Thursday, October 30, 2008

California Dreaming

It's October, and I'm freezing. It's way, way too early for winter to start, with the cold, and the dark...ugh. Makes me grumpy. Of course, in my perfect world, it would be about 75 degrees every day, light breeze, warm sunshine. Wait, I've visited this magical location. It's called Los Angeles. There's an ongoing family joke that I was actually born in California, and...misplaced? (That would be a heck of a hospital mixup, but work with me here.) I think it all started when I visited the West Coast about 12 years ago and felt an uncanny sense of belonging. I found myself surrounded by people crunching salads, and sipping smoothies, and pedaling their bikes along the beach. These were my compadres! They even recycled, just like me, before it was the hip thing to do! I know I'm idealizing things and it's not really perfect there--after all, they do suffer their share of traumas: mudslides and wildfires and traffic and Paris Hilton. But when I bury myself in my fuzzy coat (the one I wouldn't even have if I lived in a more temperate clime), to take fruit scraps out to the compost bin, I can pretend to hear the ocean, and to be warm.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Future Earth-Guardians!

In my house one of my honorary positions is "Recycling Coordinator". (My husband calls it a Dictatorship, but I'll let you decide.) Duties include overseeing the placement of all cans, glass containers, and plastic items in the weekly collection bin, rather than the garbage. I have been known to pluck questionable materials, such as yogurt tubs, from the trashcan and instruct the family as to why they must be recycled, rather than discarded. After a few incidents where I snatched things from my sons' hands as they took their last bite, they learned to ask, "Recycle or trash, Mommy?" It also warms my heart to watch them cutting and pasting at their art table, then bringing each and every tiny scrap of leftover paper to the Mixed Paper bin. But I truly knew my teaching had taken root when we were driving in the car the other day and my younger son exclaimed from the back seat, "Derek, you can't throw that away, it's not biodegradable!" Bless my little tree-huggers!

Thursday, October 23, 2008

A (partial) Happy List

Things I have enjoyed lately, in no particular order:
1. picking chocolate chunks right out of the bowl while baking (I just did this, and boy, do I have brownie-breath!)
2. taking a Fall walk, feeling the still-warm sunshine, sniffing that smoky fireplace aroma, watching the leaves skittering down from the trees, hearing the crisp breeze stir those that are already underfoot.
3. Speaking of which: raking. I know, I'm weird. But as I see it, this is one chore that gives you fresh air and exercise. Bonus: you can actually see your progress as you clear the yard. And when the last leaf has tumbled down, you're done for a year! Beats dusting any day.
4. Volunteering at my kids' school. This week I got to hang a bulletin board, listen to 3rd graders read, and play Alphabet Bingo. I even got a sticker in Kindergarten for my good work!
5. Not having to watch the Yankees in the playoffs. Go Phils!
6. Bumping along on a hayride to the pumpkin patch, then tromping around, earnestly searching for just the right one for our front-porch jack-o-lantern.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Something else to worry about...

This is going to be a little crunchy-granola-tree-hugging for some of you, but here goes...I read in my Natural Health magazine about a little substance called 1,4 Dioxane. (No, the comma's not a misprint, just some wacky scientific notation.) According to the article, it is a "carcinogen and groundwater contaminant" and also a "suspected kidney, brain, and respiratory toxicant." Wait for the best part: it's in ALMOST EVERY shampoo, body wash and lotion, as well as many cosmetics, under various sneaky chemical names. Seriously, I went around the house and checked, and 99% of the "beauty care" products I found have this nasty thing. Here's the first big question: while they're creating poisons in their bubbling beakers, (all the while protected from harsh ingredients and noxious fumes by safety gear), do the staff chemists for the beauty industry even think about the actual people who will be slathering these potions onto their hair and skin? Second big question: what can we do to guard ourselves, and even more importantly, our children, from this stuff? Of course I immediately collected offensive products and replaced them with organic, natural ones. But believe me, this was costly in both time (a special trip to an organic market) and money. I don't have the answer, by the way, but I think we should all be as informed as possible. Save the Earth, and save the humans, too!

