An Open Letter to My Children

First, I want you both to know that my expectations of you are simple:  Be honest, have integrity, learn to admit when you are at fault, and treat others as you would want to be treated. 

With that said, I have a few other requests for your consideration:

1. Don't shop at Wal-Mart.  Wal-Mart is directly representative of everything that is wrong with this country economically and socially.  I don't care if you have to drive 45 miles out of your way to get a new bathmat.  I'll send you gas money to cover your losses. 

2. Respect and honor the little man.  Go out of your way to have the local shoe cobbler fix the soles of your favorite shoes; old fashioned, I know, but someday you'll understand.  Frequent the littlest hole in the wall restaurant you can and tip the server generously.  Buy your vegetables from a little shack along a rural roadside.  I promise you that you will not regret doing any of these things.

3. Vote.  Educate yourself first.  Then vote your wallet.  This family never has been, nor is it likely to ever be, anything but middle class.  This means you are stuck on the left.  Feel free to stay here with Mom somewhere in the vicinity of Ralph Nader, or join your Dad in the realm of Che Guevara, but never try to walk the middle.  Should you break through the family glass ceiling and become a millionaire, stay on the left anyway.  The little people need your voice because they do not have one.

4. Remember when I made you watch documentary films about the U.S. food industry when you were in elementary school, and taught you how to read ingredients labels on your food?  Remember running around trying to find foods that *didn't* contain corn syrup or corn oil, and telling me that corn was "bad news" and that we will have to get our food at Trader Joe's from now on?  Remember talking about how the corn is infected with pesticides, which is then eaten by the cow, which then becomes part of your hamburger at McDonald's and your Frosty at Wendy's?  At the least, may you both become herbivores; but if you can take it beyond your own dinner plate, feel free to change the world.

5. Hold doors for people--old people, young people, disabled people, pretty people, ugly people, slow people, people that smell good, people that smell bad, and people who are making you late for another appointment.

6. Let others go ahead of you in long checkout lanes, especially if they are pregnant (or old, or disabled).  If they don't have enough money to pay for their groceries, pay the difference for them.

7. You will likely each marry someday and it will become glaringly evident to you why in some cultures, parents still arrange marriages.  Remember that long before Johnny or Jill invaded the family, there was only Gavin and Talia and that they loved each other.  The most important thing you can ever do for your family, as siblings, is to make it clear to all parties that you love everyone and nobody is going to be shunned from the family.  Should a wound be caused by your relationship, the longer you let
it bleed and fester, the worse off you will be.  There will come times when you just want to call your brother, but you will be afraid that he won't answer.  And there will be moments you'd like to share with your sister that you'll avoid because you think she hates you.  She doesn't--she can't--and she never will.  Remember, children, that no people in this life form bonds like those of a set of siblings.  Blood such as that is hard to leave behind.

8. Eventually you will come across people--people you will be forced to deal with--that you will strongly dislike.  Maybe they are negative, or unhappy, or rude, or mean...be nice to them.  They will have no idea how to handle it.

9. There will come a day when your father or I will disappoint you.  I'm not talking about forgetting to put your milk money in your lunchbox or failing to show up at the Cub Scout crossover ceremony.  I mean that we will do something really irrepairably stupid for which you will not want to forgive us.  Forgive us anyway, not just because it is the morally upright thing to do, but also because someday you're going to let your kids down, too, and you'll want them to do the same for you.

10. Read Harry Potter with your children.  Every night until you finish all seven books.  Discuss the books with them--especially the parts about making the right choices in the face of adversity.  Instill in them the honest belief that in the end, even when the wait is long, good always triumphs over evil.

11. Every day, tell your daughters they are beautiful and that they are loved, and don't let them see you fretting about your own body image. 

12. Value your natural talents, value your education, and value your friends, family, and community.  Then share.

13. Sit with me quietly to hear the vibration of the universe.  I promise you it is there.

14. Grow things.  Grow flowers, grow vegetables and herbs, grow turtles and puppies--but most of all, grow yourself--your sense of self, your pride in yourself, your spirituality, your intellect, your talents, and your understanding of others who are not like you.  Grow to love all those things you cannot do well as well as the ones you do.  It is the only way you will continue to grow.

15. Help those who are in need in some way, be it in a grand way or a small one, every single day.  Give away your unused toys and clothes at Christmas time.  Offer to help serve food at a food bank for a day.  Shovel little Old Lady Smith's sidewalk for her when it snows.

16. Be fearless and uninhibited.  Dance.  Sing.  Do something zany and unexpected.  Take an unannounced roadtrip or work with the circus for a while.  Backpack though Europe, or climb Machu Picchu, or mush some dogs across the Yukon.  Live more liberated, less stringent, less stiffled lives than your father and I lived.  Do it all and live with no regrets. 

17. Call your grandparents.  You've already lost one--you never know when the next will be called away. 

18. Make family of friends who want to be your family.  The times where families all lived communally and respected each other are long gone; perhaps they are even a mythology.  There will be people in your families who will hurt and betray you, who will drive wedges between you and other people that you love.  F-ck those people.  If you find people who love you and treat you as if you were part of their family, let it ride for a while.  Okay, on the one hand you might have just joined a cult, but it is far more likely that you have found your best friends for life.  Love is not restricted to bloodlines and DNA matches.  Love is having a mutual respect with someone for whom you'd walk into a threatening position--gladly--if it meant that you could help that person in some way.

