one good thing 2/28

in a new year effort to be more mindful of how I am living my life and to be more joyful with my life, I've decided to post one good thing a day. One good thing, everyday.

If you feel inspired to do the same (and I hope that you do!) please feel free to leave your good thing, or a link, in the comments below.

These two, actually getting along. Even if it means I'll be finding the socks they are supposed to be matching under and behind furniture for weeks. 

school lunch

 During my week of nothing, my kids bought lunch far more than usual. We usually limit buying to once a week, and for the past two weeks they've bought probably 3 times a week.

When I was little, we got hot lunch on Friday. It was usually Pizza Hut or something equally healthy. If you forgot to bring your lunch any other day, you got a PB&J and milk. The kids school offers hot lunch everyday. It's your typical school lunch menu - with attempts at being healthier (salads, fruit etc . . .) but I'm pretty sure it's not the fruit that's enticing the kids to buy. A favorite is the popcorn chicken which I am fairly certain is not popcorn and likely not chicken.

So, why in the world do I go through the trouble and expense of buying local grassfed meats, of spending an insane amount of time preparing scratch meals . . . and then send my kids to school with 2 bucks to buy whatever over processed food-like product is being served on the lunch line that day?

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Well, because it's easy. It's made even easier by the fact that I don't have to send them with real, actual dollars. I can go online and add money from my bank account to their lunch account. Yup - they have pin numbers and can buy lunch without ever holding the money.

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Which means, that my 7 year old has been buying breakfast every morning at school. After having breakfast at home. We always joked he was like a hobbit - having more than one breakfast is not unusual for him, he often has first breakfast and second breakfast. Sometimes there is a third breakfast.

Anyway, having money on a card, instead of in your hand - means that my 7 year old has no concept of buying lunch. Or breakfast. So when I checked his account the other day, wondering where in the world 20 bucks went to already - I found that it went a dollar a day to breakfast, 1.75 to lunch on more days than normal and 65 cents to ice cream. Even on the days I take the time and care to pack a balanced healthy lunch - guess what else he's eating? Ice cream. Awesome.

Even better, while cleaning out my 12 year olds lunch bag, I've noticed he's coming home with cookie wrappers and doritio wrappers. And it's not on his lunch account. Which means he's trading or just getting these treats from other kids. Well, that's just awesome too.

But back to why they even have money on their accounts in the first place. It started with them being able to buy on my early Wednesdays - every other Wednesday I have to leave for work right after they get on the bus. It was easier to not have to deal with packing a lunch (since I'm not home till 9:30 the night before) and it was a treat for them.

But. Then sometimes I'm lazy. I mean, I'm just having a really hard time doing the morning thing. I get home from work at 9:30, I'm usually asleep by 11. Then I drag myself out of bed at 6:30. I need way more sleep I think. I wish I could be a morning person, but I'm just not. Not yet.

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And sure, I could pack the lunches the night before. You know, when I get home from a 10 hour day at 9:30 pm, but remember the part where I said I was lazy. Yeah. I just don't want to pack lunches when I walk in the door. And my husband can do them, and does but remember where I also said I've turned into a control freak? He doesn't pack lunches as good as I do. Clearly my lunches are fantastic, since my kids never want to buy lunch and never trade with their friends and . . . oh wait.


So what's a busy some-what health conscious mom to do?

I've seen the bento boxes and they are awesome and clever  . . .

 well, that's one way to get them to eat!

and so not me. I can barely slap together some peanut butter and some bread!


A typical lunch is:

PB&J or crackers and cheese and pepperoni, or leftover chili or soup in a thermos.
Carrots and ranch or apples and PB or salad and dressing
homemade cookies or chips
mozzarella stick or yogurt
water

I wouldn't want to eat that everyday either, it's freaking boring. I need help! I've looked and looked for lunch ideas, but am still having a hard time. Share with me lunch ideas! I'd love some make ahead/freezer sort of things for the mornings I'm feeling lazy.

