simple.green.organic.happy.

Category: Books & Writing

Organic Matters, Mom Enough and Julia’s Child

“But there’s no end, Julia. If you open a factory,
even if you get ten orders from the trade show,
where does it stop?
Then you’ll just have to work 7 days a week.
How does this end? That’s what I need to know…”

Until tonight I’d thought that failure was my biggest enemy.
But now I had to add success to my list of worries.

How could I possibly go on like this?

-Sarah Pinneo, Julia’s Child

It’s Book Club Day! This month I signed on to read Julia’s Child, a novel about a woman with principles, an organic toddler food business, and two kids of her own.

I thought this book would be a great jumping off point for me to talk about organic foods and how they matter. About how you can have a business and still have ethics. About how it’s important to live what you believe.

The quote above floored me.

At that point, the novel became less about organic anything and more about fear. Fear of success. Fear of failure.

Because when you commit to any one thing, you take time and dedication away from another, and when that other is your family… well, it’s difficult. And for me it hits close to home.

Recently the internets (predictably) exploded with the release of a Time magazine article that claimed about to be about attachment parenting. I haven’t read it, so I can’t speak to that; and I refuse to link to it, so if you want to go down that rabbit hole go ahead and put a Google on it.

What I can speak to, however, is how obnoxious the cover was, in its obvious effort to sell magazines by pitting moms against each other.

Working mom vs stay at home mom. Breastfeeding mom vs bottlefed mom. Homeschooling mom vs public school mom vs private school mom. I could go on all day.

Fear. Fear that we aren’t mom enough. Fear that if we are mom enough, then we aren’t woman enough.

Fear that we’re screwing our kids up. Every day, new headlines shout all the ways we’re doing it wrong. Of course, those studies will be debunked in a few months time. And then that study will be refuted. I’ve worked in the momosphere long enough to see that these stories are cyclical.

And they feed off our fear.

I feel the fear all the time. I work a lot. I do it for me, for my sense of accomplishment and yes, self-worth. I do it so I can help pay for the things we want and need. I do it to show my kids that hard work and being creative and thinking for yourself means something.

But it takes time away from my kids, and I only get 18 years with them before they venture out into the world without me. I only get a few hours with them most days of the week. And my youngest will be 8 this July… meaning that almost half my time with her is already gone forever.

It scares the living crap out of me.

I found this in the trash can in my office today.

What the hell does this even mean? Shortest term, or shortest stature? (I’m not up on my Presidential trivia.) What prompted her to doodle such a thing while sitting on my office floor?

I want to ask her about it, and I sort of don’t. It’s such a beautiful little moment, funny and darling and I want to fold it up and put it in my pocket and carry it always with me. And to think, if I’d emptied my trash like I was supposed to (tomorrow is pickup day) I would have missed it.

And I fear that I’ve missed out on twenty million such moments already. Maybe even just this year, while I was on a business trip or working on a spreadsheet or saying, “Hang on buddy, I’ll be there in a minute. Wait until I finish this one thing.”

Just thinking about it makes me panic, makes me want to wake her from her bed and ask her to tell me every little thing she’s done in her sleepy voice, so I can collect all the gems and put them in my pocket and jingle them, like change, as I go about my day.

And no, I have no idea what that means. But I feel very strongly about it.

I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand.

It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what.

You rarely win, but sometimes you do.

-Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

Usually when I sit down to write a blog post I haz opinions. I have an end game in mind.

That is not the case with this one. I have no answers.

I just wanted to let all those moms who wonder if they are “mom enough” know that they are not alone.

I am proud of my kids. I am proud of the way I have parented them. I still stand behind living the non-toxic life, behind being both strict and free range, behind eating organic, behind not treating my kids like children, behind demanding they earn praise and rewards, behind giving them life skills as soon as they were physically capable of learning them and then expecting them to pull their own weight around the house.

But I have my own laundry list of regrets, perceived inadequacies, dashed hopes and certainties that I have screwed my children up beyond all possible repair.

As parents we all fight that terrible battle and yet we soldier on and do our best.

Being a parent is courageous.

No matter where you stand on a million little issues that the media and other parents would like to pit us against each other on: believing in your stance and parenting by it, is courageous.