19. Side with the righteous.  By this I do not mean that you need to be a sanctamonious asshole.  But you do need to determine, with clear head and heart, which side is the right one and once you've figured it out, stay there.

20. We are going prom dress shopping TOGETHER, Talia.  And bathing suit shopping, too.

21. Gavin, pay for your date.  It is corny and old fashioned.  She will be impressed and find it quaint.  Prove that you want be a part of her support structure. 

22. You are both smart and talented.  Beware of arrogance.  It will earn you few friends.  Many, many other people are smart, too, and they expect that to be ackowledged.  So what if your classmates don't know about the mummification and entombment of an Egyptian Pharoah?  What, you think that's common knowledge for a 7-year-old?  It's not.  If the other people around you don't share your prior knowledge, it doesn't make them dummies.

23. Someday you are going to find a spouse and you are going to start a family of your own and you are going to forget about the woman who washed your butt and took you to ballet and made sure you always had healthy food in your lunchbox and helped you with your homework and loved you more than she thought she had room in her heart to allow.  Call her.  She misses you terribly.

24. When given a choice to make, you always have the choice to do nothing.  ALWAYS do something. 

25. [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]
By E. E. Cummings 1894–1962

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

                                                      i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Dear Outback Steakhouse: I Should Not Have to Suffer Just Because My Husband Wants a Steak

Today, after six months of searching, my husband finally found a job.  Naturally, I wanted to celebrate, and of course it was only fair that I allow him to choose the restaurant, right?  Whereas I was hoping for something along the lines of a local place such as Deagan's, which offers menu options that are herbivore friendly, or even some place where I could order a nice bit of sushi roll (which is really kind of cheating for the type of diet I am trying to follow, but I haven't been able to let go of the raw seafood--yet), he chose Outback Steakhouse.

Before I go on with this story, I feel like I need to point out that we never go anywhere.  We don't have the money for a babysitter (have you seen how much these kids charge these days?!) and as should be evident by the fact that my husband has been looking for work for half a year, going out to eat is a very, very rare treat.  Furthermore, I want you to know that I love to eat.  I mean I LOVE TO EAT.  So I was super duper looking forward to this. 

And I really didn't want to go to Outback.

For one thing, I am just tired of always going to the same places.  Considering that we rarely go out to eat in the first place, to go the same restaurants every time we *do* go anywhere is just boring.  Second, I don't want steak, so it doesn't make much sense for me to go to a steakhouse.

It's not that I don't like steak.  It's not even that I have some big issue against eating animals.  I hesitate to call myself "vegan," or a "raw foodist," or even "vegetarian," because my eating habits have only just begun to change.  Furthermore, I want to make it clear that I have not changed my diet to be cool or trendy.  First, I am tired of feeling like crap and being told that I need to take this drug and that drug in order to feel well and live a "normal" lifestyle; I don't buy into that anymore.  I have been told not to stop taking my antidepressants or anti-anxiety meds, that the only reason I feel that I am "better" is because I keep taking them.  Bullcrap.  Since I started eating a primarily raw diet three months ago, I have felt tons better both physically and emotionally.  In addition, I am not in the same place psychologically as I was when I reluctantly agreed to start taking said prescriptions.  I think that when we are told that it is "dangerous" to quit taking the drugs we have been prescribed, often it's just the drug companies' way of making us think that we *have* to keep poisoning ourselves with their disgustingly price inflated crap so they can keep raking in more money.

The second major reason I have been trying to "go vegan" is because I have read and seen too much about where food comes from.  In this country, our farm animals are confined to small spaces and surrounded by their own feces, injected with hormones to make them fatter for the slaughter, and fed corn that has been injected with Roundup.  Not only do I not want to eat their flesh, but I don't want to consume their milk, either.  Anything that has been ingested by these animals is going to make its way into my body as well.  I don't really want my kids ingesting this toxic crap either, but I can only set what I think is a good example and take things one step at a time.  Changing the entire family's diet overnight just isn't going to happen, and I don't want to be the stringent parent who lords over her kids' plates at every meal and makes them resent healthy eating for the mere sake of annoying their parents.

And the third reason that I have dropped the animals is, to be totally honest, because I am terrified of getting fat.  Not much more to say here.

So back to Outback Steakhouse.  We get there and I look over the menu.  I figure I can order a salad of some type, no problem, right?  But I soon realized that there was NOT ONE SALAD OR OTHER MEAL ON THE MENU THAT DIDN'T CONTAIN MEAT--with the exception of the house salad.  So that's what I ordered...only to find out that it comes with cheese on it, so I had to make special requests in the dairy department as well.  This was terribly irritating to me.  I was hungry and I was supposed to be experiencing a special occasion, but all I could feel was angry that there was next to nothing on the menu that I could eat.  And to be honest, making exceptions to my eating rules is not an option anymore.  I have been eating raw and vegan for so many weeks now that eating anything else makes me sick.  Really, really sick.  Since I prefer not to spend the entire night in pain and hovering near my bathroom, I am just not going to go there.