We all know how great I am with goals I set, but I'm going to try some new lunch ideas and report back here every week or two. I can't be the only parent with lunch troubles!

quote for the week.

 It's not only children who grow.  Parents do too.  As much as we watch to see what our children do with their lives, they are watching us to see what we do with ours.  I can't tell my children to reach for the sun.  All I can do is reach for it, myself.  ~Joyce Maynard

Happy 12th birthday Evan. 

quote for the week.

It takes a long time to grow an old friend.  ~John Leonard

Saturday night I spent some time at a surprise 30th birthday party for an old High School friend. I've known every person in this photo for 15+ years. It's very comforting coming back to old friends and feeling like you still know each other, like there was a momentary pause in your history instead of half decade or more gap. Or to take moments like this as a gift in a time of changing lives and friendships. 

These children have all known each other since birth.  I have so many pictures of them through the years, and it's probably a good thing that I have none of those pictures on this computer, otherwise this would turn into a novel length post during which I recount every cute and touching story and cry over all the pictures of them growing up.

Instead I'll share just this one. My son is 7 months younger than the oldest of the group. I was very good friends with his mother so by default the kids were all friends. When my friends son was 6 he was diagnosed with Aspergers. He has some social ineptness, but is really one of the kindest, most gentle, most interesting little boys I have ever met. When the kids were young, it wasn't a big deal. Evan barely even noticed. It was just who his friend was, he wasn't different - he was just himself. A few years ago Evan began to pick up on it. He said to me one day "Mom, J**** isn't really like everyone else is he? But that's ok, cause he's just J****".

Over the years we've seen less and less of my friend and her children. We used to see them almost every day. But as we've grown and our kids have grown and we've moved and life fills up it's turned into once every several months.  

Last year, we moved and Evan invited a bunch of new friends from the new school to his sleepover birthday party, along with his old friend J*. Now as they've gotten older, it's become much more apparent that J* is not at the same social level as other kids his age. Sadly, 11 year old boys aren't always kind and they teased J* quite a bit. 

So this year, when asking Evan what he would like to do for his birthday party - either have a bunch of friends over, or take 2 friends and go to dinner and have a sleepover - he chose 2 friends for a sleepover.  I was expecting him to choose the 2 boys he became the closest to over the last year at school.  He decided, without hesitation that he wanted to invite J*, but wasn't sure who the 2nd person would be yet, since as he said "my friends weren't very nice to him last year".

I would not have thought much about it if he had made a different choice. I wouldn't have been disappointed. Times changed, friendships change and pre-teens can be pretty self-centered. I'm pretty proud of him for making the choice he did. For valuing his lifelong friendships. More importantly, for noticing that what happened last year was wrong. I know that it's not always easy for a 12 year old boy to make that sort of choice. 

I've had some worrisome moments as Evan becomes a pre-teen. He can be rude and snooty and very teenage-ry.  I know we're going to have some difficult moments over the next few years. And I hope I remember the time, that without hesitation, he made the choice to not only hold onto an old friend, but to help protect him. 


And a second quote, just because it's running through my head. We sang this all the time in Girl Scouts!

Make new friends,
but keep the old.
One is silver,
the other is gold.

A circle is round,
it has no end.
That's how long,
I will be your friend.

back to school!

 Today was the first day of classes for the boys. 7th grade (middle school!) and 2nd. My goodness, how fast they've grown.

Last year they at least would pose (however silly!) for first day of school pictures. This year I had to beg and plead for some pictures - this year I didn't get not-a-one good picture!

We're back on our 'normal' schedule meaning I'm back to working crazy hours and all the boys are back in school. I hate it (the hours I work) but it's the closest to normal we get - the whole summer was spent not quite getting it together, despite my 'normal' 7-3:30 Mon-Fri work week.

The hardest part is only seeing them for a short while in the mornings on the days I work, then not at all the rest of the day.

The best part is having some time each week with The Husband and the kids in school so I can run errands, or bake and cook, and sometimes even relax!

