Of Making Healthy Choices

Our children are such fans of food they plan their meals ahead of time.  Okay, to be honest, Emmett probably wouldn't think of it if he had not heard his sister do so.  He's just generally happy to have food in front of him of any sort (such a boy).  His sister on the other hand?  She's planning tomorrow's breakfast while she's eating her eggs today.

"And after we eat our eggs and banana and milk, then we'll have lunch, and then dinner and then the next breakfast, after we wake up, can we have toast?"

or during lunch . . .

"After I finish these next five bites, I'm gonna have dessert and then after I wake up, I'm gonna have snack and then dinner and then can I have a cookie for that dessert?"

Yes, dessert might be her favorite food item to concentrate on, but, then, she's a girl - chocolate is her love language.

I've been so pleased, however, to notice the subtle changes in her suggestions after the Whole 30, where fruits and veggies were a mainstay at every meal.  Today, for example, she asked me (before breakfast), "Today, can I have a peach for snack*?"

"Well, maybe.  But how about I give you some for lunch, instead?" (I made this suggestion knowing snack isn't always a guarantee and we need to eat those peaches spilling over our dining room table.)

[Like she's just won the lottery] "Yeah!  And maybe we can have some for lunch and snack!"

Considering her previous snack requests have been focused on animal crackers and Goldfish, this Mommy is rather relieved to hear her excitement over picking what fruit she'll have in her recycled yogurt cup this afternoon, especially knowing what battles we've fought in the past over seeing some of these very same items on her lunch plate.  

They have both become much more receptive to a variety of produce and we are quietly happy about this (can't let them know we're surprised at their positive reception to our meal offerings).  Of course, we might not have needed the Whole 30 to accomplish this task, but it's what forced us to make more of a deliberate effort to turn away from filling our kids with rolls, mashed potatoes and pasta (their favorites) and toward fresh-from-the-earth good-for-you options.  

We in the parenting biz call this a win.

*Note, snack comes AFTER nap-time, which comes AFTER lunch-time.  She's a little ridiculous.

1,000 Gifts:

919. The internet connecting us all

920. Dust, all glitter in the sun

921. Bubble Gum jelly beans (I'm not a jelly bean fan, but these blew my socks off)

922. Packing other people's things

923. An impromptu gathering and the children scurrying about

924. Soft green grass

925. A cat nestled on the lawn, basking in the afternoon sun

Of Addictions

I'll just say it: My name is Angela and I am addicted to honey.  Now, please don't misunderstand, it's not just any honey that will give me my fix.  As a matter of fact, until about two or three months ago, I would have told you I didn't even care much for the dripping amber-colored substance (unless, of course, it was adorning the wonders of blini, the Russian crepe, but that's another story).  But one fateful day changed me forever.

On that beautiful spring Saturday, I was running around town on Mommy errands (the kind that get me out of the house all by myself) when I spotted a red truck on the side of one of the main thorough-ways of our thriving metropolis.  The truck bore a simple yellow sign proclaiming its wares: "Honey."  Now, only a few weeks before, I had silently vowed to myself to take advantage of road-side stands this season.  In years past, I had seen farmers selling corn, melons and other wonderful produce from their own vehicles parked on the shoulder of any given street.  Always tempted, I had never stopped.  This year, I had decided would be different.

And what kind of change could I hope to effect if I reneged on my personal vows now?  Besides, though I didn't care much for honey, I thought my husband might enjoy it.  And, so, I turned my little car around (the one I drive when I'm on my Mommy errands - without carseats!) and headed back to the large three-quarters-aged man (what do you call them when they're beyond "middle-aged" but not quite octogenerian?  When you have an answer, you let me know) and his red truck.  Pulling in, I decided I would simply ask the price of his product.

I chided myself - who was I kidding?  As if it's not awkward enough to be the only consumer at the vendor's vehicular stand, to get out of my car, ask a simple price and then get in and drive off would just feel ludicrous.  I was going to be buying honey, like it or not.

Still, looking for an opener, I questioned the going rate.  As he told me his not-unreasonable asking price, he inquired as to whether or not I'd like a sample.  Not wanting to be rude, I acquiesced.  And thus was the moment.  The moment this honey took over my life.  Okay, maybe I'm being melodramatic, but that home-grown honey, produced by bees cared for by this very man before me, was the most amazing tasting-honey I could have ever imagined.  I quickly purchased a bottle - still not knowing for what we would use it, but proud of my "support local growers" purchase and my great-tasting sticky goo.

I should mention, that for argument's sake, I re-tested my former bear-shaped bottle of store-bought honey almost the moment I returned home and knew I was not wrong.  I would never be able to have any other than 100% pure raw honey again.

And so it sat in our cupboard for weeks.  We pulled it out once or twice, but it rarely saw action.  Until I started eating better.  Recognizing honey's status as lower on the glycemic index than actual sugar, and not being able to tolerate plain oatmeal, I decided to give this new-found friend a shot - and I fell in love all over again.  Now, my bowl of oatmeal with milk and honey (along with a couple boiled eggs) is the meal I most look forward to every day.  I've also begun experimenting by adding it to bread or pancakes in place of plain white sugar.

And now we're running out!

I made a special trip this last weekend, to his trusty spot and found my honey-provider in order to re-stock and invested in a bottle twice the size as the previous, but I find I am still concerned as to whether or not this bottle will last through the winter.  And what if he's not there next summer?  How will I get my fix?  I am now nearly dependent and I'm almost going through shakes thinking about not being able to find what I need when I next run out.

I need help.  There, I've done the first step myself.