So I picked up this adorable little jar of really natural organic caramel sauce when I was in New York City last week. Got home from cute little kosher grocery store, looked at the receipt and saw that I had paid $10.99 for it. Ouch.

I promptly tasted it and decided it was worth keeping. Brand is The Date Lady (www.ilovedatelady.com), and it has three ingredients: dates, caramel extract and sea salt. That’s it! Awesome, really. I looked forward to serving it with non-dairy desserts and feeling good about it.

On another NY shopping trip, I bought a couple fruit carving tools – v-shaped kiwi cutter and cool swirly melon baller thing.

So I go through security on the way home and of course they pull me over to examine my bag. TSA guy asks me if there’s anything sharp in my bag. Oh shoot – I realize they’re going to take away my carving tools. I feel kind of stupid, but I tell him that I have a carving tool and I prepare to be disarmed. He says, okay, I just want to be sure I don’t poke myself when I’m going through your bag.

And then he pulls out my caramel sauce, slowly unwraps the bags I put it in for protection, examines the ounces listed on the jar, and says, this is too big. You can’t take this on the flight.

I say you’re kidding. That’s an $11 dollar bottle of caramel sauce. Take my $3 carving tool. Take my make-up, my mint gum, take anything, but don’t take my caramel sauce. Okay, I didn’t say all that. What I asked is, is someone at least going to be able to enjoy it? To which he answered brutally – no, we throw it out.

Ouch. Again.

Is it just me, or is there something seriously wrong with our TSA?? Wait, that was totally obvious and always has been. I’ll end with something more clever…

As you fly the friendly skies, know you’ll be safe from caramel sauce, large Greek yogurts, full size tubes of toothpaste, and fancy bottles of wine. But definitely watch out for those ice cream toppings. They can be lethal, even with only three pure and natural ingredients.

If anyone in New York and the surrounding areas is reading this, please go out and buy some Date Lady caramel sauce. Pour it over your ice cream or cheesecake, into your latte, or just pour it right into your mouth (if it’s been that kind of day). And think of me.

I find myself in NY city once again, enjoying the raw energy of the people, the busses and the huge buildings. Even the garbage and cigarette smoke adds something unique to the scene.

Somehow, in the midst of all the roughness, moments of stunning humanity seem to happen each time I’m here – either on a bus or waiting for one. (Taxis are for those who want to go through life without stopping to enjoy it. They just want to get somewhere fast and not enjoy the trip. Add to that the fact that I’d rather spend the $40 on a fabulous meal.)

Waiting at a bus stop on Amsterdam Ave, we were joined by a harried mother with a jumpy little boy and two older daughters. The little guy reached the bench first and scooted over to make some room.

He motioned excitedly to his mother, showing her the six inch space next to him, and she tiredly sat down. He looked down and saw she didn’t have enough room, and immediately jumped off the bench so his his mother could make herself comfortable. He waved his arm expansively and said It’s all for you Mommy, you sit, as he danced around her.

This morning as I was getting ready to leave to the airport my own little (6 ft tall) boy touched my heart big time by giving me a gift for my journey. I was getting ready to leave him for a significant amount of time to fend for himself and he was taking care of me.

The mother at the bus stop wasn’t exactly acting worthy of love. She seemed anxious, distracted, tired, annoyed. But her little fella wanted to make her happy – it was his absolute joy and delight to give his mother the whole piece of bus stop bench to rest her weary bones.

There’s something in these sweet little – and big – boys that wants so deeply to make their mamas happy and cared for.

It goes both ways. As mothers, our job is to love and to give and to love and to give. In those moments when our boys (or our girls) give back it is so deeply beautiful and precious.

It’s been a hard day. It’s been a hard week. Someone very dear in our family passed away suddenly, and the emotions evoked during the many hours on the phone with family and friends are exhausting.

The weird thing is how life is moving along, and I still need to take care of the kids, make dinner, do errands and function in a world that has no idea of my loss.

Or do they?

At the drugstore, the cashier ringing up the lady next to me makes a point of saying Hello to me, and asking how I’m doing. Same guy who jokes with me when I bring my daughter in for nail polish and she takes forever choosing a color and then I come back the next day to swap it for a different one.

At the supermarket, Lisa (who I’ve known for years) says I don’t usually see you in here this late. Then she looks closely at my face as she starts scanning my oats and raisins and says You okay? I’m not really, but that’s okay, I respond. I know she cares, but if I start talking about how I really feel it’ll be all over, and for heaven’s sake this is the express lane.

So I leave without spilling my heart, but even so, I feel her concern and that’s something. I step out into the fresh air of the parking lot, get into my car, and take a few deep breaths.

A really hard day was just made a teeny bit softer with the humanity shown by a few cashiers.

Life will go on, and we’ll all be okay.