I know.  I was at a "steakhouse."  But this is the year 2011, people.  Get a clue.  More and more people in this country are turning to veganism every day.  At the very least, you'd think that a restaurant would offer vegetarian meals other than one lousy salad.  But nope.  Nothing.

Upon coming home, I decided to do a Google search on this to see if I was the only angry herbivore who had ever visited Outback Steakhouse.  I simply searched the words "vegan Outback."  The first thing I found was a blog from a "vegan" author who went on to praise the "Bloomin' Onion" appetizer as a terrific vegan menu option.  Really?!  Why exactly are you even bothering?  Just because a dish is "vegan" doesn't make it good for you, people.  We're talking about a giant batter dipped fried onion.  I am trying to eat healthy foods that will not stop my heart and/or go straight to my thighs, thank you.  A Bloomin' Onion just isn't an option.

But more interesting than the dumb Bloomin' Onion blogger was this e-mail I found on the Vegan Eating Out website.  Apparently, someone e-mailed the corporate office with some kind of questions or demands concerning the lack of vegan choices on the menu.  Now here's the first thing that is ridiculous about Outback's response:  "Vegan" suggestion #1 is the "Blue Cheese Chopped Salad."  Are you kidding, you corporate buffoons?  Since when is blue cheese, or any other cheese for that matter, NOT an animal product?  In the e-mail, the corporation goes on to suggest that the customer eat a baked potato, or a sweet potato, or even a lovely slice of bread.  Here's a clue, Outback Corporate Imbiciles:  THE FACT THAT WE CHOOSE NOT TO EAT ANIMAL PRODUCTS DOES NOT INHERENTLY MEAN THAT WE DON'T WANT AN ACTUAL MEAL.  Are you seriously suggesting that your vegan customers simply order a side of steamed broccoli, or dine on preservative-laden pumpernickle bread alone?  If so, you are, quite simply put, a-holes. 

I ate your stupid salad--which, by the way, would have been more worth the $6 you charged me if it had at the very least been made with romaine rather than iceberg lettuce--and went on with my life.  But I refuse to be happy about it.

To be fair to my husband, who just wanted to eat a delicious shrimp appetizer in celebration of his new employment, he, too, was disgusted that there were nearly no options for me to eat.  In fact, he considered going somewhere else, but we'd already started to order and it would have just been a pain in the neck.    It's hard to enjoy your meal when your spouse can't enjoy hers as well.

So listen, Outback Steakhouse people:  You need to get with the program.  Even soup kitchens offer animal free options these days.  When you can't even keep up with the cheapest meal in town, there is something really wrong with you.

In a sick irony, after dinner my husband wanted to get a good cappuccino, so we went to The Root and, go figure, the menu included leftovers from Thursday's raw vegan night, but I'd already eaten a giant bowl of iceberg lettuce and I was too full to bother.  *sigh*

Peanut Butter: The New Class Warfare

Top news tonight on cnn.com was an article about peanut butter.  Yes, I said peanut butter.  Apparently it is about to become so costly that Bill and Melinda Gates are going to have to create a foundation for people who can no longer fit peanut butter into their budgets.  But listen.  I figure that given the conditions of our current political climate, any day where there was nothing more pressing to cover than the fate of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich is a good day, right? 

You can go ahead and read the CNN article if you want, but in spite of a punny teaser on the front page ("Peanut butter prices go up a chunk"), it's really not all that interesting.  To sum it up, it has apparently been a cruddy year for peanut crops, the production of which is down 13%, so this translates to a 40% hike in the rise of peanut butter, which totally makes sense to me.  I mean, I am not particularly well versed in the subject of economics (yawn), but I can totally buy the numbers here.  Anyway, what you really want to read are the reader comments.  Having myself just invested an hour of my life to doing so, I can promise that you won't be disappointed.

However, just in case you don't have that kind of time, I am happy to give you the Spark Notes version.  Thus is born the top ten most fascinating things people have to say about the rise in the cost of peanut butter.  I have to add the disclaimer that this list is in no particular order, as it is approaching 5:00 in the morning and I am just too tired to prioritize. 

1.  "Just grind your own peanuts into peanut butter."  You're joking me, right?  Because clearly only the cost of peanut butter is going to increase, not the actual peanuts from which it is made.  So knock yourself out.  Grind away.  I have no doubt that you will shave tons off of your grocery bill.

2. "Grow your own peanuts."  The squirrels in my neighborhood agree!  They love planting peanuts in my rose garden.  I am sure they would be happy to help you plant the crop that you will be unable to harvest until, oh, next September.  Till up lots of space, because if you've ever seen how many peanuts it takes to make a pint of peanut butter, you are keenly aware that you are about to lose half of your lawn.  Look at the bright side.  At least you don't have to do as much mowing.

3. "I have stocked up on year's supply!"  Wow.  Glenn Beck much?  It's a bad peanut harvest, people, not The Road.  The peanuts will be back next year, I promise.

4. <Insert stupid Jimmy Carter joke here.>

5. Bad puns.  "In this economy, we're all 'working for peanuts!'"  "Talk about a 'smear campaign.'"  "Well if that don't just stick to the roof of your mouth." "That really grinds my nuts."  Somebody make it stop. 

