends up dropping or throwing food on the ground, so her eating zone always requires some sweeping and mopping up afterwards.


Also per our pediatrician, we exposed Charlie to all of the allergenic foods early, because the new science shows that reduces her risk of developing an allergy. Eggs, peanuts, milk, cheese, tree nuts... she sampled them all in her early months. We made sure that the nuts were in nut butter form to prevent choking. Thankfully, she did not have any reactions - and now she eats eggs with me almost every day.

There are foods that Charlie didn't take to the bat, but I read to keep introducing foods to your baby, because it can take up to 10 times for them to start to like it. Like bananas, weirdly. She wasn't into them, then she loved them and now she's lukewarm on them. But I'll keep including them in the mix. I also include veggies in things whenever possible, like carrots and spinach in pancakes and spirulina in oatmeal.

I also don't shy away from spices - my goal is to expose her to as many flavors as possible. I also add a little salt to her avocado and butter to her broccoli. My take is that I would rather her eat the veggies and enjoy them than have an early aversion to them because they don't taste good.

Watching Charlie experience food has been a huge joy - our schedules don't align for dinner time (she eats at 6pm) but she and I eat breakfast and lunch together and we live out the vision of our little family breaking bread when she joins us for weekend brunch and we all eat together at home - it brings such a smile to my face. Mike and I also offer Charlie a taste of everything that we are eating and drinking, which is how she became a kombucha fan at 5 months old. It's still her favorite drink (besides milk, of course) - she even likes the intense flavors like ginger and cayenne. She's such a funny kid!


The only hiccup in Charlie's feeding journey, if you can call it that, is that she really is not into her highchair. She lasts a few minutes but then cries to get out, so we purchased a learning tower that allows her to stand at counter height and it changed everything. She hates to be bucked in so this way, she can sit and stand as she pleases and now she will hang out at the counter watching me as a I prep and cook food - whereas before she would cry to be picked up so she could see everything.

It's super easy to overthink how and when you are feeding your baby - god knows I've overthought pretty much everything with this Charlie - but with eating solids, it has been a really fun, messy and joyful experience that we have all shared together. 


Charlie Chronicles: Sleep like a baby

When Mike and I went to the birth classes that were required by my birth center before Charlie came along, we listened intently to the parenting tips they delivered, because they felt like they came from a conscious place and aligned with our values. They advised co-sleeping, with the baby in between the mom and the wall - with the logic that it would allow the baby to breastfeed demand, it would let mom get more sleep since she didn't have to shuffle to the baby's room and they swore mom could never roll on top of the baby. As we walked out to the car after class, Mike and I decided we were both on the same page with it.

"This all sounds reasonable, we can co-sleep with her for the first few months and then move her into the crib."

So cut and dried, right? We felt like we had it figured out. I dreamed about her little body snuggling up next to me in bed, her angelic face near my chest.

And after Charlie arrived, on our first night home from the hospital, I realized co-sleeping was not going to work for us.

As I've alluded to in previous posts, Charlie was pretty fussy in those early months. Her favorite pastime was crying and she had zero interest in being snuggled or rocked to sleep. We tried all the S's from the Happiest Baby on the Block book and she fought every one of them, tooth and nail. Add in that she is incredibly strong, so swaddling her was an epic undertaking. It often took both me and Mike, one of us to hold her arms down, one to wrap the swaddle - as she screamed and flailed and kicked the whole time. It sucked, royally, but she couldn't sleep without it. The few nights she spent in bed with us were unhappy on both party's end. Charlie had (and very much still has) her own agenda, and co-sleeping was not on it. My vision of us spooning blissfully ended up being a reality of Charlie sleeping in her own room from her first week of life on - and it was better for her and better for us. 


That still didn't make for her being a great sleeper though. I loathed swaddling her so much that I opted not to do it for naps - a big mistake, because she ended up not sleeping or waking up quickly from the Moro reflex. My own naivete' didn't help - I didn't know just how much newborns needed to sleep in the beginning, so when she woke up in the morning, I thought she could stay up a few hours and was perplexed when she was in sobbing, screaming breakdown mode 45 minutes later. She also refused to nap in the stroller or carseat and just screamed harder, which only led to more tears on my end too. After a month of meltdowns (including an epically terrible one at her one month pediatrician's appointment, when Mike was conveniently out of town), I felt totally helpless. Like a failure. And that was when I started asking for help. My mom lovingly bought us a Snoo. My friend Rachel, who had a one year old of her own, recommended following Babywise. Mike's family swore by scheduled feedings. 

So I got into action and tried to corral Charlie into something of a eating and sleeping routine. At first it was like herding kittens (a very upset kitten at that), but eventually we settled into an every 3 hour feeding cycle, where she fed ideally right waking up after a nap. Babywise recommended 1.5 hour naps for her age at the time but Charlie never willingly settled into that pattern and I was pulling my hair out trying to get her to sleep that long, so eventually I just gave up and let her natural sleep patterns happen. From around two months on, her naps were short and erratic. She was not connecting sleep cycles so most naps were something like 31 minutes long exactly, even with the Snoo (which is awesome btw). Most of our days were spent at home, trying to keep us on a somewhat of a schedule, which I logged like a maniac to see if there was any kind of pattern that emerged. There wasn't. However, because she was at least getting some naptime in, Charlie was better rested and getting a little happier. Which made for a more sane, loving and productive Amy. But bedtime was still this hour-long stressful rigamarole of swaddle, bouncing, pacifier, baby voodoo - all to get her to go to sleep - sometimes just to have her wake up 30 minutes later. Charlie didn't enjoy it (read: screamed her little lungs out) and it wasn't exactly marital bliss either.

It all came to a head when the 4 month sleep regression hit, conveniently when we were vacationing in Key West. After basically wrestling her to sleep, she was up every two hours for three nights straight, crying like a maniac. Rocking, bouncing, soothing made it worse. Feeding didn't get her to go back down. We were banging our heads against the wall and exhausted. On the fourth night, we made the call. It was time.  

Sleep training.

Warning - this is a very hot button topic, so if you're not onboard, you might want to stop reading. But if your kid is like ours and you want your nights back, your relationship back, and/or your child to sleep independently, let's carry on.

Sleep training is often dubbed "cry it out" because your child essentially cries themselves to sleep as a means for them to learn how to fall asleep on their own. When I was pregnant, I thought I would be totally on board with doing this, no sweat. Then Charlie showed up... and it all changed. As a parent, you don't want your precious-perfect-lightbeing-angel-baby to cry if you can help it - and this is basically making her cry! For long stretches! Mike and I were both a little hesitant at first. On an earlier tough night, we dabbled with sleep training when Charlie was around 3.5 months old, using the Ferber method of checking in at set times. At first 3 minutes, then 5 minutes after that and so on... It works for some babies, but for Charlie, it only made her more angry (read: screaming furiously) so we scrapped that after one night.

After devouring a zillion sleep blogs and sites,I read Precious Little Sleep, the best sleep book ever, and joined their amazing facebook group. And in all my learning, I knew we needed to do the extinction method with Charlie. Almost as scary as it sounds. You put them to bed and leave them. And let whatever happens in there, happen. But as strong willed as our little bug is, I knew that we needed to pull out the big guns and just go cold turkey. I couldn't take one more night of rocking and praying for the stars to align for her to sleep. We needed some consistency and ease in our life.

On the Monday after the Key West shitshow, we put Charlie to bed, made sure she was safe, turned off the light, turned on the white noise, left the room and said a prayer. Once she started crying, I immediately wanted to go in and comfort her, but experience had showed me that only made it worse for her. So we sat on the balcony and had dinner, with the volume down on the monitor because I couldn't bear to listen to her scream but I still wanted to make sure she was ok, so I watched the sound bars just rise and fall as she cried her little heart out. After dinner, we came inside and she was still going strong, so Mike took a shower and I tried to listen to a podcast - but I could still hear her wailing away through my earbuds. For a while, I slumped outside her door and wanted to go in sooo badly but I knew that wouldn't help, and only force her to cry for longer stretches the next night. It was heartbreaking and one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I even turned the AC down and put a little fan in her room so she wouldn't overheat from all the screaming. Like Mike reminded me, sometimes doing nothing is the hardest thing. But eventually... eventually, she gave up and fell asleep on her own. TWO HOURS later. Her poor little exhausted body. I finally exhaled the breath that I didn't even realize I had been holding. 

