Finding Strawberries

A few years ago I stopped eating strawberries. And this is big; because if you know anything about me, you know that strawberries are it for me - the big kahuna, the food obsession, surpassed only by avocados as my favorite food. In college I would stuff equal parts guacamole and strawberry pie down my gullet any chance I had. On my birthday, people would just gift me strawberries - baskets of big red ones, strawberry pie, chocolate-covered strawberries, strawberry shortcake. It was a thing; I liked it. I had an identity.

So, where did it go? Well, now that I think about it, it was mostly about the almighty dollar. Organic strawberries usually cost 5 bucks a basket so when I stopped working, the tasty treats became too precious to buy. And you gotta have organic with the berries. My obsession with strawberries in my early years coupled with big business and poisonous agricultural practices, means that I'm probably one-half methyl bromide. I try not to think about it; at least my kids don't have seven toes. But when I started riding the organic train and trying to keep my kids from ingesting as many toxins as I did, I had to give up the big, beautiful berry of my youth. Strawberries meant spring, my birthday, the end of school, the long days of summer. I just loved them and now I was out-priced from eating them....safely.

When Harp was young and I took her to the market, she would plead with me to buy strawberries and some times I'd give in, but I rarely indulged in them myself. They were too expensive; I wanted her to have them, so I gave 'em up - not consciously, but for all intents and purposes I saved the special treats, costing a buck a bite, for my little person and then for her sister.6

Do you ever notice how much you give up food for your kids? The last bite of something yummy, the bottle of water which, when returned, is too gross to drink, the dinner that you had to share because mac and cheese is suddenly and mysteriously distasteful? We give up so much - time, sanity, movies, but you never really think about food. I hadn't; it's just the way it is when they're young. But the food thing really hit me when Trader Joe's, my all-time favorite store started selling organic strawberries for $2.79 a big basket. That's right, cheap, organic berries of love. And just a few weeks ago I started eating them......... really eating them........ eating them a lot. And it was wonderful. I hadn't realized how much I missed them, how deprived I'd felt over the past few years over the loss of the berry. And ultimately how much we give up for our kids. It was a solid reminder for me - a person who needs many and constant reminders - that I don't have to give up everything. Sounds dramatic, but really it was quite profound. The food-love of my youth rediscovered through the cloudy, dirty lens of motherhood. So thank god for Trader Joe's and dammit if I'm not gonna fight Harp for the last strawberry next time.

Mom out.

My New Yogi

Harp went to yoga with me this weekend for the first time and I've never had so much fun in yoga. Normally, I sweat, hurt, feel every year of my bones, count the poses, look at the time, calculate the end to the pain. Bikram kicks my ass every single time. But this time, I had my person - my six-year-old, go-and-meet-the-world wonder girl. She didn't seem to mind that the room was 110, that her face looked like a tomato or that the class was a steady stream of left and right confusion. She rolled with it - threw her tiny legs in the air, wrapped her arms around her body and breathed. She was just delighted to be there. And I couldn't stop smiling.

I though maybe I'd be stressed. Yoga, after all, is a serious endeavor; well not for me, but I didn't want to harsh the vibe or have to tell Harp that her floppsies were distracting people's balance poses. But she was just perfect. She sighed a lot, made tiny "phew" noises from the heat, made up her own poses, but she was magnificent. Before her final savasana, she poured all the water over head, whispering, "ah, that's gooder." And I know like I've known all along that she was born to show me the fun, to smell the coffee and for god's sake to relax a little...even in yoga.

p.s. This picture was taken at 7:20PM on Sunday after yoga. Her bedtime is 8:30.....

The Indefatigable Culture of Kids

A few days ago, Harper was sassing me sweetly. We were joking, laughing, tickling and generally being silly, when all of the sudden, she busts out with this classic taunt:

Rosie and Mama sittin' in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G

This wasn't the first time I'd been slammed by a bit of arcane playground nostalgia, but it occurred to me that I didn't teach her this, and to my knowledge it's not part of the curriculum. I hope. Which leads me to wonder where she's getting these classic jibes. Not long ago, she threw down with, "I know you are but what am I?" I was mid-sip with my morning cuppa Joe when I heard this gem, forcing me to reroute my coffee through my nose.

And then this chestnut, after a standard mom refusal, "I'll be your best friend." She's still learning the nuances of these undying pearls of elementary school lexicon. Promising eternal friendship to your mom for a piece of gum is much less effective than on the playground with her fellow six and ups. But still, I can't help but ponder how and why these phrases have been around so long; long before I was in school and here we are, thirty years later and despite better nutrition, progressive social environments and the latest technology, kids still manage to find use for the rich and perfectly intoned, "DAUUUUH, Mom!"

So how are these games, taunts and rhymes perpetuated year after year, generation after generation causing so many tears, laughter and songs? The only thing I can think is that school becomes home, but a strange home with so many different kids, from different places and different lives. And this unwritten bible of phrases is just a short hand for everyone to understand each other. Pretty effin' cool, if you think about it. The fifth graders, now professionals in oral histories, pass down what they've learned in their many years to the grades their junior, while unwitting kindergartners are quietly inducted into the secret society and infused with the inimitable importance of "Eeeny Meeny Tipa-Teeny, Ah Ba Boobalini, Itchi-Kitchi, Othci-Kotchi, Out Goes YOU!"

Just a guess really; I don't really know, but I like it when I go to pick Harp up from school - a sweaty game of tag in full swing, when several of her compatriots bum rush me and suddenly I become "Home Base." Aaaah, it's good to be young.

Tooth Fairy - Gluten Free?

Harper lost her first tooth this morning. Well, she lost it and I had to find it, from within a slimy mouthful of oatmeal she spit in my hand. You wouldn't know it but oatmeal looks a hell of a lot like little teeth. I was trusting that the tiny tooth would be harder than her cooked oats - thus easier to find, but it took me more than two minutes to find the pearly treasure in amongst her breakfast of choice. When I finally found it, we jumped up and down, hugged and squealed with delight at her new look. She really looks different - so grown up in some way.

So now the parents/fairies/santas/super-heroes had some work to do. The girl rarely gets candy, so in addition to some cash and nice note, I sent the Chris/Tooth Fairy to the corner store for a bonafide treat for our new toothless diva. He came back with a food bar - a chocolate food bar, but a food bar. Let me read the packaging. The "Jocolat" bar is organic - no sugar added - 90% raw - Non GMO - Gluten Free - Dairy Free - Soy Free - Vegan - Kosher. A treat to be sure ....... for a squirrel. I'm sure this thing rocks the house. Chris likes them, assumed Harper would like it, but I was just looking for a sinful Snickers bar to celebrate the first tooth. I hope no dentist is reading this. But a treat's a treat; sure, I could have gone for a little toy or some other creative doo-dad, but Rosie's fighting a really high fever, the cat needs five medicines and hand feeding from a pit-bull attack over the weekend, so I didn't really have time to strategize about the best sub-pillow surprise.

So at 9PM, the Tooth fairy headed back to the store for a Snickers. Love that man. Plus, he forgot the milk. His daughter loved the treat; we'll keep the food bar around for tooth number seven, and all is well in fairyland.