6. "It's class warfare!"  Yes, because only poor people buy peanut butter.  Poor, minority people specifically.  As one reader pointed out, the economically disadvantaged will still be able to purchase it with their WIC benefits.  So if you are living in poverty, do not despair; according to the most enlightened commentary--and this is by far a personal favorite--"No one starves to death in the USA, billions are spent on foodstamps every year, not to mention you can always go to your local food bank" (bad syntax and run on sentence not mine). 

7. "Boycott peanut butter!"  Okay.  Is this really that important to you?  I mean yeah, I totally agree that this is just a bunch of unethical price gouging meant to line the pockets of CEO's so they can buy more beach houses.  But seriously. 

8. "Speculation, supply and demand, commodities...."  zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

9.  "It's because southern states are cracking down on illegal immigration and the crops are rotting because there's no one left to harvest them."  It's amazing, the things Americans can find to pin on the Mexicans, right down to the cost of a jar of Jif.

10.  "It's Obama's fault."  I really don't think I need to explain this one.

I need to give an honorable mention to the reader who asked the question, "isnt night shayde a weed?"  ...Huh?

So there you have it.  The Second Coming is nigh.  The communists (or capitalists, you choose) are coming for your hard earned cash.  Zombies are headed your way right this very moment to eat your brains.  There is only one way to save yourself:

Buy almond butter.

This Halloween, something scary is lurking in the back seat of your car....

"When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened."  ~Winston Churchill

A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that the American Pediatric Association has come up with new guidelines, again, for child car seat regulations.  Don't get me wrong.  I am all about child safety.  I could go on about how back in my day we sunbathed on the ledge in the rear window, sat on our dads' laps so we could steer, or watched the road while straddling the hump, and I could assert that I'm still alive, so what's the harm in letting the kids bounce around the backseat every once in a while?  But I won't because I know that such commentary would be stupid.  Small kids are, as a general rule, safer in carseats than not. 

But let's just face it.  The issue of child safety has shot right past reasonable and into the realm of the absurd. 

My grandmother raised eight children--seven of them boys.  She used to say that the only way she could maintain her sanity was to not watch everything they did.  I'm not recommending that we all throw caution to the wind and just let our kids go free range, but I think there is something valuable to be taken from Grandma's attitude.  The truth is, whether we are watching or not, whether we have taken every precaution known to science or not, bad things could happen, and dwelling on the negative possibilities just isn't healthy for anyone. 

The older I get, the more I am starting to believe that our corporations, lawmakers, and medical professionals rely on parents to harbor irrational fears about the safety of their children.  Why?  To sell more stuff, of course. 

You know, stuff.  Like carseats.  We hear all the experts telling us the whats and hows and whys of carseat rules, such as never borrow another person's carseat, kids need to be in (up to three!) different carseats over the course of their childhoods, kids must be the size of the Incredible Hulk before they are large enough to ride without a carseat, and the latest I've heard is that the "sun breaks down the plastic" and makes the carseats unsafe, so we need to buy new ones every three years.  I have two kids who are 18 months apart and both in carseats, so this means that I am apparently supposed to buy like 6 to 12 carseats over the course of their lifetimes, and at at least $100 a piece (because you know, the more you spend, the safer your child will be).  That's an awful lot of money.  Someone is getting bloody rich off of this.

I'm not really one to blame capitalism for all the world's ills--that's my husband's job (love you, honey!)--but I think some kind of Che Guevara vibe has rubbed off on me because today while I was shopping at Target, I just about got downright angry while walking past the breast pumps.  And I'm not even pregnant.  These things cost a fortune.  Women are expected to have babies and work outside the home and pump breast milk lest they be shirking their maternal responsibilities to a child's health, and apparently they also have to spend an arm and a leg in order to properly fulfill their motherly duties.  You're not supposed to borrow a breast pump--God no!--not even one that has been sterilized.  In fact, your own breastmilk could make your kid extremely ill unless you buy new tubes and gadgets for them every once in a while. 

And the cribs.  I know, I'm a jerk for suggesting that maybe we've gone overboard with the cribs.  But it seems as if every five years there is another reason that we can't hand our cribs down to family or friends, another reason that used cribs are deadly.  I have a crib in my basement that is in perfect condition.  I keep it out of some superstition that the minute I part with it, I will need it again.  And by the time I am ready to give it up, it will likely have to go straight to the landfill because I won't be able to sell it or even give it away because the sides drop and someone could get killed.  I just don't want that on my conscience.

If you let infants sleep on their stomachs, they will die of SIDS, so you need to buy a special sleeping contraption that will keep them from flipping over (my son just kicked his way out of the dang thing).  Using plastic bottles could kill them, so toss all your Playtex Drop-Ins and get glass.  While you are at it, you have the wrong type of bottle nipples and your kid is going to choke.  You need a monitor so that you can hear them from the next room.  And since you're already dropping half your paycheck at Babies-R-Us, you might as well also invest in a leash.

Listen.  We are allowing our wallets and, more importantly, our mental health to be raped.  Not only have parents been frightened into thinking that they need to consume more and "better" stuff than ever before, but they are being told that once they are done with it, they can't share it.  So now we have more people who have more anxiety, who are taking more pills to cope with the fear, who are buying more Chinese made plastic junk designed to allegedy save them from said anxiety, who are helping to put more Americans out of work because foreigners are willing to manufacture said junk for pennies an hour, and who are polluting the earth more than ever when they throw everything in the garbage (and pee out the antidepressants into what eventually becomes our drinking water).