Thursday, October 16, 2008

5 Going on 15

I've known for a long time that my 5-year old son is trouble waiting to happen. Let's just say he's a bit impish (the same way you'd imagine leprechauns to be "a bit impish"). Lately conversations with him have taken on somewhat of a surreal quality (as in "you're too short to be using that kind of language"). Playing with his older brother and a neighbor: "That's a sick skateboard." (yes, he knew it meant "cool") Battling with two action figures in a very serious duel: "You will not prevail!" (at least that one I knew he got from a Disney movie) Listening to the Jonas Brothers CD: "I think that's funky!" With all this warning, I shouldn't have been that surprised at what happened yesterday. He was standing on the bed to hug me, so we were at eye-level with each other. He gave me an enormous, mischievous grin and said, "Mommy, you're hot!" After the hysterics had died down, I managed to sputter, "Excuse me? Do you know what that means?" "It means 'cute', " he replied brightly. The next thing I wanted to know was who had taught him this very special vocabulary. Nonchalantly, he said, "Ms. Mac..." (his Kindergarten teacher). Oh boy. It should be an interesting parent-teacher conference in a few weeks...

Monday, October 13, 2008

Tweeny-bopper

I recently read that the term "tween" describes kids ages 8 to 12. But surely that only applies to girls, I thought. My 8-year old son still calls me Mommy, and asks if we can have a cuddle when I tuck him in at night. Then one day, with no warning whatsoever, Attitude showed up. It brought along its cousins, Sarcasm and Backtalk. Suddenly, my sweet little boy became a master of the rhetorical question. For example--Mom: "Time to do your homework!" Formerly obedient, charming child: "Who, me?" (delivered with all the sneer he can muster, which fortunately isn't that much...yet.) This of course assumes I haven't forgotten to lift the headphones so he can actually hear me over the Jonas Brothers. I consider this a warning phase. I know it won't be long before he starts trying out other delightful behaviors like eye-rolling and stomping off to his room in a huff. So for now, I'll treasure the moments when he folds his almost-too-big body onto my lap and gives a great big hug to his Mommy.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Say What??

Anyone remember an old folksy-type singer/songwriter named Jim Croce? My dad used to play his records (real vinyl, or perhaps even 8-track) a lot. Flipping through the radio yesterday on the way to work, I heard his voice on the oldies station for the first time in a while. The song was not a particular favorite, but I was ready to pull into a parking spot, so I left it on. Now, I have listened to this song, thanks to Dad, approximately a million times. "Like the pine trees lining the winding road, I got a name, I got a name." But for the first time in 30 years, I sat stunned and open-mouthed, staring foolishly at the radio when I heard the next line. "Like a singing bird or a croaking toad, I got a name, I got a name." My whole life until that moment, I believed he said "Like a singing bird or a broken toe..." I always thought it was such a stupid thing to sing about...but now I'm going to break into hysterical laughter when I hear it, and you'll know why!

Dedicated to DV, my buddy in "auditory misprocessing".

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Train 'em Early!

We were almost out of organic milk, and since I had to drag the boys with me, I opted for Roots Market. They may have expensive stuff, but they have free sample stations scattered throughout the store! Anyway, we don't go there often, so we simply must browse. After turning down requests for croissants and similarly sticky, sugary treats, I conceded that the boys could each choose one item, subject to Mom approval, of course. My 8-year old disappeared for a few minutes, then showed up with a box of cereal. He proceeded to plead his case for "Leaping Lemurs" by stating: "I checked the label, and it has no saturated fat, no trans fat, no partially hydrogenated oil, and eight grams of sugar. Oh, I forgot to check the fiber! Two grams, is that enough?" The clerk standing near us gaped in apparent disbelief at this speech and finally stammered, "He's well-educated, isn't he?" I couldn't have been prouder of my little walking advertisement for healthy eating. Evidently all my yammering about nutrition is, in fact, sinking in. I didn't have the heart to tell him that in that particular store, just about anything he picked up would have been acceptable. He seemed so pleased with himself as we turned our attention to finding some yummy-but-good-for-you cookies--after all, we had been so virtuous, we deserved a reward!

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Confessions of the (mildly ) Electronically Challenged

I've made a bold, even brash leap in my personal life. I ditched my paper-and-pen-planner and went digital. I know, it's been a long time coming; I'm probably the last person on the planet not called "Grandma" to make this move. I just couldn't seem to let go of the habit of scribbling, color-coding, whiting-out...it was a pain, but it made my schedule visible and tangible to me. I wondered what would happen if I couldn't glance over and see my lists of appointments and chores at all times; would my life feel less real to me if it existed only in cyberspace? You can see my dilemma! (Then again, in plain black and white, it looks ridiculous, so maybe you don't.) Even though I've never been afraid of technology, it was tough for me to trust a machine to take over. However, now I have to admit I feel pretty hip typing reminders into my little MP3 player. Somehow, "volunteer at school" and "D's baseball game" manage to look official and slightly cooler than than they were on the mundane piece of paper. Of course, I also know I actually can check it whenever I want, by turning it on, clicking a few times, scrolling through...almost makes me miss my markers!