Charlie at 5 months ❤️

Charlie at 5 months ❤️

The next night she cried for 45 minutes, the next night 15, the night after 5 minutes... and so on. Now it's a rare day when she cries at all when we put her down for bed. She also dropped the swaddle and pacifier during the cry-it-out sessions. Now, almost two months later, I thank my lucky stars that we held strong and did it. Granted, it's not always perfect, and yes, there are still some night wake-ups and feedings but the process of bedtime is a joy. Nap time is much easier too, putting her down is a breeze and her naps are nice chunky blocks of time, not the 31 minute crap naps. At night, we do our evening routine of bath, boob and bed and she's pretty much out cold. 

Having Charlie learn independent sleep gave us hours of our life back, lowered our stress level and made her a more well-rested kid. She is SO much happier and I was too - we weren't stuck in the house and isolated for naps anymore. Now she can sleep in the carseat, the stroller, Mike's chest... hell, she will even will fall asleep on the floor.

Yes, sleep training is an extremely personal choice - and there are a whole bunch of ways to go about it, and this was the right one for us.


Charlie Chronicles: Dr. Google

There are some people who do their best writing at night. Like Winston Churchill, who wrote most of his work from his bed. Along with Proust and Mark Twain.

I, however, am not. 

But here I am at 8pm, and this is what I'm working with, because I am also the mother of the most delicious and hilarious five month old baby. And my daytime is currently devoted to feeding, diapering and wiping various bits of regurgitated food off said delicious baby. And googling.

What's that you say? Googling?

Yes. No one told me that new parenthood was also the most research intensive experience of your life.

"Green newborn poop"

"Breaks out of swaddle"

"Hates stroller"

"Baby only turns head to the left"

Just a sampling of the thousand or so real-life searches that I have run over the past few months. Not to mention the billion other queries I did regarding sleep patterns and breastfeeding. What's so amazing is that there are hundreds of moms out there actually answering these questions on multiple blogs, forums and websites! Like seriously, when do they have time for this shit?!?

But I am so grateful to those moms because they have saved me a thousand times over when I had no clue what I was doing. Our first month was really a pretty big mess of colicky crying, late nights and aforementioned google searches. Side bar - speaking of late nights, I talked about Charlie's sensitive belly and food issues in my previous post and I can't believe I left out a key element... the fact that I DIDN'T HAVE COFFEE OR CHOCOLATE FOR THREE MONTHS.

But I survived - and so did she.

As one of Mike's colleague put it... these little babies are "parent proof."

Anyhou, back to the googling. Having a baby has an incredibly quick learning curve, and I am a huge information consumer - so there were a zillion things that I needed to research, and fast. Like was green newborn poop okay? No, it wasn't. That signaled her dairy allergy. How about breaking out of the swaddle? Yes, normal. But not ideal because then she couldn't sleep because of the adorably annoying moro reflex. The stroller hating bit? Well, we just resorted to carrying her in a baby carrier for months - she still prefers it, and so do we. Heart to heart is pretty much the best thing ever. And she eventually turned her head to the right as well.

I also zoomed through no less than ten baby books in that first month too, ranging in topic from breast feeding nutrition to sleeping through the night.

And what did I learn from all of this research? A LOT. And it eased my mind to have the information. But was it necessary? Probably not. Because at the heart of it all, the crux of every book, every blog post - is that every baby is different. I learned that in order to truly be in sync with this little being, my little being, all I needed to do was simply be present with her. To learn her cues, her patterns, her signals. And for us, once I started being able to read her and understand her, everything else clicked into place. She is extremely vocal on what she wants and needs, I just needed to give her the opportunity to share it with me. So now I listen more than I read.

I honor more than I push.

Don't get me wrong... for me, obsessively researching actually helped to calm my brain. That's just how I am wired. And I know it will be an ongoing cycle of reading and responding as she gets older and more questions arise. But for now, I am watching - and learning - every day. 


Charlie Chronicles: Real Life with Baby

Now that the dust has settled (well, let's be honest - as a mom, does it ever fully settle?) and Charlie and I have had some time to find our groove together, I finally have the space to write a little. I can't believe it's been almost five months since Mike and I received the most amazing, perfect gift we have ever gotten. It has not been easy though. Starting with her arrival, Charlie's life on this planet has been a lesson in total surrender and she has continued to teach me surrender every day since.

It's easy to share the highlights but I've been wanting to write about the challenges because I know these were what helped me during the hard times with Charlie. So let's start it from the top.

When I was pregnant, I had visions of leisurely walks to get coffee, while newborn Charlie chilled in the stroller. I had visions of bringing her along for lunch with friends and walking around the grocery store like I saw tons of other moms doing... but that was not to be, at least not yet.

From day two in the hospital, I knew something was up with her. She was crying... a lot. Like a lot, a lot. Actually scratch that, she was screaming. They would wheel her from the nursery to our hospital room and I would hear her from halfway down the hall. And she had lungs from the beginning! Her face would scrunch up and her hands would clenched in little fists that were impossible to open up. Her back would arch, and she had painful gas. She had trouble sleeping because she was so uncomfortable. Breastfeeding was, in a word, challenging.

Amazing and perfect and our little angel, she was. Chill and comfortable, she was not.


Was it colic? My mom quickly let me know I had colic for six months.

Six months.

"Karma," they said. Awesome. I was not into six months of screaming, miserable Charlie. It hurt me deeply to see her hurting. And what is colic anyway? I saw glimpses at moments and knew there was a happy, smiley kid in there.

So I immediately went to work figuring out what was wrong with my precious one. The first clues were her body signals. As I furiously googled, I learned that she was showing signs of a food sensitivity - which, since we were breastfeeding, was caused by something in my diet.

Because you're ravenous all the time when you first start breastfeeding, I had been eating like crazy in the hospital, really whatever I wanted. I was having coffee with milk and chocolate chip cookies. Scrambled eggs. Peanut butter. I had a delicious burger dripping with grease and cheese.

But everything I read said that dairy was the first thing that had to go. I knew this was a big one because she was having green poop (baby poop is so normal for new moms to talk about fyi) right after I ate anything with dairy in it. So I cut it cold turkey, on day three of Charlie being on this planet. But that didn't get rid of all the symptoms, she was still unhappy and uncomfortable.

Not that there is anything wrong with formula, but if I could breastfeed, I was going to. And I could. Even though it was a struggle many, many days - too much milk, too little milk, fast letdown, shallow latch... we persevered. 

As my sleuthing continued and the weeks went on, I noticed she showed a reaction when I ate eggs as well.

And nuts.

And beans.

And peanuts.

As I deleted more foods from my diet, she felt better and better. It also ended up being the best postpartum weightless strategy ever, since in editing my diet, I cut out the large majority of my comfort foods. Goodbye white cheddar cheese popcorn, my first true love. But it was also great for me personally, because I felt so much better with those things out of my system. My digestion cleared up and even though I was up at night with a newborn, I had lots of energy.

With help from our pediatrician, we simultaneously started Charlie on probiotics. We layered on enzymes to aid her digestion. Things started to chill out. But finally we added in the most magical drug of all...


As the months went on, her digestive tract matured, she developed and the truly happy kid started to emerge. 

At around 3.5 months, everything started to turn around. She started to get into a rhythm. We got her on a little schedule. I started being able to reintroduce problematic foods to my diet. She is fairly predictable and I can truly know when something is wrong instead of her just screaming all day long. Now I can take her to coffee, or to Target without fear of a meltdown. And she loves to go to our favorite place, Whole Foods, thank the heavens. She lives for seeing all the people and the doggies.

She just needed the time, space and love to develop into herself.

Funny, it seems like the recipe for growth is the same at any age.


Charlie Pauline Dannheim

It was a completely mundane Saturday night. I was standing at the stovetop, making quesadillas for a late dinner after a long day of running around. All of a sudden, I felt a pop and water gushed down my legs. I ran over to Mike and with a shocked smile, said to him, "I think my water just broke."