I'm not a conspiracy theorist; I swear.  I don't think the U.S. planned the 9/11 attack and I don't believe in a "New World Order."  But something inside just can't help but wonder who is paying the lawmakers and the doctors to bully us into being the ultimate consumers.  There is no price that can be put on the safety of any child.  But maybe there's a point at which we need to acknowledge that we are not 100% in control of everything that happens, we don't have to allow ourselves to be controlled by the hype, and 99% of everything that we worry about never happens anyway.  Worry is, more often than not, just time wasted that could have been spent enjoying your kids.  Not to mention that interacting positively with your kids is free of charge.

Or maybe I'm just overreacting.  Excuse me while I go research my next carseat purchase.

In the Unlikely Event that Santa Should Come Down My Chimney

Dear Santa:

     First off, Santa, I will not be leaving you cookies.  At least not in the typical sense.  I might whip up some vegan truffles or raw brownies if you're lucky, but really, Kringle, you don't need those dense foods.  I'll give you the chocolate, but you are not allowed milk.  Your treats will be accompanied by a bottle of purified water.  I suggest you get a water filter or invest more in Aquafina to help clear up that ruddiness in your complexion. 

     Now onto my list.  I would like to ask for an upswing in the U.S. economy, shelter for the homeless, free medical care for all, peace in the Middle East, universal education, and an end to racism, genderism, sexism and ageism.  I would also like to ask for love, happiness, tranquility and understanding for all humans.

     But since you can't actually do any of that stuff, and since it's Christmas so it's time to be materialistic and covet expensive gifts that a girl can't afford to buy herself (and who comes from a working/middle class background where nobody else has any money to throw around, either), I'm going leave you a list that you might find more practical.

     First, I want some kitchen stuff.  A Vitamix would be nice, and an Excalibur food dehydrator.  Throw in a juicer while you're at it.  Top it off with a personal raw vegan gourmet chef and that should take care of the kitchen.  Oh--and the husband wants a new microwave.  I really couldn't care less about that, but I should show a little selflessness since it is the holidays and all.

     I would also like a cherry red convertible 1965 Ford Mustang.  Those are frickin' cool.  Make sure the elves have fully restored it, please.  Since the Mustang isn't practical for all Cleveland winters, nor for family driving, I'd like an SUV or a minivan as well.  I know nothing about any cars except muscle cars, so any SUV or minivan will do, I suppose.  The ones that have built in booster seats are a plus.  No televisions.  I want my kids to look at the cows.

     As far as my house goes, please have the elves repaint the entire exterior before you leave, and they'll need to straighten out the front porch steps and do something about the basement brick spalling.  And new windows.  Make sure they are paneled glass like the originals.  Pella is my first choice.  The sidewalk in the back yard could use replaced, but its kinda cold for that type of thing in December so maybe you can just leave me a gift certificate to have some hot, well muscled contractors come out here and take care of that in the summer.  The inside of the house could use a maid and a new boiler system--oh, and some asbestos removal.  Other than that we have things pretty under control.

     Since I would hate to make this all about material things, I would like to add to my list full tuition to attend a yoga teacher training program.  This way maybe I can learn that the real reason for the holidays isn't to line the Nordstroms' pockets, but to learn to love one another and live in peace, connected with the great soul of the world.  And I might get to develop a hot bod, too.  If I could ask you to leave a healthy, toned, size 6 female body under the tree I'd consider it, except that I am afraid of where you would obtain it and if it would cause you to get arrested.  I'd hate to ruin Christmas for all those kids that you had not yet visited on Christmas Eve.

     I'm pretty sure that's it, Santa.  I really appreciate everything you did for me back when I was 8 and you were still coming to my house.  I don't know why you stopped, but if it's something I said, I apologize.  I never meant to hurt you, and I would like to reconcile whatever relationship we have left.  I think that you giving me everything I want is a good start, don't you?

     With love,

     Jennifer

The Curse of the Children's Birthday Party

Let me begin with this disclaimer:  I have friends and family who love to host parties, and who are great with little kids, and I do not begrudge them their choice to throw a big birthday bash whenever it suits them.  My kids have had a great deal of fun at some of these birthday parties, and I am grateful for that.  Far be it from me to criticize a friend for showing generosity to my family.

With that said, I don't do kids' birthday parties at my house, nor do I pay money to have them hosted elsewhere.  Not anymore, anyway.

I will begin with the apolitical reasons why I will never again, under any circumstances, host another children's birthday party in my home.  First of all, the only reason I started inviting school friends to have parties in my home (note, I will not spend $200+ to rent space for this kind of thing) was because we moved away from our hometown when the kids were small, and I felt bad that there was no family nearby to invite.  I didn't even invite that many kids--I think the most I ever invited was ten, the fewest, five.  On my son's 6th birthday, my husband went to great lengths to make a treasure map and bury a real "pirate chest" in our yard so my son could dig it up.  We filled it with real metal doubloons, rhinestone jewelry, and glass and plastic gems.  The neighbor boy, who wants nothing to do with my son except when it comes to birthday parties, took a liking to the treasure and we caught him pocketing some of the coins.  A couple weeks later, said neighbor boy came over to play, and when he left, all the jewelry in the treasure chest was gone.  I never did get up the nerve to ask his mother if she would look for it.  It was too awkward.  Then came my daughter's 5th birthday.  After it was over, I went up to her bedroom to find nearly everything she owned strewn all over the floor and nail polish spilled into her rug.  I nearly had a panic attack over it; my husband had to clean it up for me so I wouldn't have to be hauled off in a straight jacket.