Now that summer is winding down, Evan is feeling better, and our version of normal has returned I hope to be back in this space more often!

See you soon!

blur.

The last several days have all melted into one. I've mentioned how busy this time of year is for us. My overtime at work began last week too. Saturday I came home from work at 6:30,super excited for dinner since I had splurged on raviolis and sauce and stuffed bread at the farmers market that morning. Dinner was on the table when I walked in and my oldest was on the couch crying in pain.

Evan had just gotten home the day before from a two week visit at his paternal grandparents in North Carolina. They had taken him to our state fair in the morning and in the afternoon a mild headache started. It's not that unusual for that to happen after his once yearly visit to N. Carolina. He stays up late, eats junk food and gets spoiled rotten and comes home out of sorts and emotional and over tired every year. So we didn't think much of it at first. Ibuprofen had seemed to calm his headache Friday night and when I left for work Saturday he was sleeping.

So Saturday when I got home and he was crying on the couch we had it chalked up to a vacation hangover. My husband said he had been crying off and on most of the day,  and he had given him Ibuprofen in the morning, so we tried another dose. After he took it he asked me to call the doctor. As we were waiting for a return call, he got sick. We thought it was from the Ibuprofen. The doctor called, I explained what was going on and she asked if he could touch his chin to his chest. He couldn't, but I had no idea what that meant. She told me with a headache that severe for several hours to bring him into the ER. The Husband already had a gig scheduled with his band, I told him to go ahead. I figured Evan was just dehydrated and would spend a few hours at the ER and we'd go home. The Husband brought our youngest to his parents house and we dashed off in separate directions with dinner still on the table.

At the ER they got us in immediately, which was unusual, but I was grateful because he was in so much pain. When the doctor came in she was asking about tick bites (he's had several), diabetes in the family, said his ears were both swollen and maybe it was bilateral ear infections. Then she asked him to touch his chin to his chest. He still couldn't. She looked up at me startled and asked if I knew he couldn't do that. I told her the dr. on the phone had asked me that too, but I didn't know what it meant. Next thing I knew people were coming in with masks and gowns and putting quarantine signs on his door. They hooked him up to an IV and started giving him morphine for the pain. We got in to the ER around 7:30 on Sat. night and this was all happening by probably 8pm.

So now, I'm freaking out, because I'm here alone with him and I am terrible in emergencies. Seriously, I am the worst person to have around in any sort of crisis. I've been working a ton of overtime and I'm just exhausted, so in addition to being craptastic in emergencies, I'm also super tired and so now I'm crying and looking like a totally incapable mother.


Apparently  not being able to touch your chin to your neck is an indication of meningitis. I didn't even know what that meant, but it was clearly serious. Over the next couple of hours they did blood work, cat scans and a lumbar puncture. By 3am Evans dad had been in and out and Kevin had finished his gig and came in. I was working my way through several extra large coffees. At 3 they let us know they were going to admit him, and we'd be getting a room shortly. I was supposed to be working a 12 hour shift Sunday morning. At 6am, I left the ER (still waiting on a room) to stop at work and let them know what was going on and go home and get a few hours sleep and a shower while Kev was there.

Since then everything is a blur. It's hard to keep track of what day it is most of the time. We're incredibly lucky that we have an amazing state of the art childrens hospital here. We've been staying at Golisano Childrens Hospital. There are two gorgeous childrens floors with every accommodation you could think of available. Evan has had his own room (which was quarantined until yesterday, but I think all rooms are singles) a flat screen TV, private bathroom, PS3 with a library for movies and games. The staff and the care level are really exceptional.

I've been averaging about 4 hours of sleep a night staying at the hospital all day every day with an exception of about 2-3 hours a day during which I go home and shower and change. Work has been amazing and covered all my shifts this week. I know it's a lot of extra work for them too since it's opening and everyone is already overworked and exhausted.

