Locavore Wannabes.

I just finished reading one of my favorite books of all time: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver. It completes my personal trilogy of far left, liberal, commie-socialist-pinko, environmentally wacko books I started reading last year about food and life style choices that propose these radical ideas: eat real food, eat food that has been grown locally as best you can, minimize chemicals/preservatives/additives in your food, and eat meats that are responsibly and humanely raised.
I know, I know: it's CRAZY talk.

But this book and the others have changed my ideas and goals of how to feed not only myself, but the three little people in my house whom I am responsible to nourish. (Dan has to go along, too, or buy/cook/cleanup after his own meals.) It makes wonderful sense, is incredibly healthy and non-restrictive, and encourages kids to get into the process of choosing and preparing meals. And, yeah, it''s good for the environment.
I could go on and on about how it's changed me, but I won't. What I will tell you is that the book is about a family's goal to grow as much of their own food as possible for the year and how it all worked out. It contains great recipes, inspirational explanations of why they chose to do this, and tells hilarious stories of being totally overwhelmed by zucchini and tomatoes in August and how they dealt with it as well as answering the question: if you grow your own food, what do you eat in February? It is funny, touching, real, and makes you really think about what you feed yourself and your children.

It does not propose that you plant a huge garden, become vegetarian, or give up sweets. But... you can frequent farmer's markets, buy meat from local family farms, and make your own goodies.

I am planning to incorporate some of these ideas into our daily eating life and will update you throughout the summer on my attempts. In the meantime, get the book from your library and enjoy a great read.

Seriously, get it out. Like, today. It's AWESOME.

Yesterday.

Yesterday was a particularly challenging parenting day, filled with lots of energy and chaos of playdates and somewhat obnoxious attitudes and bad behavior and threats of consequences and Long Talks in Cars About Future Behavior While Trying to Maintain A Normal Speaking Tone of Voice While the Other Person is Crying.

Yesterday was the kind of day that I said to Dan, "I worry about how Michaela and I are going to get along in about 5 years or so."

His reply: "Me, too."

Yesterday was a day in which I asked myself a hundred times, What would my parents do? What would they have thought if this were happening to them?

Yesterday was a day that Michaela told me for the first time, "I'm not speaking to you!" with as much vehemence as she could muster, then about 20 minutes later asked me to lay down on my bed and read to her. Two picture books.

Yesterday was the kind of day that I worried that I am not doing my job of raising a full-spirited, whole-feeling child particularly well. Yesterday I worried that I was- at the same time- doing too much and not enough. Then I stuck to my guns and felt like I did the right things.

Yesterday was a day that I was glad to have my Ace in the Hole, should I ever have to use it: a spare bedroom at my parents' house.

Yesterday was a day in which I wasn't sure if I'd send Michaela to use that bedroom... or take it for myself.

Yesterday was a tough parenting day. But we got through it. And it certainly won't be the last.

A letter to the Easter Bunny.

Date: Easter Sunday, 2010
To: Mr. Easter Bunny (aka Cottontail, Peter)
3647 Bunny Trail


Re: Easter Baskets, 2010

Dear Mr. Bunny:

It has come to my attention by my eight year old daughter, Michaela, that you may have chosen our home to be "the last one of the night" that you visited. This was determined by said eight year old by the relatively weak contents (her words, not mine) of her Easter basket: (1) DVD of Alvin and the Chipmunks Squeakquel; (1) small-sized Russell Stover bunny rabbit, chocolate, and (7) M&M funsize packets, which she has declared that "I don't even really like."

Mr. Bunny, this is unacceptable.

We left out carrots AND ranch dip for you on our hallway table.

Everyone is aware that though Easter is actually a religious holiday that our family embraces for its holy meaning, it is clearly an opportunity to celebrate Christmas-type gift giving in April. Yes, the DVD was a nice touch, but really: no other gifts? No stuffed animals? No large chocolate rabbits? No clothing, jewelry, dolls, books, pajamas, art supplies, etc?

At least you could have brought candy that my daughter actually likes. Sure, she has several thousand dollars worth of orthodontic work in her mouth right now that limit what she can eat, but come on. Throw the kid a bone here. Or at least a peanut butter cup.

It's bad enough that her mother spent the last few weeks running around, planning and packing for five people to travel halfway across the country and back, coordinated Easter five outfits, wrote out and sent Easter cards, and attended six weeks worth of Lenten church services, all while caring for a six month old, four year old, and eight year old while also keeping the house clean and neat in case a potential buyer came along. (Rumor has it that she was crawling up in the attic at 10pm on Saturday, looking for the Easter baskets that you should have filled more generously.) We depend on you, Mr. Bunny, to pick up the slack here and a modest basket just isn't going to cut it.

Please contact your schedulers to move our house up on the list for next year. We will refrain from any further action this year, though it was disappointing, but you leave us no choice should this weak showing occur again next year.

Sincerely,
Cheryl Libutti

Spring has Sprung.

Ahhhhhhhh.... Spring.

Our forsythia are juuuuuust about to bloom.

Alec took his first ride in our swingset and couldn't decide if he loved it or just wanted to get out and take his morning siesta.

Notice the scratches on his face? Mother of the year here was carrying him on her back yesterday and misjudged how low a tree branch was at Michaela's school and clocked him... right in the face. Yikes. Luckily, he doesn't seem to be holding it against me. (I do think I get extra credit Mom Points for walking down to Michaela's school to pick her up with him on my back. I swear Alec was a Native American baby in a past life... there is nothing he loves more than being in that backpack, like a papoose.)

I love how Jenna copied Michaela's outfit as best she could... pink shirt, rolled up jeans, hat and sandals. I adore that kid.

Who am I kidding? I adore ALL those kids.

Independence Grove.

One of my favorite things we did this past weekend at my brother and sister in law's house was visit Independence Grove. It is a mammoth-sized park, with every possible outdoor fun you can imagine. Want to take a walk or bike ride? They've got long, winding, paved trails to explore. Want to play on a playground? The huge playground there has multiple play stations, a cave for kids to explore, a gentle rock wall to climb, and it's all bedded underneath by the recycled rubber mulch... super squishy and soft. You can also swim in the lake, relax on the beach, boat, fish, grab a bite to eat at the cafe, sit on one of the hundreds of benches, or enjoy the fountain in the summer. I can hardly wait to go back.

"Who pays for all of this?" I asked my brother. It's run by the county he lives in, which has a commission whose specific purpose is to buy up land and preserve it as open space... fun open space.

I was astounded at who nice it was, how well-thought-out, and the sheer size of it.

I also thought that if you wanted to give families a great option to be together, enjoy the outdoors and exercise their kids and themselves a little, this would be the perfect spot to do it. Places like this could cure a whole lotta ills this country is wrestling with.