Destruction and theft aside, I just can't handle that many kids in my house.  I teach teenagers, and I can tell you with 100% honesty that I would much sooner have 20 teenagers in my home than five kindergarteners.  Little kids run, they scream, they make a mess, they cry, they fight, they let their noses run all over everything, and they pee their pants.  I spend five hours of my life preparing for the party, two hours suffering through it, and 48 hours recovering from shock.  Birthday parties turn me into a raving lunatic.  No thank you.

Now onto my liberal hippie commentary.... When I was a kid (I know, I'm getting old when I start using that cliche), my mother invited grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins to come have a simple cake and ice cream party.  People would usually bring gifts, but certainly were not made to feel obligated. There was no Chuck-E-Cheese, no Little Gym, no McDonald's Playland, no big barbeque fiesta at the local public pool.  We hosted parties in our homes, and that was that. 

Now that I have children of my own, it seems things have changed.  Now you can't simply offer a cake and some ice cream anymore.  Parents are expected to buy party favors, pinatas, and dinner as well.  Today's birthday parties dictate that there be games with prizes, and that the kids will be supplied with craft supplies to make sock puppets, or icing to decorate cookies.  Giant inflatable moonwalk attractions are rented.  Every damn kid in the school is invited, not just close friends.  And home parties aren't good enough anymore.  The cool kids' parents rent space in public places--at museums, at the zoo, at the local crappy restaraunt--for hundreds of dollars.  If a kid is lucky enough to have parents who will throw away that kind of cash, they are guaranteed more guests at their parties.  Even the kids who don't like you will show up if your party is being held at an amusement park and all expenses are paid.  All it costs is the price of a gift.

And let's talk about the gifts.  Why don't we just send our money directly to China, or throw it into a furnace?  So you get 30 people to show up to your party--this means at least 30 gifts, usually more, because some parents feel the need to buy multiple gifts for children that they do not know and to whom they have no particular attachment.  So now little Sam or Sally gets all this crap that he or she will most likely lose interest in within 20 minutes, or that will break within a week. 

We have taken a day that is supposed to be a celebration of life and we have turned it into a cheap, consumerist, gluttonous freak show.  We spend boatloads of money to fill children with high fructose corn syrup and Crisco, top it off with a side of Kool-Aid, and then wonder why the kids in this culture have type-2 diabetes and too many extra pounds. Why not just save the money and the bullcrap, take the kid out for a proper dinner at a decent restaurant, and buy the kid a high quality gift that he or she really desires and that can be enjoyed for longer than a week?

So here's what it boils down to, at least for me.  I refuse to teach my kids that birthdays are all about stuffing your face with frosting, bribing guests with baggies filled with cheap toys, or seeing how many presents you can get.  I want them to see that birthdays are about sharing time with close friends and family to celebrate the fact that you are alive, that you are loved, and that you are worth more than what any amount of money can buy. 

Food in a SNAP

I was just reading a friend's blog post about "Food Stamps" (or as we call it now, the "Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program" [SNAP])," and apparently there is real talk of extending SNAP benefits to cover fast food restaurants (See Write On, Jana!).  The logic here is that "Fast food costs less than 'real' food," an argument that I am no longer willing to swallow.  There are already restrictions on what a person can buy while using government assistance, and I can see both sides of the coin.  On the one hand, people should be primarily free to eat what they want in a free society.  On the other hand, if they are receiving public assistance, there should be some regulations that insure that the money is being used as it was intended (not on cigarettes and beer, for example).  
I humbly suggest that, if making educated and perhaps mildly inconvenient choices, people can eat nutritious, whole foods with their food stamp allowances.

Here's what I cannot wrap my head around.  According to the SNAP website, my family would receive approximately $566 per month if we needed food assistance.  I currently spend up to (on the high end) $200 on groceries per trip--I generally go twice a month--and then extra on an as needed basis for things needed more often, like milk and juice.  The way I see it, $566 per month and we would eat like kings; and anyone who knows me knows that I have become a food snob and that I choose whole, organic foods whenever it is in the budget.  So maybe what people need is not access to buy fast food with SNAP benefits, but education on how to shop more wisely. 

I can see potential drawbacks.  I am fortunate enough to have reliable transportation (at least for now...cross fingers) and gas money.  I still have credit should I absolutely need to charge a car repair or gasoline in a pinch.  So I can afford to drive 10 miles to Trader Joe's for several things, drive back toward home and stop at Target and Aldi, and trot up the street to the local healthy food place to pick up some local produce.  I have access to a seasonal program called "City Fresh" here in my town where families who qualify for food assistance get organic CSA shares for half price.  I can get free food once a month at the local produce distribution in my neighborhood.  Not everyone has those advantages.  Maybe they have fewer choices than I do.