We're waiting on the bacterial cultures to come back and they're hoping to discharge him today, but I don't know for sure. He had a rough night last night and needed more morphine. Today he's back on Tylenol but he's slept all day and the hour he was awake didn't want to eat, drink, watch tv or anything. Today has not been a good day. Yesterday he was up and walking a little bit for the first time since this all started, and it might have just taken to much out of him.

So. That's what's been going on with us the last several days. Oh and I have 30 lbs of tomatoes I got Sat. morning planning on processing that night. They're probably rotting on my counter. School starts next week and I haven't finished shopping. I'm supposed to be hosting a bachelorette party on Friday at my house. I don't really have the time to be taking a week off of work and I don't know how it's going to affect the rest of my years benefit time (which doesn't reset until next July). Everyone tells me not to worry, just to focus on Evan, and I pretty much am. I mean, I'm not going to work, I've thrown all the party info completely in someone elses lap. The days will come and go, and things will either get done or not get done. And while I'm in the hospital all day everyday, and obviously Evan is my first concern, of course I worry and think about these other things. I mean, the rest of the world is still spinning, even if it doesn't look like it from this 12th floor window.

Summer Days . . .

Are anything but lazy!

 

 

 

Colin finished up his first season of baseball, and we rolled right into lacrosse.

Turns out they both have games on Tuesday nights at 7 - in different locations. That should be interesting. Evan had opening day last Saturday and of course I forgot my camera. I remembered for his game this week, but they canceled it due to lightening. 

Both boys are number 15 for lacrosse, which is pretty neat - but what's even cooler is that was The Husbands jersey number for years and years when he played soccer. Well, I think it's cool anyway.

It's getting to be so they always have a lacrosse stick in their hands. Which is not a bad thing - especially since where we live is so big on lacrosse.

And Evan 'graduated' from 6th grade. Oh, boy. More to come on that later. Seems every time I blink another year has gone by.

 

When we moved in, I knew there were some wild black raspberry bushes out back, turns out they pretty much border our woods most of the way around (and in). I wish I had enough to make jam, I'm wondering if I can transplant some of the bushes to other areas to encourage more growth - I've heard they spread pretty easily, and we have plenty of space for them to spread to, especially if it means wild, free fruit. Recipes to follow in a few days.

 

The garden is coming along nicely - I'm surprised everything hasn't died yet! Those flowers in the hanging basket did. I can never get those darn things to stay alive. Turns out I do pretty well with in ground stuff though, for my first real year in ground gardening - everything is still alive! I need more tomato supports and I kinda just hooked together some branches for the peas - I need to get more supports for those too . . .

 

 I recently learned there's an indoor skate park not far from us - might be good for rainy days. We've got plenty of land - but no good space to skate, not like when we were in the neighborhood. 

So that's a bit of what we've been up to. I'm loving my summer work schedule - it's nice to be home at dinner every night, but man it wipes me out. I usually need a 20 minute nap when I get home. Before, I got home at 9:30pm and I relaxed for just a bit before going to bed. Now, getting home at 4 it's like I still have a full day ahead of me - running around for sports, cooking dinner, cleaning etc . . . it's exhausting. I need to win the lottery so I can stay home. I guess I'd need to play the lottery for that to happen though. 

I can't believe it's the end of June already - it feels like summer's half over - though it's only just begun. I need to be very careful to not get sucked into the busy-ness of everything and to make sure I'm spending as much time as possible napping in the yard, drinking homemade rhuabarb soda (with vodka for the grown-ups!), having picnics, reading books, and maybe even braving a swimming suit this year and getting in the water!

"What is one to say about June, the time of perfect young summer, the fulfillment of the promise of the earlier months, and with as yet no sign to remind one that its fresh young beauty will ever fade."

-  Gertrude Jekyll

I have no idea what I'm doing.

This post was originally started a few weeks ago and saved as a draft. I have a few of those. I start typing about something and just can't get it out quite right. Originally this post started because I was wondering how much I've screwed up my kids already. Now I'm coming back to it because they're driving me crazy. Either way - it's the same idea. I have no idea what I'm doing.

I hope my kids make it to adulthood without too much emotional damage.