Raising your child so that one day they will no longer need you is courageous.

Life… is all about struggling through fear. About being courageous in the face of situations where you’re licked before you begin.

How you approach those situations, I think, is where the true parenting lies.

That is what makes you “mom enough.”

This post is inspired by the novel Julia’s Child by Sarah Pinneo, a book I really enjoyed although I barely even touched on the plot here. Worried about what her kids eat, Julia Bailey starts a prepared organic toddler meals business. With names like Gentil Lentil, can Julia balance work and family and still save the world?

Join From Left to Write on May 24 as we discuss Julia’s Child. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

May 24, 2012
Don’t Tell Them What They Can’t Do

We don’t want to force our children to conform to any group mean.
There’s no reason to dismiss their goals solely because of their ages;
to underestimate a child is to disrespect her.

-Patricia Ellis Herr,
UP: A Mother & Daughter’s Peakbagging Adventure

I overheard her as I passed in the hallway. I had just finished a workout in the Y fitness room, and one of the childcare workers had taken 3yo Cass to visit the bathroom. As she briskly helped Cass wash her hands, the woman tut-tutted about the outfit she was wearing: grey sweatpants and a black tshirt (that read AB/CD in the style of the AC/DC logo).

“Little girls can’t wear black.”

——————————————————–

Game after game Cassie’s basketball coach put her in as point guard because she “can’t” shoot. At her last game, he lent her out to the other team, which was short a player. That coach sized her up quickly and played her as center. She can shoot, just not from far away. She’s short and she hasn’t had much practice, mostly because her coach was so quick to sideline her (and tell her to “cheer,” which is a whole other blog post).

It was the best game she played all season. And parents from both teams cheered loudly for her every time she made a basket.

——————————————————-

Jake used to be able to snap his fingers to the music, something that amazed me because I still can’t snap my fingers very well. He was somewhere in the range of 18months, 2 years old, not really talking but definitely hearing. “Watch, he can snap his fingers,” I said to my friend’s sister. “Oh, no he can’t. He’s just a baby!” she scoffed.

I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it, but he would never do it after that when I asked.

——————————————————-

Three times a week I take the kids to the park and I go running. Cass plays on the playground, Maverick shoots hoops on the basketball court right next to it or hangs out with other kids in the near vicinity, and Jacob skates on his skateboard. I’m out of sight for maybe two minutes; the other six minutes it takes me to complete the circuit the playground is in view. But I can tell by the skunkeye I get from the other playground moms when I gather the kids back up that “you really can’t leave your kids on the playground by themselves.”

For real. Do kids really need an adult on the playground? I bet I’d get a few sidelong glances if I decided to go down the slide, myself. It’s a losing proposition all around at this age.

(I should add that yes, my heart is in my throat every time Cass hangs upside down like she is in this picture. I keep my mouth shut because I remember doing exactly the same… only my playground had city concrete beneath, not a forgiving pad of mulch.)

—————————————————–

“My kid can’t pick up after himself… pour his own drink… keep his room clean… boil an egg.”

My kids do the dishes, their own laundry, clean the cat box, take out the trash. They can make an omelet, order pizza, sew a button, bake cookies (and a host of other things) from scratch. I’m pretty sure they could balance a checkbook and they do my video editing and uploading. If they were deserted on a desert isle or left Home Alone á la Macaulay Culkin, I’m pretty confident that they would survive just fine (as long as they didn’t kill each other due to getting on each other’s nerves).

Parents often ask how I managed this… I just never told them they can’t do this or that when they were younger. You know, back when they really wanted to do these things.

_________________________________

My examples are trivial, yes. They’re what sprang to mind. Times where I couldn’t understand why an adult would be so fixated on CAN’T.

Up: A Mother and Daughter’s Peakbagging Adventure is Patricia Ellis Herr’s recounting of climbing 48 White Mountain peaks (each over 4,000ft) over 15 months with her five-year-old daughter, Alex. Can’t simply is not a word in that child’s dictionary, and I adore her for it. She’s pushy and strong-willed and open, the way any five-year-old should be.