But maybe instead of trying to come up with quick ways to pump more calories into the economically disadvantaged, we need to be asking a different question:  How do we help those without regular, reliable transportation get where they need to go to feed their families in the most nutritious way possible with the least amount of expense?  Or better yet, can we find a way to bring the food closer to them?   I know my husband's grandmother, who lives in Toledo, Ohio, uses a service for the elderly where a van comes and picks her up and takes her shopping around town for several hours on a particular day of the week.  I acknowledge that she does have to spend a couple of dollars to use this service.  Is it too much to suggest offering transportation as part of the SNAP program?  Perhaps even child care services for parents to make their shopping trips quicker and easier?  Yeah, I know.  Everything in this country is contingent on the ol' "dollars and cents" argument.  I have a few radical leftist ideas about the country's budget, but that would be a digression and is best saved for another post.

And if we're going to talk about how to best appropriate taxpayer money, let's consider that unhealthy food choices lead to poor health and disease, which lead to more people needing expensive medical care.  The poor have a couple of choices.  They can choose not to get the medical care they need--which should not have to be ANYBODY'S choice in a country as rich as the United States--or they can choose to get said medical care and just not pay for it when the bill arrives.  The latter case means higher health care and insurance costs for everyone else because those industries have to make up for their losses somewhere.  So if you're against universal health care because you don't want to pay for other people's doctor bills, think again; you already are.  Over the long term, helping people make healthy food purchases is more economical for everyone when we consider the high cost of being sick in this country.   And really, let's just have a heart for a minute and ponder the idealistic notion that you can't put a price on the health and well-being of a fellow human.

In the end, it all comes down to choices.  We can choose to keep buying Ho-Hos because they are $3.50 per box, or we can spend that $3.50 on a 3 lb bag of organic apples instead, and we'd be no worse for the wear.  In fact, we'd be less hungry in the long run because most junk food contains ingredients that just make us more hungry, make our food cravings stronger, than if we were making healthier choices.  Once the cycle of soda and sugary snacks is broken, the new food habits are pretty easy to maintain.  Maybe this means that the family doesn't get to eat red meat very often, or that cheese becomes a luxury rather than a necessity.  Eating less meat and dairy--the two most costly food expenses, in my opinion--wouldn't really hurt most people.  Maybe the kids' idea of an awesome lunch does not boil down to raw almond butter on whole wheat, some carrots, and a banana, but... (1) They'll get used to it; my kids regularly beg for carrots now to the point that I can barely keep them stocked in the house (note--$2 for a 3 lb bag).  And (2) If the family can't afford the luxury of letting the kids buy pizza and ice cream every day in the cafeteria (which is exactly what my kids do if I let them buy their lunches), well, kiddos, that's just life.  I don't get to eat king crab legs, and you don't get to have school pizza.  We all make sacrifices; Few of us die martyrs to the cause. 

A Day at the Zoo; or, "Why the Amish Have it Right and the Rest of Us Are Idiots"

I shall begin by telling you that I really don't like going to the zoo.  It's not that I dislike animals; I have just never gotten any real pleasure out of walking around on hard pavement all day staring at animals in cages.  Okay, I admit that once or twice I have gotten a laugh out of seeing the orangutans "get it on," or watching 4 monkeys take a poo simultaneously (for real).  But as an overall rule, I kind of loathe going to the zoo. 

Somehow I have given birth to a couple of kids who love the zoo.

So I suck it up and I take them to the zoo.  It's a nice day, and Boy Scouts and their siblings and parents get in free.  (But not until they go thru a series of lessons on how to sell more popcorn for the Boy Scouts--cheap move there.)  I'm tired this weekend, I have a lot of grading to do, I have 4 cabbages that need turned into sauerkraut or something before they rot, I have a 25 lb bag of beets that I need to dehydrate into chips or something before they start to sprout, and I actually feel a little sick.  I also have $3.79 left in my checking account, I don't get paid until Friday, and I barely have enough gas to get to and from work two days this week (luckily Rosh Hashanah means I get three days off).  But you know, parents make sacrifices.

What I am trying to tell you is that I really didn't want to go to the zoo.

So we get there and the first thing the kids do is ask for an Icee.  Let me take that back.  Talia asks for an Icee.  Gavin doesn't ask for anything.  He just drops hints that he wants something.  (e.g. "I sure am thirsty, Mom.")  This is before I realize that I only have $3.79 in my checking account, so I go to the Icee kiosk--I figure I can spare the cash since getting in was free and all--and I make the attempt to purchase two blue Icees.  I hand over the debit card.  "We only take cash here."  I'm screwed.  So I tell the kids we will have to wait for another time, and Gavin is really good about it, disappointed as he was, but Talia--oh, Talia.  She's telling me it's my fault, that I'm mean, she's crying and throwing herself at my feet.  Now keep in mind that I am already (a) not feeling well, (b) feeling like I *should* be home doing school work, and (c) crabby because I hate the zoo.  I probably sound like a real bitch the way I am dealing with her, when over comes this Amish girl, maybe 18 or so, and she asks, "Would you let us buy them for you?"