I was a young mother. I have few regrets about being a mom so young, only that there were so many things I didn't know. So many things I thought I knew, but didn't hold strong to. I made many mistakes. I still make many mistakes. I'll always make mistakes. I just hope none of them will have my sons future girlfriends musing about how much I ruined them. Unless of course, it's how I left them unable to buy something pre-packaged without checking the label, or how they compare my cooking to their girlfriends/wives. I'm ok with that. Sue me. :)

It's funny, sort of. Everyone warned me how hard being a mother would be. But it wasn't, really. It was easy, most of the time. You changed them and fed them and loved them and held them. Sometimes you screwed up, sometimes you cried with them out of tiredness or frustration or sympathy. But for the most part it was just sort of easy. It was just life and there wasn't a whole lot of time to think about how to do things or if they were the right things. I mean maybe you would, for a moment here, a night there - but with an infant and toddler you're in the thick of it. You live by the moment, mostly. Or at least I did.

When I did worry about things, it was always stuff for later. How would I handle this situation or that, when we got to it. Some of them we've already gone through. Some where not nearly as scary as I thought they'd be. Some we muddled through. But we made it out ok, with only a few scars to show for it.

I feel like now that they're older, I worry more. I worry about how much I may have messed them up already, how much I'm messing them up now, and how much I'll mess them up in the future.

I know that sounds stupid. I know we'll get through everything, same as we have. And I'll probably only mess them up a little bit, and eventually they'll forgive me and still love me anyway.

But here's the thing. I have a soon to be 12 year old. A coming of age, smart mouthed, stubborn, sulky, cranky, acting older than he is but still puts his head on my shoulder, little man.

It scares the crap out of me. Because I over think things. And worry too much. I know.

There are two things going on. One is I'm terrified of letting go. I know what I was like as a teenager, and I was a good kid compared to many kids I knew. The thought of him doing half the stuff I did worries me sick. I know I have a few years before it all really hits, but kids start earlier and earlier it seems. We've had all the big talks, but I don't think they are enough. The idea of letting go and hoping your words are enough is scary as hell.

The other thing is his attitude. He was always a spirited child. Never easy to raise, but a joy in his own ways. More and more he's - well, like a teen. He's so freaking negative and sulky and sometimes mean.

And I have no idea what I'm doing. So that's great. It's one of the most pivotal times in his life and I'm just kind of winging it.

His dad (who does not live with us) insists it's just him becoming a teen, and to just deal with it. That seems to be the (laughingly stated) consensus among all sorts of people.

And well, I sort of think that's bullshit. I understand there will be some tough and trying times, but it's no excuse for poor behavior and poor manners. Why should it be? And why the hell is it so hard to raise a decent, good mannered child?! I mean, people do it, right? There are polite kids and teens out there, yes? Tell me your secrets, please!!!

You know, we've had conversations before, where I've flat out told him that we don't have all the answers. Sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes we don't make the best choices either. But that everything we do, even when he thinks it's unfair (and maybe sometimes it is) is what we think is best for him then. Even if he doesn't understand it, we're only doing the best that we can as parents and the best we can for him. 

This is a hard age too, because he's not quite a child, and not quite a teen. You can't give him the independence of an older child, but he needs more freedom than a younger child. He has the attitude of a hormonal teen, but I still see the need for him to let go, relax and be a kid.

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I guess all those people had it almost right years ago. Raising a baby is the easy part, it's the rest of their lives that's so hard!

What a six year old sees.

Saturday, Colin asked if he could use my camera to take some pictures. I was pretty impressed with what he came back with. These are from around the yard and woods (it was once upon a time a farm, and we have a lot of 'junk')

It's fascinating to see what caught his eye (many things that I've taken pictures of before!) And, really, these pictures are pretty good!

His "weapons" rack.

Old chimney bricks. I've been trying to come up with some good uses for these. All I've got so far is to use them as planters.

A little further back in the woods, he was really exploring for these pictures!