And yet she encountered her fair share of adults ready to tell her that little girls can’t climb mountains. Even as she was doing it.

It boggles my mind. Why would anybody tell a kid they can’t achieve something? Especially something big, and inspiring, and doesn’t hurt anyone else?

Kids of a certain age believe they can do anything, and so much of their future personality is bound up in how they explore what they can do.

Of course, they will learn that there ARE things that they can’t do. Discovering these limitations on their own, and how to deal with and compensate for those limitations gracefully is a vital part of growing up. To throw down can’t as an obstacle is unfair. It robs kids of rich learning experiences.

When you grow a plant in a container… it grows as big as the container allows. The rare, tenacious plant will escape the container’s walls and set root in the earth beyond, but for most plants their life expands only as far as the boundaries that surround them.

Children are like plants, and too many are only allowed to grow as far as a parent’s arm’s reach or watchful gaze will permit.

Trish Herr allowed her child to bloom under a mountain vista. I love that. I wish it were the norm… not so remarkable that a book would need to be written to celebrate it.

That being said, it is a remarkable story about a remarkable little girl, and I hope it inspires more people to relax and let their kids expand to fill their world. They’re capable of so much.

I hope this experience will leave an indelible mark in her young heart,
forever there to remind her that small doesn’t necessarily mean weak,
that girls can be strong,
and that big, bold things are possible.

Amen to that.

We tell them they can achieve anything.

Can we step back and give them some room to try?

Trish Herr’s then five year old daughter Alex wanted to hike all 48 of New Hampshire’s 4,000+ foot mountains. Would you let your five year old do the same? Join From Left to Write on April 12 as we discuss Up: A Mother and Daughter’s Peakbagging Adventure. As a member of From Left to Write, I received a copy of the book. All opinions are my own.

April 11, 2012
Gamechanger: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (Book Club Day)

This is the story…

of how our family was changed by our first year of deliberately eating food

produced from the same place where we worked, went to school,

loved our neighbors, drank the water, and breathed the air.

-Barbara Kingsolver,
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life

In early 2008 I took two books out of the library that changed my family. The first was Richard Louv’s Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder. The second was Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. Her story is absolutely what inspired me to alter our story, and those two books are what inspired this blog.

Kingsolver’s game changing, life changing story involves her family’s journey from the food desert of Arizona back to the land in Virginia, and their commitment to one year of living la vida local. It’s one part memoir, one part historical narrative, one part cookbook and one part political manifesto, with a healthy dose of ethical undertone thrown in for seasoning.

After reading it, I…

undertook my own eat local project…

…which eventually grew into a real love and appreciation of my co-op’s farmers market. I developed friendships with the farmers and small businesses I saw there week after week, felt really good about where my dollars were going, and have been asked to work with my local chapter of Slow Food USA this year to help others discover the joys of local food and like-minded companionship.

learned to cook…

… sort of. I’m still no chef, trust me, but I can cook lots of simple meals and have become brave enough to try more complex recipes and experiment with brand new ones. We embraced new foods like rainbow chard just because it was in season. My kids have been exposed to a whole world of tastes and textures that I never was, and they have learned to cook as well. It’s healthier for them on so many levels— the willingness to try new things, the ability to control their own sugar and fat intake as they grow older, and I can’t help but think that my boys will make such good husbands one day with their cooking prowess.

tried to garden.

I’m not very good at it, and every year Jeff announces that this is my last gardening attempt. Stick a fork in me, I’m done. I’m terrible about the upkeep, and the weeds pop up faster than I am willing to pluck them. Granted, there is a wonderful taste of victory when you cook and eat your own fresh green beans, heritage tomatoes, lettuce greens, basil and rosemary and parsley. There is also potential for soul-crushing defeat when deer consume your entire vegetable plot overnight just as your efforts begin to set fruit. I continue to plant those seeds and starters in spring, because to me there is no better symbol of hope… but for us, in our shade garden, it’s not the same symbol of freedom that it was for the Kingsolvers.

stopped buying processed junk.