I'm a little floored.  At first I decline, then I accept.  My kid doesn't deserve to have her behavior rewarded, but here's this nice Amish family (who is smart enough to use cash instead of electronic transfers, by the way) trying to help me, and I figure, well, I'd better not insult them, and really, they are about to make my life a little easier.  I accept.  Gavin asks me if they are from the 1800's.  Funny you should ask that, Gavin....

This experience prompts me to think about a few things.

The zoo was flooded with Amish people today, and I did not hear one of them snap at their children.  I did not see one of them looking rushed or agitated.  I did not see any of their kids running around like little jerks or acting like spoiled brats.

And as I was trying to explain what I know of their way of life to my son, I started to ponder the way we live.

We are rushed all the time.  We are working all the time.  Examples?  Today (a Saturday, mind you) as I was entering essay grades on our school's online gradebook, I noticed that there is an iPad app that teachers can download so they can enter grades anytime, anywhere.  And I think, "Why would I want to be able to work ALL THE TIME, from ANYWHERE?"  It reminds me of my dad coming here for vacation and always having his cell phone ring, always being on his laptop, working while he's supposed to be resting.

If I didn't have to work full time (plus, when you consider the hours I put in from home)... if my family lived together and we were all able to help each other (in fact, if my family were all nice to each other at the very least)... if I didn't have to worry about paying ridiculous rates for insurance, or about covering the stupid cell phone bill... if I didn't have a car for which I had to buy gas, if I didn't have to worry about when it is going to finally die on me... if I had the time to pay attention to my kids the way they deserve... if I weren't so stressed out from the ways of modern life that I felt on the verge of sickness and exhaustion all the time... would I be more like those Amish people?  Would I stop snapping at my kids, would I stop seeing the glass as half empty, would I stop needing to take Wellbutrin to stay sane, Ambien to fall asleep, and Ativan to keep me from going into a panic?

I can sew.  I'll wear the damn plain clothes and spend my days tending vegetables and canning seasonal fruits.  Gavin would look cute in suspenders.  I'm quick with languages--bring on the Pennsylvania Dutch.  I could do that if it meant that I didn't have to live every moment of my life as if impending doom were around the corner, if it meant that I could be with people who believed in living as a true community, if it meant slowing down and just breathing.  Heck, I'd even go to church every Sunday and read the Bible to the kids.

Tonight before they went to bed, I told the kids they need to remember those Amish people ALWAYS.  They need to remember that those people were kind to complete strangers, that they owed nothing to any of us.  And I told my kids that those people are good people, and I want them to grow up to be good people, too.

How big is the price of modern convenience?

I don't know for sure--but I can tell you that I, and my family, are paying it.  With interest.

Out of Time

Americans eat crap and don't exercise because they ran out of time.  They ran out of time because we live in the kind of society where we are expected to work ourselves silly to live in an overpriced culture where we are offered very little social support structure.  I must have spent two hours in the kitchen today between making dinner and tomorrow's lunches.  I could have heated some chicken nuggets, or bought a $5 pizza at Little Caesars, or boiled up some Hebrew Nationals (you know, the hot dog that masquerades around as if it were good for you), but instead I chose to make real, whole food from scratch.  This was after I spent 1.25 hours driving home from work beause every single expressway on my way home was stop and go traffic--probably the result of more people going and getting themselves in a darn hurry...probably over something that's not even all that important in the grand scheme of things.  And now I am too tired (and it's kinda late) for any kind of physical activity.  For all the healthy food I eat, I feel the stress belly growing anyway.  I have said it once and I'll say it again--I don't know how stay home parents can get bored unless they are feeding their kids fast food every day and/or have the money to hire a maid.  My house hasn't had a thorough cleaning in months.  My desires are few.  I want a healthy family, daily yoga, someone to give my house a good, deep cleaning once a week, time for leisure reading, someone to deal with the bills for me, and pedicures.  I've never had a pedicure and I think I deserve one.

My kids don't get the attention they deserve because I am always running out of time.  Either they are getting away with all kinds of videocy so that I can get my school work done in peace, or I am blowing off school work so that I can be a real mom and do something with my kids.  Tonight, feeling guilty that we haven't read a bedtime story in three weeks, I suckered Gavin into reading a story to his sister while I sat here in the dining room making a graphic illustration explaining Hemingway's Code Hero.  I justify it this way--he's getting practice reading, she's getting the attention from him that she wants, and I am preparing for my next day of teaching.  Multitasking, everyone is happy, right?

Time turns me into a nervous wreck.  Either I'm too far behind, or I'm worrying myself silly about something that may or may not happen in the distant future, or I feel like I am running just behind the eight ball.
Time gives people heart attacks and strokes and indigestion and digestive diseases.  It gives us mood disorders for which we buy pills just to keep ourselves moderately sane and moving right along so that, God forbid, we don't lose a day of work (that one day that just might help us recuperate) because someone else needs us to make them some money.  So their wives can go to yoga and get pedicures and hire Alice to cook and clean for their kids.

You may see a trend emerging--my jealousy of stay-at-home-parents.  In the seventies, Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem wanted us ladies to feel as if we had somehow been liberated by the women's rights movement.  I say we've only succeeded in trapping us into more work and responsibility than we had before we were "liberated."