Old stone (I think a barn) foundation

She-who-poops-in-shower now hangs outside with us sometimes.

I think this one is really neat.

The photographer.




I think someone should own his own camera soon, wouldn't you agree?

now.

The weather has been beautiful (and so needed!) and we've been spending a lot of time just enjoying it, while it lasts! I've been walking 2-3 hours a day. For an hour when the kids get on the bus in the am, just continuing to explore where we live now. Walking for another hour on my lunch break, exploring the University neighborhoods (since we aren't spending money!) and usually about an hour in the evening at work, just pacing the halls reading a book when it's slow.

Today was 65. Unbelievable. I know we could still get a snow storm again, and we probably will. But I'm just enjoying the now.

 Evans hair - all chopped off this week!

free range children.

I mentioned in my last post that I pretty much stink at playing with my kids. It's not something that comes easily to me. There were a couple of comments in response and also a blog a friend of mine posted that got me thinking and wanting to expand on that.

I'm ok with not being my childrens playmate. But I want to want to play with them. I want to instinctively know when to let go and get down and play.

My oldest always needed attention when he was playing "mom, look at this", "then this guy flies through the air and hits this guy and then  . . ." he always wanted an audience. Frankly, it was exhausting.

I think it's important for children to learn to play on their own. I also think it's sad that I have to say "learn to play on their own".

When I was growing up, you just did. I grew up in a suburban neighborhood, so I often had friends to play with - but there were many times I didn't. In those times there was my younger sister. Or a book. Or some sort of make believe in the back yard, or coloring or twiddling your thumbs. Something.

I mean, as you grow up you expect to not play anymore. I don't know why or when. One day you wake up and don't want to dig in a sandbox I guess, who knows?

But that's when you get older. Like 15 or 30 or 60 or something. Not at 5. Not at 10.

Seems today, many kids (my own included) don't really know how to play. Like it has to be taught. I think because, for so many kids - they don't have time to just be kids. Kids are pretty much shoved into a fast paced world from the minute they can sit up on their own. They are bombarded with TV and Baby Einstein. With programs that 'teach' them to read by 18 months. With play-dates and flash cards. With sports and band and 3 hours of homework a night. 

When they do have downtime, they just want to totally veg. They want mindlessness. TV and video-games, oh boy.

I know how that feels. I've had days coming home from work that I've been so tired the only thing I want to do is lay down and melt my brain in front of the TV for an hour. And I think that's ok sometimes. I'm not anti-TV. I'm not anti-video games.

But. Somewhere along the way - in our quest to make them happy with everything we never had, in our desire for them to get ahead - to be smarter and faster and more talented - our kids stopped being kids. Ok, they never stopped being kids. They stopped being treated like kids and instead like little adults.

I'm guilty of this. Mostly with my oldest. He just always seemed so adult like. Really. He's much wiser then his years, always has been. But you know what? He has no common sense. None. I don't know why.

I felt a little guilt (still do) sometimes - we moved the boys out of a neighborhood - away from their friends and into the country.

Some days, they don't know what to do. And I don't know what to tell them. I can't entertain them all the time. They have to learn how to play. Alone. My youngest is much, much better at this than my oldest.

I have some friends that freak out if their kids go barefoot or play in the mud. Dirt doesn't scare me. I don't mind it, I think there is nothing better than a kid who's been playing so hard he's covered head to toe in mud and sweat.

What I can't handle is the thought of injury. I am no good with blood. So I have to learn to let go. I have to not freak out when they climb a tree. I have to consider that pocket knife my oldest has been bugging me about (he is going to be 12 after all).
 

Last year, when my oldest was in 5th grade he had around 3 hours of homework a night and at least one project a month. This year he has maybe 30 minutes a night. He has projects, but most of them are done in school. They also have Phys. Ed every other day instead of every 4 days like at the old school, the "better" school.

I am so ok with him having less homework. Really. I don't think more homework makes him smarter or will get him into a better college. I think it bores him and makes him sick of school.

Anyway. I've forgotten exactly where I wanted to go with this.