Not entirely. But mostly, I eat real food. And I’ll preach that practice until the day I die. Our bodies have evolved, slowly, for generations, to efficiently use the nutrients found in food. To eat anything else is to willingly submit to volunteering your and your children’s bodies as guinea pigs for science experiments. This seems like hyperbole, but I’m not kidding. How many illnesses might be attributed to consistently consuming things our bodies aren’t fully equipped to process?

stopped wasting food.

Seriously. Now that I know how much effort goes into growing and cooking the stuff, throwing it out just kills me.

changed my shopping habits.

I’m far from perfect, but I buy mindfully, in the grocery store and everywhere else. I care a whole heck of a lot about who my dollar benefits and how my choices affect the earth. I strive to keep my money in the community, or at least supporting companies whose ethics I support.

cherish food moments.

Not every meal is a masterpiece, and to be honest I don’t cook special meals as often as I did when I first started all this (I wasn’t working full-time in 2008). But I do ask my kids to help me when I cook new things, and we eat them together, and remember them together later. Holidays are especially precious. Food and memory and emotion are all tied up together in our lives, and when you roll up your sleeves and work hard to produce something memorable, there is something glorious about that.

What I still haven’t done…

canning and preserving.

I’ll come right out and admit it: I’m scared. I’m afraid of doing something wrong and poisoning us all. The lovely people at Ball sent me a starter kit— I think I won it somewhere, I can’t even remember— and it has been collecting dust for a year at least. This summer I swear I will have someone teach me.

raised poultry.

My favorite passages of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle involve turkey raising, and I’m not even going to tell you about them because I want you to read them. But I will say this: I learned from this book that turkeys are too stupid to have sex without human intervention. I already knew that chickens have been bred to have breasts so large, they cannot even support their own weight on their own two feet, meaning that those “cage-free” specimens at the grocery store are meaningless. I have friends who raise eyebrows at my willingness to raise and slaughter my own fowl, but at least I would know that those birds got a real life and a humane death.

However, based on my inability to take care of a carrot bed, Jeff’s putting his foot down about the chickens I covet. We’ll see. Maybe in a few years, when the kids are older and can help out there.

Rocking my thinking… again

My first time reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle I was fascinated by all the info that was new to me, by their project, and it propelled me into a new way of life. Reading it again, three years later, I was more struck by Kingsolver’s assessment after the year was over:

If our special way of eating had seemed imposing at first, gradually it was just dinner, the spontaneous background of family time as we met our fortunes one day, one phone call, one hospital visit, wedding, funeral, spelling bee, and birthday party at a time. It caused us to take more notice of food traditions of all kinds— the candy-driven school discipline program, the overwhelming brace of covered dishes that attend a death in the family. But in the main, our banana-free life was now just our life…

Our plan to make everything from scratch had pushed us into a lot of great learning experiences. In some cases, what we learned was that it was too much trouble for everyday… Altered routines were really the heart of what we’d gained.

The difference between a book and a blog is that with a book you get to have closure, an ending.

Sometimes with this blog I become discouraged; I don’t start a lot of new projects anymore. I don’t know what to write about because all this has become the backdrop of my life. It didn’t happen all at once; it was one step at a time, sometimes two steps back. But I find out-of-season, trucked-cross-country apples just don’t taste as good. When I go back to drinking soda, I feel yucky. And when we make our cakes out of a box, we all feel like we’ve cheated ourselves out of something more expensive, more time-consuming, more effort— but also just better for us, better tasting, better feeling.

We’ve internalized so much and it has become normal for us, our routines have become forever altered.

I’ll keep writing because I don’t think I can stop, just as I don’t think I could start eating apples flown in from New Zealand or buying factory-farmed chickens, even if they are hyperlocal. My hope has always been to inspire someone else to begin the journey, because if we could do it, surely you can.

But if you wouldn’t mind leaving me a comment about what you’d like to know about?

That would make my day.

Hey you! Start squawking! Tell me what I should write about next!

Could you live an entire year eating locally or the food from your garden? Barbara Kingsolver transplanted her family from the deserts of Arizona to the mountains of Virginia for their endeavor. Join From Left to Write on February 21 as we discuss Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver.

As a member of From Left to Write, I received a copy of the book to highlight and dog-ear and otherwise prep for future blog posts. All opinions are my own.

February 21, 2012