For context, let me backtrack a little bit. I was "due" on Thursday, September 28th, 2017. On that day, Mike and I went in for a visit at Hollywood Birth Center, which had been caring for me throughout my whole pregnancy. I had chosen to work with a birth center over a hospital for a number of reasons - I don't like hospitals, I wanted a more holistic approach, my goal was for an unmedicated vaginal delivery, the list goes on. The only hiccup is that birth centers can't care for you after 42 weeks, they have to pass you along to the hospital. So my midwives started to get slightly concerned when at 40 weeks, I wasn't showing any signs of progress. I wasn't dilated and my cervix wasn't very soft. They gave me a bottle of herbs (blue and black cohosh) and instructions to start pumping using my breast pump to stimulate oxytocin in my body. They also recommended evening primrose oil and lots of walking.

"Great, I can do that", I said.

After my due date came and went, each day afterwards felt like it lasted an eternity. At one week overdue, we headed back in for another appointment. This time was for a biophysical ultrasound and NST or non-stress test. This was to check on the baby to see how she was doing  in there - they assessed her amniotic fluid levels and how well she was handling my Braxton Hicks contractions. Everything looked good and we were sent home with a clean bill of health for the baby. But still no signs of labor.

On Saturday, October 7th - nine days past my due date - we went in to see the midwife again. And again, not a lot of progress. Even after a week of herbs, breast pumping and daily walks, I wasn't opening up. My cervix was starting to thin, but I was only 1 cm dilated. She recommended moving thing along by doing a membrane sweep - which feels about as sexy as it sounds. They essentially use a finger to break up the membranes that hold the amniotic sac to the uterine wall. In short, since I wasn't dilated, it was brutal. She checked the baby's vitals and everything looked good. She sent me home with instructions to do more herbs, pump and walk and see how my body responded to the membrane sweep. Mike and I got lunch at the Hollywood Farmer's Market and took an evening walk on the beach. Afterwards, we hit up lululemon and Whole Foods and went home to make dinner. And so there I was, standing in the kitchen when I felt the warm rush of amniotic fluid running down my leg.

I immediately texted my midwife and my mom. "It's happening!" I thought to myself, not really sure what was expected to happen next. Mike took over making dinner while I changed my clothes and we settled in to watch Game of Thrones - our late pregnancy addiction. My midwife advised me to get rest if I could, so we went to bed that night and in the back of my head I kept wondering when my contractions would start.

I had some trouble sleeping but woke up at 7:30am the next day to a text from Mimi, my midwife, asking "how are you doing?" I gave her a call to let her know I hadn't had any contractions and was able to get some sleep. She was perplexed. Because my water had already been broken 9 hours at this point, she advised me to eat a big breakfast and take two tablespoons of castor oil to see if that would jumpstart things (it irritates the digestive tract which can often trigger labor). I blended the castor oil into a smoothie and waited. Nada. No contractions. Meanwhile, Mimi also arranged a labor inducing massage for me which used aromatherapy and trigger points. At 11am, the therapist arrived and halfway through the massage, I started getting contractions. But when she wasn't hitting the trigger points, they subsided. After the massage, she recommended I lay in bed with Mike, as the closeness between a couple also can trigger oxytocin and contractions. It worked. We snuggled for an hour, timing my contractions, which were strong and painful... and finally working into a rhythm. We called Mimi and we all agreed to meet at the birth center at 3pm. The only problem was that once I stopped cuddling with Mike, my contractions stopped. 

Once we arrived at the center, Mimi checked me and let me know I was still only 1 centimeter dilated. It was a frustrating revelation, as I knew I had to get to 10 cm for a vaginal delivery and it meant the painful contractions earlier weren't doing anything. She also started me on an IV of antibiotics since my water had been broken for 16 hours at this point and the risk of infection was rising with each passing hour. At the birth center, we tried all kinds of things, breast pumping, laying with Mike, walking and even though the contractions were incredibly hard on me, still - no progress with dilation. I was hurting so much that I went into the birth tub for relief. But despite the pain, my body wasn't responding. At 8:30pm we knew it was time to make a decision. My body wasn't making progress with contractions and even though the baby's vitals were fine, we were losing time. We needed to transfer to the hospital.

Mike and I got in the car and drove with Mimi to the hospital. After we did our paperwork, they stuck me in a wheelchair and wheeled me up to our labor and delivery room. The OB/GYN came in, who we had met at a previous appointment because he works directly with the birth center, and we had all hit it off there, so I felt comfortable with him. As we explained our predicament - water had been broken 24 hours at this point and I was only dilated to 2 centimeters - he asked "ok, so what are we gonna do here?"

"I'd really like to try for a vaginal delivery," I told him.

So he ordered a bag of pitocin and we started the hospital labor journey. Our nurse, Flavia, was a total godsend - keeping me calm and collected even though we were in the hospital - the last place we wanted to be. I had thought about it on the ride over and remembered what many moms had told me before... don't try to be a hero, so let them know that I wanted an epidural, especially since I was going to be laboring on pitocin - it's like contractions on steroids. They wanted me to dilate to 6 cm before they issued the epidural, so we settled in for the wait. At 1am, I got hooked up to the IV of antibiotics and pitocin and gradually my contractions started to get more intense. By 4am, I was in some pretty serious pain and was only dilated to a 4. Mike was lying in the hospital bed with me at this point, holding me through the contractions. Having contractions on pitocin without an epidural was hands down the single most painful experience of my life. The pain was so severe that by 6am, I was on the floor, sobbing and crawling on hands and knees in pain. When a contraction hit, I would curl into childs pose and cry. It was terrible. They came into do another internal check to see if I had made it to 6 cm and I was in such searing pain, I couldn't even fathom the thought of having an exam. "I need the epidural!" I kept shrieking, "I can't do it anymore". They paged the anesthesiologist and finally she arrived, at the moment when I seriously was contemplating if life was worth living. I was in a dark, dark place. I was having such severe contractions that I could barely hold still for her to administer the epidural. I hunched forward, tears pouring down my face and then... bliss.

I'd never been so relieved. It was like the gates of heaven opened. The change was instantaneous. I could finally relax my body, and hopefully the stress reduction would let my uterus do it's thing and continue to dilate. They had asked Mike to leave for the epidural (not sure why) and when he came back in, I was a new person. And I felt like that too. I wouldn't wish the pain from my pitocin contractions on anyone. On the epidural, I was numb from the waist down and couldn't move my legs anymore so Mike and I hung out in the room, napped a little - and even watched an episode of Game of Thrones. Everything seemed to be going fine - the baby's heartbeat sounded great and I was still contracting, just without being able to feel the pain. The nurse came in around 2pm to checked my dilation and said "You're good." "I made it to 10 cm?!" I asked. "Yes, and 100% effaced. We're going to get you set up to start pushing. But first we need the baby's head to move down more so we're going to turn you on your side." 

I was so excited. I started thanking them for letting me take the time to labor on pitocin to get to fully dilated. Mike and I turned to each other, "we're going to meet our baby soon!" I couldn't wait.

After resting on my side for a while, a group of nurses came back in to get me set up to push. The OB/GYN on call came in as well, since my preferred OB had already left at that point. I gave the first push, and they noticed the baby's heart rate dropped as I was pushing, but went back up once I stopped. They re-evaulated my position and had me push a second time. And on the second push, the baby's heart rate dropped again. Only this time, it stayed low after I pushed. They gave me one more chance to push - and this time the baby's heart rate dropped to the lowest it had been. All eyes turned to the heart rate monitor next to my bed. The heart rate stayed low. Scary low. Normally a baby's heartbeat sounds like a fast horse gallop. This was like a slow drip of water. Thump. Thump. Thump. The tension in the room was palpable. The OB/GYN turned to the nurses. "Prep the operating room NOW. We have to do an emergency c-section." 