Basically, I think all of us - the whole damn country, kids and adults - everyone needs to turn off our TVs and our computers and our video games. We need to turn off our ovens for a few minutes and put down the laundry and shut off the vacuum. And go outside and play. Right now. Put on your snow pants or your galoshes or your sunblock and go climb a tree or roll down a hill or jump in the mud.

And bring your kids.

how i love you.

I have a confession. I am not a good mother. Ok, I'm not a bad mom. It just doesn't come naturally to me. It's only been in the last few years I've started enjoying being a mom. I mean, I never not enjoyed it - but I never really embraced it. I just did it. I didn't savor it or treasure it, not the way I do now. Not the way I feel now. I was so damn young. And I just didn't know. I didn't have a lot of models on mothering or parenting. I was just trying to get by. Just trying to not lose myself, not screw my kids up and still enjoy life. The older I get the more mothering feels more natural to me. Maybe because I've been a mother longer. Maybe because I'm finally growing up.

I don't regret, not for one second, having my children when I did. But I wish I knew more then. I wish I realized then how very, very quickly it all goes by.

Sometimes now, I feel the urge - this crazy need - to make up for lost time. To compensate for those years I wasn't fully immersed in being their mom. For the years I was too young to know better. Or in school. But I can't, because I'm still not there all the time. I work, full time. I have to. Not in the way that some parents have to - but because I am the only income. Right now, there is not another choice for us. And my kids feel it. My youngest says things like "we don't see you that often". And they don't, because I work till 9 at night. I've done this for almost 5 years now. It breaks my heart, every day.

Sometimes I wonder what I am passing on to my children? What will they remember of home? Of me? Will they remember me always being gone? Or will those memories shape themselves differently over time, like mine of my father? I've talked about this before. But it's a thought that bothers me.

I know I've said before that I can't force memories or force traditions, but that's exactly what I try to do sometimes. I think that's why making food from scratch is so important to me. Underneath everything else, the food politics, the nutrition, the cost the real reason - the most important reason (for me) is that is how I say I love you.

I tell my kids and husband I love them, all the time. I am not stingy with saying I love you. I don't think you can ever say it too much, it should never be held on to or hidden.


But it's not enough to say it. They need to see it, to feel it. And sometimes I don't know how to do that. I read to the kids, that's easy for me. I love books, I love reading. It's easy to share. We go hiking, another easy one. I am not good at getting down and playing though, or chasing around the yard. I have to make conscious efforts to do that. I wish I didn't. I wish it was just how I was. But it's not. Sometimes I actually scold myself, in my head "put down the (book, dishes, laundry, computer etc . . .) and go PLAY with your kids".

I don't think my kids or husband realize it andI didn't realize it until recently, but I show them I love them with food. Not with over feeding them. Not with sweets. Not with showering them with their favorite foods or urging second and third helpings.

But every Saturday when I go to the farmers market. That's me saying I love you. Even when they complain about the vegetables I bring home or lament that they want fast food. Every carton of milk, every head of broccoli, every package of meat, that's my love wrapped in those carefully picked purchases.

Every meal that's left in the crock pot for their dinner while I work and eat leftovers at my desk - that's me saying I love you. I may not be there to eat at the dinner table, but I'm with you. I thought of you, I prepared this food for you.

I may not be home most nights for dinner, but I am there every Friday night over homemade pizza and wings. We don't order out, because that pizza is my I love you. I can't do that with a box of someone elses pizza. My love is wrapped up in that homemade dough, hand shredded cheese and stove simmered sauce.

Years from now, they might not remember how I lacked in playing legos when they were pre-schoolers. Maybe they won't remember (at least not harshly) how I wasn't there after school or for dinner for years. But maybe they'll remember the smell of the crock pot simmering, of homemade sauce. Maybe they'll remember what bread looks like rising on the counter and opening a jar of home preserved peach jam in February. That almost every single night, even when I wasn't there - they had a home cooked meal. They'll remember that I loved them.