Everyone got into action. In a matter of seconds, they unplugged me from all the machines and started wheeling me towards the OR. In the process, they broke the top of my IV line. They rushed me into the OR and took Mike away so he could get scrubs. Because I was no longer hooked up to the heart rate monitor, I couldn't hear my baby's heartbeat anymore. I had no idea if she was still alive in there. All I could do was go deep inside and pray.

Once in the OR, they immediate started prepping me for surgery. They put up the curtain so I couldn't see what was going on. It was such a blur for me. The anesthesiologist and doctor were talking, saying how they couldn't give me any anesthesia because my IV line was broken. The anesthesiologist turned to me and said "we're going to have to put you under." I screamed out, "no fucking way! I am not going to miss this!" There was no way my child was coming into the world without me being present for it. But they had to make moves, so they started cutting me open using just the epidural, since I was still pretty numb from it - even though it was 8 hours after it had been administered. Everything was frantic. Was she alive? Where was Mike? I started screaming. "Where is my husband?! WHERE IS MIKE?!?" and a few seconds later, I heard it. The happiest sound on earth.

A baby's cry. My baby's cry.

Tears of fear and pain turned to joy. Mike yelled over to me, "I'm here, I'm with her!" 

Once they pulled her out, Mike was allowed into the room - and the first thing he saw was my stomach cut open with insides laying on my belly. He looked away before he could pass out and a nurse grabbed him, ripped his scrubs open and then put the baby inside his shirt for skin-to-skin contact on his chest. Meanwhile on my end, the epidural was wearing off. As they stitched me up, I was able to register the intense pain. "Ow!" I yelled, "I can feel that!" They scrambled around and gave me a shot and somehow managed to make it bearable again.

Mike came over to me with the baby inside his shirt. We were both sobbing as I saw her for the first time. "She's perfect, she's just so perfect," I said between tears. Another nurse helped to lay the baby on my chest so that we could get skin-to-skin. For the first time, I felt my daughter on the outside instead of the inside. I never wanted that moment to end. It was everything dreams are made of.

They finished stitching me up and wheeled me off to triage for recovery and sent the baby to the nursery to be checked. In triage, they gave me more pitocin, more antibiotics (my water had been broken 42 hours by this point) and another drug to start contracting my uterus that made me shake uncontrollably. I was so drugged and so exhausted that I felt like a shell of myself.

Since we hadn't expected to be in the hospital, and the past 24 hours had been traumatic, Mike headed home to shower and regroup before our long hospital stay. A few hours later, they brought me up from triage into our maternity suite and moments after that, they wheeled our precious baby into the room. I was able to register her whole body, her perfect little face, her ten fingers and toes and rosebud lips. Later on, we found out that the umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck and there was meconium in the amniotic fluid - a sign that the baby was in distress. Her birth was not at all how I planned or wanted it to go, but it was exactly how it needed to happen. And I am so grateful for everyone who helped to bring Charlie Pauline Dannheim into this world. I couldn't imagine my life without her and I'm completely obsessed with this little being. Despite the stress, the chaos, the exhaustion, we received the most incredible gift and miracle. And it's probably the hormones, but I love her so much, it makes me cry to think about it. I love you, Charlie, and I'm so happy you're here.


Building a baby: pregnancy nutrition

As I sit here at 41 weeks + 1 day waiting on this baby, I really have no excuse for not writing, even though in my head I keep hearing "but haven't written a blog post in foreverrr." But I'm telling the brain to shut up and letting the fingers take over. 

I've gotten a bunch of questions about pregnancy nutrition, what I ate during pregnancy and how I stayed in shape. The experience of being pregnant (and each pregnancy) is so different for every woman, but I'll share what worked for me in case it maybe resonates for you. I feel like it's easiest to break this down into trimesters because, for me, they each had a different personality. And because I know I'd be curious... in total, I gained 30 lbs during my pregnancy. 

amy&mike_maternity_august 29, 2017a06a7749.jpg

1st Trimester: I conceived in early January and spent most of the early spring just trying not to vomit. I had all day nausea and couldn't even bear to think about cooking or making a meal. Just walking into the grocery store made me want to pass out. I was exhausted and had to take an afternoon nap most days. Posting on instagram and answering emails felt like the most daunting task in the universe. AND NO ONE KNOWS YOU'RE PREGNANT so you just feel like a blob. This was definitely not my most nutritionally dense trimester. I struggled to eat anything besides oatmeal and stevia sweetened ginger ale. Even my beloved coffee grossed me out. Although I normally like everything hot or room temp, I was really into cold drinks during those months. At the advice of my midwife that I needed to get protein in my system, I managed to get into a routine of basic smoothies made with non-dairy milks like Ripple, ice, a scoop of vanilla pea-protein powder (I like Love & Peas) and a half of a frozen banana, and I would add in some simple greens like spinach if I could stomach them. I also did bone broths and chicken soup... when I wasn't having Ezekiel Bread toast for dinner. Since I normally make meals for us, Mike swears this is where he "got pregnant" because I wasn't cooking and he would just eat pizza for dinner. Sooo FYI if you're in this boat - a meal delivery service might be a good move to keep your man healthy, I'm definitely planning on it if we go through this again. Overall, I was just trying to keep my head above water this trimester. I took my prenatal vitamins at night so they didn't upset my stomach. I was honestly too exhausted to do much of anything, so I felt good about myself if I were able to go for a walk or get through a basic yoga class. I didn't gain much weight during the first tri, maybe 4-5 pounds. Everyone said after 12 weeks, the nausea would magically disappear. For me, it took until around week 14-15 to taper off, but then all of a sudden - it did go away and I felt like I was reborn.

2nd Trimester: This is where I finally started wanting to eat (and grocery shop) again, but it was really important to me that I made up for the nutritional deficiencies of the first trimester. If left to my own devices, I would have just consumed my weight in white cheddar cheese popcorn. I tried my best to cook at home as much as possible with nutrient-dense veggies and lean proteins. I used lots of eggs, plant based-proteins like beans and lentils, peanut butter and salads with dark leafy greens. I also didn't skimp on fat, I was big on using avocado oil and grass-fed butter to cook with. One of my easiest go-to dinners was stir-fried cauliflower rice with scrambled eggs and baby bok choy. I also snacked on cucumber slices and concocted lots of zucchini and sweet potato combinations for dinner. But don’t think I didn’t make the occasional trip to Shake Shack when I was dying for a burger... although I would get it in a lettuce wrap. We went on our babymoon to Italy during these months so there was a week of serious pizza and gelato bingeing. But on the flip side, I felt much more energetic, so I was able to walk, ride my bike and go to yoga and pilates almost daily. I tried to drink plenty of water and I consumed loads of fermented stuff - kombucha (I like GT's and Health-Ade), homemade fermented veggies, yogurt and probiotics. They all great for gut health, especially since your digestion slows during pregnancy. Some of the things I felt strong cravings for during this trimester were grass-fed beef and cheese, glorious cheese - heartier things that I don't frequently eat but obviously my body wanted. I felt the strongest and hungriest during this trimester but I balanced it by working out a lot more. It wasn't uncommon for me to do pilates and yoga, take a walk and teach a few classes. One of my main concerns as my belly was growing quickly was preventing diastsis recti, the separation of the stomach muscles, so I stopped doing planks, crunches and any yoga poses that put outward pressure on my abdomen. I gained the most weight during these months, probably 15 pounds, and my belly showed up around the 6 month mark... and kept growing!


3rd Trimester: This is where they say to pack on the protein as the baby is developing their brain and other important bodily functions. But for me, I wanted sweeter things more than ever this trimester. And even though my belly got bigger, my appetite slowed down during these months because a) the baby was sitting high up in my ribs and squishing my stomach so I was supremely uncomfortable and b) i got painful nighttime reflux for a few weeks, which made it hard to eat much of anything for dinner. I tried to combat this with more protein in the morning - mixing protein powder and hemp into oatmeal, eating eggs, and protein smoothies. I also went through a phase where I was making black bean protein brownies, which were delicious. I tried to make protein a focus for most meals, along with greens and fiber-rich veggies to support my slowing digestion. Because I still wanted sugar a lot, I kept a stash of frozen grapes in the freezer for my sweet cravings, or if I was really dying for ice cream, I'd make banana nice cream with peanut butter or raw cacao using my Vitamix. Hydration was key too because I was getting really swollen with the combination of the heat of a Miami summer and being in a hot yoga studio all the time. I was drinking lots of water, kombucha and went heavy on both hot and iced teas this trimester - red raspberry leaf tea for uterine support along with both dandelion and hibiscus tea for my swollen legs. My energy ebbed and flowed during the third tri - I would nap and sleep in more, but I was able to go to yoga at least 5 times/week along with regular short walks. I was still teaching but my personal yoga practice was heavily modified at this point by using blocks and props and skipping vinyasas (doing cat/cow instead) but it still kept me active. I gained about 10 pounds this trimester.

Amy&Mike_Maternity_August 29-3.jpg

Overall, this whole thing been a rollercoaster and a learning experience and an amazing chance to listen to my body, slow down and reconnect. I've napped more than I ever have in my whole life, I I've taken it easy and given myself permission to rest. It's been one of the biggest journeys of my life - one of patience, self-care, compassion and tons of love. Xox



When we visit Bali, we stay at our friend Rob's villa, which is located on the main road in town. On the other side of the road from Rob, there is a local Balinese man named Madé, who is quite up to date on the ways of the world.

Having gotten to know Madé over the last few years, we have become friends. He has a small tour guide agency and he rents us our scooters. Each time we would visit, he would invariably ask in his Balinese accent, "so when are you moving here?" 

This past summer, Mike laughingly responded, "if Trump wins, we'll move."

We got an email yesterday from Rob. Madé was asking when we were moving.


If you talked to me last week, I would have said Hillary was going to win by a landslide. I mean, my entire newsfeed was #withher.

I didn't even think to watch the election results since it all seemed so cut and dried. I was confused why Madonna and Jay Z were even doing these free concerts. Wasn't everyone voting for her anyway?

After the election, I hesitated on writing something because I feel like everyone had aired their opinion, but then I reflected. Me not writing would be the same as me not voting. If I'm going to live in America, I am going to take advantage of it's liberties.

Last week was a mess for the yoga community. People crying on their mats. Hugging each other. The stages of grief were palpable. And more importantly, it was revealing that our kombucha drinking, sage burning way of life is not a reflection of the collective reality. 

That doesn't mean we as yoga practitioners need to pack up and move to Bali. Which we aren't doing, by the way. If we are truly living our yoga practice, it is the acceptance of the here and now. 

Instead of holding on to belief systems and ideals, we must open our eyes and our hearts to the current reality. We ask ourselves, in this current state, how can I be of service? How can I be open to understanding, even when I don't agree with it? We find the flexibility of our minds correlates to the flexibility of our bodies. When we hold on tightly to how we believe things should be, we become stiff. Inside and out. When close our eyes and fight the current situation, we remove ourselves from being of service. When we cling to the past, we never experience the present. The more we believe our way is the only way, the more we shut down and the more we shut off. 

We don't have to agree on every issue, but I think there is one thing we can come together on, and that is being open and aware. Because beneath this flesh and bone, beneath these opinions and judgements and programming, we all still have a heart.

The highest result of education is tolerance
— Helen Keller


It all started with breathing.

For the past few months, Mike had been attending a crazy-sounding Effiji breathing class. He would rave about it, how they laid down on their backs and breathed in a special way just in and out through their mouths for an hour, basically hyperventilating. He would come home high as a kite and tell me how much he learned about himself each time. How he saw visions. How he loved it.

So eventually, one Monday night last month, I tagged along. "Do I need to bring a mat? A blanket?" I asked, "A pillow?"

I like to be prepared. Ready for whichever one of the dozen bizarre situations might arise. Like what if I freeze to death while breathing. "What about socks? A hoodie? I should bring a hoodie." 

"Jesus, come on, you'll be fine." Mike said, "Just come."

We hopped on the scooter and rolled up to the class, which took place in a a very zen community room inside of a beautiful condo building that I hadn't been to before. People were rolling around on yoga mats and a stack of blankets were piled high in a basket for people to use. I mentally checked freezing to death off the list. I was instructed to read and sign a waiver... a waiver to breathe.

I went with it.

The nice instructor Nathalie had us all set up mats in a long row and lay on our backs. She led us through a few practice rounds of Effiji breath for those of us first-timers. We opened our mouths wide - much wider than normal and took some super deep inhales and exhales. It was not a walk in the park. "I'm supposed to do this for an hour straight?" I asked myself. And myself responded, "You're a fucking yoga instructor, Amy, I think you can breathe for an hour."

I went with it some more.

Nathalie turned the lights down, put some soothing music on and we began. The first few minutes were fine, just getting into the rhythm of breathing... and then things started to get more interesting.

The way this breath works, Nathalie explained, is that it's like a river flowing into a dry river bed. All of the water comes in and stirs up and sweeps out the debris, so channels get cleared and old feelings get awakened. About fifteen minutes in, I started to feel a tingly sensation in my hands and feet, which she said is common. Then things in my body started to unravel. I started having spontaneous movements. Something in my belly got really stirred up and it felt like that scene from Space Balls where the alien is bursting out of the dude's stomach. I was uncomfortable. Then all of a sudden, I was laughing, hard. Things released. And then it felt like I wanted to cry and curl up in a little ball and then, in a moment, it was done.

An hour had passed. 

We were quietly instructed to go back to normal breathing and rest for a while, to let our bodies reintegrate. I rolled over on to my side and went into a state somewhere between sleep and wake. As I rested in that sleep, a message came to me...

It doesn't need to be so complicated, Amy. 

In that moment, it was so perfectly clear. It doesn't need to be so complicated. This belief is the crux of many of my life choices. My motto might as well be why do simple when I can do complicated. Why wear the same outfit again when I can spend an hour creating a new one? Why teach the same yoga class again when I can stress myself out always trying to keep it fresh? Why simply drive when I can ride my bike?

Why take the easy route when I can make it super duper complicated?

The message hung in the air over my head, floating, until we were told we could slowly sit up and rejoin reality. As I opened my eyes in the dim light, it felt like I was somewhere other than Miami. Things felt different. I felt lighter. There was a piping hot cup of mint tea waiting for me at the top of my mat. I curled up with it and let the truth of that message sink into my body.

It can be simple, and that can be perfect

photo by matt roy // mattroyphotography.com

photo by matt roy // mattroyphotography.com



A week ago, I was in a beachfront palapa in Tarara alongside Eduardo Pimentel, the godfather of Cuban yoga. "Thank you for coming here to Cuba," he said with a big smile to our group of American yoga practicioners. "You are brave and you coming here teaches me. I learn from you as much as you hopefully will learn from me."

educardo pimentel

He taught us an Iyengar inspired practice and made jokes as he quickly won over our group. We learned, we laughed, we loved. We connected. There was so much to love in Cuba. There is so much to love in Cuba. Over the six days we were there, we danced on rooftops, shared cigars with locals, rolled around in antique convertibles listening to Justin Bieber (true story), drank tons of cafecitos, explored back alleys of Havana, learned how to salsa dance, ate delicious food and fell hard for the immense beauty and personality of the island.

So how'd this all happen? 

I grew up to a family of wanderlusters - my mom and dad took off to China when I was three years old, so I'm always thinking about travel. About a year ago, I really wanted to visit Cuba and figured some other people would want to go too. And hell, why don't we all do some yoga while we're there. I reached out to the guys at Cultural Contrast who do these trips all the time, and with their help, our incredible Cuba yoga adventure was born.

old car havana

We took an awesome group of twenty people to do yoga in epic places and explore the country. We spent two days in Havana at Hotel Presidente, took an overnight trip to Viñales, the agricultural region, staying at La Ermita and returned to Havana for two nights at the Hotel Capri. You can't just travel to Cuba as a tourist though, so our yoga trip was designed as a people-to-people trip. Which means meaningful interaction with Cuban citizens. We met up with Miguel Coyula, former assistant city planner in Havana, to learn about Havana's rich history. We spent time with an adorable farmer at an organic farm in Viñales to learn about sustainable agriculture. We rolled cigars with a Cuban caballero. We practiced yoga with Eduardo. The people-to-people part was the best part of all! (I just found out that Miguel Coyula also educated Beyonce and Jay-Z on the history of Cuba so I think my life is now complete.)

And the yoga? We practiced on a rooftop at Hotel Presidente on the first two mornings. A beautiful sunrise flow where we soaked up the vibe of Havana. In Viñales, we practiced overlooking the valley under a thatched roof and at this point, we persuaded our Cuban tour guide and the bus driver to join us for their first ever yoga class and they both loved it. Back in Havana, we practiced in the oceanfront palapa with Eduardo and we wrapped up the trip with a gorgeous sunrise session at the Hotel Nacional overlooking the malecon. And as we departed for the airport, we left our yoga mats with Eduardo so that he could give them to his yoga students in Cuba who didn't have access to mats.

And can't forget the food! We ate all kinds of stuff. Cuba doesn't allow GMO's and almost everything is organic. We had delicious beans and rice everywhere we went, served with chicken, fish, pork. One of my favorite meals was a sushi spot in Jaimanitas (shoutout to Anthony Bourdain for the recommendation) with no menu and great ambiance. Granted all of the fish was tuna, but hey - it's Cuba. And coffee. OMG coffee everywhere. I really don't think I've ever consumed that much coffee and I loved every bit of it. When we went to the tobacco farm, they offered us white coffee (coffee with rum) at 9:30am. Rum with coffee, rum at lunch, rum at dinner. They go hard in Cuba. And our dinner at La Guarita was one of the best I've had in a while, followed by dancing on the rooftop... And the private concert at the malecon... And Fabrica Del Arte... and discovering the little coffee shop in old Havana that could have been in Brooklyn... 

So many stories, so many memories, I could write a novel about our trip. We just had great times as a group - we laughed hard, we sang loudly and we connected. Community travel is hands down the best way to experience culture. Everything is better together. A huge thank you to everyone who came with us and Jason from Cultural Contrast for making it all happen.

Drawing hearts on my hand with saffron at the organic farm in Viñales 

Drawing hearts on my hand with saffron at the organic farm in Viñales 

I'm so grateful for the chance to experience Cuba while it's still raw. There were so few tourists around that it felt like we were alone on the island. This trip left indelible memories and I know we are going back, soon. 

In the meantime, come to Bali with us! A few spots left for this once-in-a-lifetime trip - July 24 - 30, 2016. Amazing yoga with me and Mike, surf lessons, garden-fresh, organic food, adventures, great friends, and tons of new memories to be created. And if you want to find out when we're going back to Cuba, get on my mailing list below... Big love!



Recently, I have been frequenting a little spot on Purdy Ave by the name of Barry's Bootcamp. Or better... Barry's Buttcamp. As yoga has lengthened my body and expanded my mind, it has neglected my glutes, and that lack of strength has in turn caused some of the problematic issues with my low back.

So I am on the butt train.

Not like it's a bad train to be on. And honestly, I'm not even really on the train. I go once, maybe twice a week. If you don't know about Barry's - it's an instructor led workout that alternates weightlifting and interval running and loud music and mirrors everywhere. But I like Kellie, my very fit and inspirational instructor, and my back feels better and I do glute-y things and run on the comfortable treadmills and it's extremely fun for people watching.

Which is why I am writing this blog post.

So there I am at the ol' BBC this morning, running along under the sexpot red lights. Side bar, I wish my lips looked like they do under the red lights IRL. And through the mirror in front of me, I watch as a guy a few treadmills down from me has a total freakout. A few minutes into our run, his treadmill has inexplicably stopped working. He is shaking his head and cursing. He stomps around a little bit and comes over to the nearest functioning treadmill, which happens to be the one right next to me. I watch him through the mirror as he continues to curse and shake his head about the old broken treadmill as he starts to run on this fresh, fully functioning treadmill. And as we run sprints for the next five minutes, his face reflects his internal state. I watch him stay pissed off the whole time. It's way more enjoyable than looking at my own treadmill screen or the poor people behind me doing tricep dips.

And after our sprint round is finished, when I figured he would move on, he grabs his towel and slams it down violently, cursing more loudly now that he has stopped running and he still completely freaking out over something that happened five minutes ago and has already been resolved.

And so I did it. I broke the unspoken rule of group fitness. I said something.

"What's going on, man? You're still upset about the broken treadmill?"

"Yeah" he snaps at me, "It just, I just, can't believe it. It screwed up my whole workout."

"Did it though? Because it looked to me like you were able to finish the run."

"Yeah. But it completely messed me up to stop and switch treadmills when I was right in the middle of my run." 

Hmm... I'm just gonna go yogi on this dude.

"I get it. And isn't that life though? It's not always going to go how you want it to go."

His face starts to soften. "That's true..."

We walk away, the clock ticking on our workout. I go and get set up on my bench for the next round. I've never seen the guy before, probably won't again. I wonder if that advice I gave is for me or for him. It's all so fleeting, this time we have on Earth, in this life. It's not going to go how we want it to go. And we can hold on to the frustrating experiences and get pissed off and create a life of pain or we can flow with the ups and downs and let it all take it's course. Wearing life like a loose shirt... And remembering to be full of gratitude for the wonderful lives that we have.

photo by Matt Roy www.mattroyphotography.com

photo by Matt Roy www.mattroyphotography.com


Breakfast cookies

I have stated this before, but chocolate chip cookies are 100% my favorite. Nothing does it for me like a warm, crispy and chewy chocolate chip cookie. They're just sooo good. But as I've reduced sugar and cut out gluten, they don't always feel as great in my belly as how they tasted in my mouth. But man, that first bite is heaven.

So since I think about food 24/7, I have often dreamed about having chocolate chip cookies for breakfast. It's well documented that nothing tastes better with coffee than some kind of delicious baked good. And to this point, I have make breakfast muffins for years, fulfilling that desire. But a few weeks ago, I decided it was time for something different. Something even more delicious and comforting. Something that used basically the same ingredients as muffins but more cookie like.

It was time for the breakfast cookie.

Breakfast Cookie


  • 1.5 cups gluten free oats (I love Trader Joes brand)
  • 2 free range eggs
  • 1 extremely ripe banana 
  • 1 tablespoon flaxseed meal
  • 1 tablespoon chia seeds
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla
  • 1/4 tsp sea salt
  • 1/4 cup Enjoy Life dark chocolate chips or whatever you have laying around.

Ok so there are a couple foodie notes here. You can do 2 eggs and one banana. Or you can do 2 bananas and one egg. You can blend up some of the oats to make oat flour, or you can leave them as is. If you do this, I would recommend blending like 1/2 cup of the oats into flour. You can add more chocolate chips (duh). You can add more cinnamon (it's so good for you). You can omit the salt. You can add coconut flakes. You can sprinkle with hemp seeds. You can probably blend kale up in these bitches and bake that in. The possibilities are endless.


  1. Whisk eggs and then mash the banana into the eggs. I use a fork for this. Note - use the ripest banana ever. Your banana needs to have black spots all over. It should be mushy... like so ripe that it is attracting fruit flies. This will yield the best result - promise!
  2. Add the oats into your egg-banana mixture.
  3. Add chia, flax, cinnamon, vanilla, sea salt and mix until well blended.
  4. Stir in chocolate chips.
  5. Lay parchment paper over a cookie pan (makes for easy clean-up)
  6. Drop spoonfuls of the mixture on your parchment paper and then use the bottom of a glass to push the cookie down into shape - it helps to grease the bottom of the glass with coconut oil.
  7. Bake at 350 degrees for 12 minutes. Makes like 15 cookies.
  8. Devour! And then save some for breakfast :)


Work in progress

Lots of things have me questioning my life choices lately.

The Zika virus, the sudden loss of a friend's husband, the overwhelming feeling I have that I need to be doing more with my life but I can't put my finger on what more is.

"Let your concern be with action alone, and never with the fruits of action. Do not let the results of action be your motive, and do not be attached to inaction" - Krishna

I don't want to get into action just to get into action but that is exactly what my mind would like me to do. To be busy for the sake of being busy.

And god forbid I'm not busy. When did free time become taboo and honestly, what the hell does a balanced life even look like?

Is this how it's all supposed to be?

So I breathe, and I practice non-attachment. I keep moving forward in the dance of doing and receiving.

My mantra becomes "I love my life. I am grateful for all parts of it." The ups, the downs, the goods, the bads, the self-inflicted scrape on the side of my car, my stolen bike, my shattered kombucha bottle that left shards of glass all over the ground. The warm Miami breeze and ripe avocados and blissful people coming out of my yoga classes. It's all perfect and imperfect and perfectly imperfect.

The sun will rise again tomorrow.

photo by matt roy (mattroyphotography.com)

photo by matt roy (mattroyphotography.com)


Energy Shifters

It must be something about beautiful, warm locales. Maybe it's tropical summer breezes or the fresh coconuts or beach walks, but every oceanfront paradise that I have loved has always come with it's share of incredible healers - people from all over who have settled in to soak up the sandy shores and salty air while sharing their unique gift. Places like Costa Rica, Bali, California.

And our sunny sanctuary of Miami is no exception. Even though Miami is known for it's debaucherous nights, there is a strong community of holistic practitioners, yoga teachers and various energy shifters who call South Florida home. These healers are typically quite intuitive, being able to read body signals and direct energy. They add a layer of mysticism to the communities they live in, as well instilling some serious devotion in their disciples.

"My back's been bothering me again. Need to make an appointment to see my guy."

And the guy could be an acupuncturist, a massage therapist, a crazy-ass personal trainer up in North Miami, a body talker, a restorative yoga teacher... the list goes on. But at the end of the day, they're all light workers. Bringing a positive energy to those who they touch. They make people feel better. They bring the light. And people eat this shit up. 

It like I always say when people ask me if it's ok to assist me in yoga... "who doesn't like to be touched?!"

And all that said, I wanted to highlight some of my favorite energy shifters in Miami - people who can fix what's ailing you and more importantly, people that I have worked with and can personally recommend.

For massage, my favorite therapist is the incredible Michael Orkin. This guy seriously works magic. A session with Michael can transport you to another dimension. In a fun twist of tropical paradise fate, we met Michael while in Bali and found out we lived minutes away from each other in Miami. Beyond having intuitive hands, Michael is also an expert in essential oils, which he sources from a distillation center in Maui. He can make personalized concoctions and incorporates them into your bodywork. He doesn't do social media. He doesn't have a website. He just delivers a stellar session every time. Send him a text and the good vibes roll.

my back after my clavitherapy session. it's kind of like the new cupping.

my back after my clavitherapy session. it's kind of like the new cupping.

So let's say you're good on massage and want to try something a little more interesting, to up-level your healing game. Well then, Gabriella Piccirilli is your woman. A renowned reflexologist, Gaby also is a practictioner of clavitherapy. Clavi-what, you ask? Clavitherapy. It's a Polish modality that believes the body can be understood through the skin. So they assess your spine and use stainless steel instruments to stimulate your nervous system and bring everything back into alignment. It's kinda like acupuncture but not. And cooler. It also helps that Gaby is the only clavitherapy practicioner on this continent. Her clavi sessions wrap up with some delicious expert level reflexology - at the same time both stimulating and relaxing - while she recommends herbs and tonics to help your healing. She spents half her year in Toronto, so try to catch her when she is in Miami for the winter. Again, another under the radar body worker. Text her for session: (647) 272-5734

And finally, if you want the weirdest of the weird, there's Gary. 

Gary the Mechanic is a legend. He's blunt. He can be crude. He loves to impersonate Chinese women. And he knows his shit. He's in his 60's and looks nothing like you would expect. He's a trainer, an intuitive and if you have anything going wrong in your body, he can help you. He will probably forget your appointment. And he won't really want to hear from you what's going on. Instead he'll take your body for a test drive and let it tell him. He's got a little table inside a fitness studio in a strip mall in North Miami. But he has helped my back, my headaches, my ankle and he will personal train you to boot. No website. No social media. But somehow, it all works.

There are so many more awesome light workers, healers and practitioners around Miami - too many to name, these are just a few of my top choices. Would love to hear your favorites and suggestions!





It's been a minute since I've logged on here. My friend asked me the other day why I hadn't blogged in a while.

"I haven't had time."


It's true. It is bullshit. I have had time and I've done other things with it. And as I reflected more, I realized something else. I was hesitant to blog because I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted every post to be meaningful and evocative and just, well... perfect. It's an interesting thing to think back on, because for a while there, I didn't care so much if shit got messy. But then, when I wasn't looking, I went back to what's comfortable - that very familiar "keep it together" place.

And honestly, that desire for perfection holds me back from quite a few things. So I'm into to blogging even when it's not perfect. I'm committed to continuously step into that vulnerable place. I can't say it will all be great. I might write about random stuff - like my new water bottle that I'm obsessed with, but hey, it's honest and it's sharing.

Growth is a constant dance. You gotta keep moving though. Sometimes you take a step back. Sometimes you take two months off. Sometimes you fail. And sometimes... you fly.



Lately I've been totally jamming on self-expression. Mike and I have been binge watching Friday Night Lights on NetFlix and it's transported us both back to high school. As I watch these kids, I remember being a freshman and feeling the need to self-express all the time. I cut my hair short to be different, rocked a Doc Marten collection that I wish I still had, and decorated basically everything I owned to make it "mine". I would cut out magazine pictures and glue them all over my day planner. I would draw on my shoes and decorate barrettes. I was obsessed with expression because it felt so good and so authentic to put my mark on everything in my ninth grade solar system.

But then high school ends and we grow up a little and gain responsibilities and make more challenging choices. We go through times when we feel like we need to fit in more than stand out. Expectations get put on us about what we should do or be, from family, society, from ourselves. We need to go to college, we need to get a job and for sure, we should not eat dairy. Bad news. And deeper than that, the truth is that there are lots of people who are threatened by full self-expression. You can't say that. You can't do that. You definitely can't post that.

Finding your flow. Be yourself. Be authentic. I hear (and use) these phrases day in and day out. And I swear, they're powerful. But such a contradictory message to what society says. So I need to fit in but I am secretly dying to stand out? How do you reconcile it? I think you can find your flow no matter what situation you are in. It doesn’t mean you have to turn your whole life upside down and move to Timbuktu. But it does mean making some choices to direct you towards a path that feels more honest to you. Maybe it’s spending your Sunday morning at a painting class instead of at brunch. Maybe it’s finally buying the fishing rod and soccer cleats or whatever your jam is. It’s taking a step in the direction of you. And if you’re not sure what your flow is… here are questions to ask yourself that are great starting points. What would you love to do if you could do anything? What type of books do you gravitate towards? What were you known for as a little kid? What activities excite you? What would get you up at 6am on a Sunday? If you were given a trip to anywhere – where would you go and what would you do?

These questions get the internal wheels in motion towards leading your most authentic life. And I can tell you, there is not much out there that is better than being yourself. Talk about liberating. Freedom in a bottle. When you are self-expressed, it feels so good. Everything is more pure and more honest. Truth be told, I spend way too much time in the mornings figuring out what I want to wear - but the days when I don't like what I'm wearing negatively influence my mood and well-being. I’d always rather feel like myself. That way I can be nicer, gentler and hold more space for the people around me. When you get to do the things that make you you on a regular basis, when you're comfortable in your skin, everything goes more smoothly.  And when you're in that “you” flow and you love how your life feels… it's magic.

photo cred matt roy

photo cred matt roy



The weather was lovely this morning, so I walked to wework, the co-working space where I have a desk. As I was strolling, I had a flashback to a conversation that took place almost six years ago. I was starting my new job at lululemon and had an on onboarding meeting with my new boss. We reviewed all of the job expectations for a manager role - training and developing the team, managing product, running operations, working with guests, and putting on community events. 

"Well, I feel good about everything except the community events part. I've never done that before and I really have no idea where to even start" I said. 

As an important part of the culture at lululemon, the concept of "community" was daunting to me. I had no idea what to do or how to do it. I just meet people? And do fun stuff with them? I terrifyingly put together my first event, a get-together where I had to email leaders in the fitness world (who were then complete strangers to me) and invite them to a focus group style meeting.

I nervously crafted the email invitations and sent them out into cyberspace. The day of the event, I was sweating and my internal chatter was raging. "Will anyone show up? Did I do this right? I suck at this, I wish someone else would do this part of the job and let me just run the store." I was totally ready to step away from this experience in fear - even before it happened!

Thankfully, people came. And they kept coming. And events kept happening and community started building and there were tons of missteps along the way, but eventually I realized that hell, I liked this. I really liked it.

Putting on community events allowed me to be creative in a new way - coming up with an idea, designing a vibe and bringing it to life through a curated experience, graphic design and social media. It was fun and dynamic. I realized also that, even though I initially fought it, this was natural to me - planning and organizing and meeting people and doing creative things while also being slightly neurotic on the details was all part of the fabric of my being. It's just that when we put a label on it like "community" it somehow felt separate and somehow harder. When really, it was already within me. And community, for most of us, is all we ever all want - to be a part of something bigger than us.

So fast forward six years and I'm now doing "community" pretty much full time. Teaching in the yoga community, putting on yoga and community events, creating a vibe, helping people develop their brands, running social media accounts. Mike and I also have organically expanded Purdy Ave to include community consulting and social media, since that's basically what I have been doing the whole time anyway. And now I have a little office where I can work on community and get to be creative all day long. It's a total dream that came to life in a way I would have never expected.

By no means am I saying that I have it all figured out, or that I know what I'm doing anymore than anyone else. But what I do believe is that the truth of who you are is already inside of you. The beautiful seeds of you were planted long before you even had awareness - and it's up to you to water them and trust them and let them grow and flourish. 

I saw Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love) speak this week  on her new book Big Magic, and her message was so on point, "Do you have the courage to bring forth the treasures that are hidden within you? . . . The hunt to uncover those jewels, that’s creative living."

It takes courage to step into your true self and do shit that seems scary. It takes courage to face fear and overcome it. But I can tell you from experience, in your head it all seems like a lot scarier than it is. Go forth and discover, go forth and nourish your truth... go forth and create. It's awesome.

photo cred @matt_roy

photo cred @matt_roy



A week or so ago, I posted of photo of a journal for one of the practices in my #beyondtheasana challenge. I thought it was a cool little shot, but it didn't get a lot of chatter on social media. Then slowly, over the next few days, people started texting and coming up to me asking "Ok. I saw your post. I bought a journal... Now what do I do?!"

how to journal

YAY! Journaling is a rad hobby. Writing is cathartic. It goes hand in hand with yoga as a template for self-discovery. And as with most of these practices, there really is no right answer for "how" to journal - but I wanted to share some of what has worked for me that can hopefully help you to crack open that beautiful blank book and use it to unlock what you're truly feeling.

One of my favorite quotes is from Hemingway..."There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." When I journal, it is personal. It is not my blog. It is not sharing. It is raw, it is primal and it usually is the shit I don't want to say out loud. Most of the time I don't make sense, I'll just write words over and over and over until something calls out to my subconscious and it gets up-leveled into a full thought. It is a processing tool, so let the words pour onto the paper. Don't stop them and try to make them pretty or make sense. Let them spill out and see what shape they create. Usually I am journaling about things I am feeling - I will almost always write when I'm frustrated so that I can make sense of things. The short journey from my mind to my notebook gives a much-needed sacred pause to situations, some space for reflection. Typically I'll pour everything out - not picking the pen up from the paper - and write for 5 - 10 minutes. Then I'll go back and have a read, asking myself is this real? Is this true? Is this HONEST? Our minds have a funny way of shaping our reality. When you journal, you're able to take the noise in your head outside of you and look at it more clearly, from a third party perspective.

But let's say you're not heated. That you just want to write to get to know yourself better. A lot of people like the idea of morning pages - keeping a journal by your bed and writing a few pages upon waking so that you capture that golden hour of mind magic. I've attempted this countless times and have ultimately come to the conclusion that I need some caffeine before I have any ability to pick up a pen. I prefer the idea of writing whenever you feel called to do so. Maybe over a cup of coffee, maybe before bed. And you can play with prompts for your journaling so that you have something to sink your teeth into. Some great cues might be "what do I really want?" or "what's true for me?" I also like "who am I really?" "I am inspired by..." and "I'm grateful for..."

The key for any of these is to write down whatever comes up for you and let the responses flow on the paper without judging your own answers. This is for no one else but you! If you're inspired by Kim Kardashian, write that shit down! Let it run free! Respect your journal as safe space to get to know yourself - your beautiful and perfect TRUE SELF. This is all for you, unadulterated by shame or doubt. This is your truth and it is awesome.

As with any personal development stuff, the biggest hurdle is fear. Fear of being judged, fear of someone reading it, or even bigger - fear of who you really might be. This is the work. This is the work we are all in all the time. Overcoming the fear. And maybe, instead of focusing on the fear, can you imagine a world where we are all truly self-expressed? Where we are all happy and free?

One of my favorite yoga chants is lokah samastah sukihno bhavantu. Remember what it means? May all beings everywhere be happy and free. You deserve all of this. You deserve freedom, happiness and access to your truest, deepest self. We all deserve it. This is where the magic is. So go write a little, go bleed a little, go FEEL something new! There is gold inside you and it's time to go digging.

Journal on, my loves.



I love community, and I love technology, so it's no surprise that I love social media.

Yes, it can be a huge time suck - no need for me to go on about those midnight hashtag spirals, we've all been there. But to it's credit, it can provide incredible opportunities to learn, connect and share. Currently, Dawn B and I are hosting a yoga challenge on instagram called #beyondtheasana and I am totally inspired by everyone participating. Watching people share their pictures, thoughts and yoga practice with us is magic. The little glimpses into life are making me smile every morning. 

This connection is what strengthens our bonds as humans. This is why we love instagram or Humans of New York or people watching. Having a human experience - simply being human - is fascinating and frustrating at the same time.

Instagram, like the world at large - and like being human, can be disheartening and not always a truthful place, but when you do find those little snippets of honest expression, savor them.

And when we can be truthful with ourselves and the world around us - both on the inside and the outside - then savor that even more. Vulnerable expression is a step closer to true connection. And true connection is what makes this whole being human thing worth it.



I remember sometime around middle school, I sat in my room and wrote up two different career paths for myself, both having specific timelines and expectations. I looked out the window and daydreamed about the perceived journeys and eventual successes. If I chose the lawyer path, I would need to do this. If I chose the doctor path, I would need to do this. I marched out to the kitchen to show my parents, who commended my foresight and planning. I think I even put a checkbox next to each option.

And clearly, neither path was chosen. But that love of structure, that desire to know what my "plan is" lives on, deeply rooted in my way of being. And both by choice and through necessity, I've spent the few years learning how to be okay without structure. 

For some, this sounds like heaven. But for me, this has not been an easy lesson. Throughout our American lives, or at least until college ends, we have a plan laid out for us. We have our next steps lined up and built-in friendships. And once that time ends, it's scary and many of us jump into the first job that comes along that makes us feel comfortable. I was that way.

And then when I took the leap and left my comfortable job, spent extended time traveling without an agenda, worked for myself without any set schedule, and wondered what to do next, I found myself saying how much I liked having a "purpose".

And I realized that somewhere along the line, I've mixed up purpose and structure. My previous understanding of purpose was moving towards some meaning in life by way of a set path. You start a foundation and raise money. You go to school and use what you've learned to give back. You have a plan!!!

And this is not necessarily true. Yes, a plan helps to deliver your purpose, but a true purpose - your purpose - is in you all along. You don't need a straight and narrow for your message to be heard. Let it show up in everything you do. Let your life be a reflection of what you love. Your purpose will shine no matter what path you've chosen.

I just spent the last week in Costa Rica with an amazing retreat group and one of the girls told me how she didn't know what to do with herself without every minute of her life planned out. I smiled and agreed, because I intimately know the feeling.

And I also smiled because now I know there's a whole lot waiting for you when you finally decide step outside that box.