{Surprisingly, not about human relationships, mostly. This one is about food.}
Somewhere in between going off the grid altogether [raising chickens, living in the woods, etc.], and blindly trusting everyone and everything is the space in which I operate. In fact, I vacillate to both extremes.
Last week, organizing some papers, I found an anti-globalization ‘zine I did with some friends for a school project: a tool to assist kids in understanding the evils of the IMF; why they shouldn’t listen to The Man; what they could do to stand up for their beliefs. I made it about 10 years ago. Back when I wouldn’t go to McDonalds, or Wal-Mart. Back when (well, a couple of years after that), I participated in the anti-Iraq war march in London.
Today, you might find me shopping at Wal-Mart, once in a while. I sort of work for The Man. Today I don’t feel like I have the time or the head-space to be much of an advocate. Today I’m making decisions based on speed and cost and both resources are limited by a number of factors – overwhelmingly the children.
And so I trust. I trust that when I purchase something, I’ve made the best decision I can in that split second, whether I remembered to check the expiry date or read the label or not. When pre-prepared or processed foods make it in my cart, I’m looking for reduced sodium and no/low nitrates and hopefully a few vegetables in there and will the kids actually like it, even. Or sometimes, I just buy it knowing it’s not the healthiest thing, because it’s not a big deal that they won’t eat one unhealthy meal once in a while (I’m looking at you, Kraft Dinner). I know that overall, we feed them pretty well. As I’ve said before, I do most of the cooking myself, from scratch, for dinner.
For lunch, I’m doing what my family has done forever – serving a lot of luncheon meats. Ham, turkey, Montreal smoked meat infrequently. And yet, I know that there is so many reports coming out right now that processed meats increase the risk of cancer, of heart disease. Again, it’s not every day, but it’s enough for me to worry about. So I’m happy when a company comes out with ham and turkey that reduces sodium, takes out the unknown/un-pronounceable ingredients, and doesn’t use nitrates.
But for all this worry about nutrition, I’ve not been worrying about food safety.
Twenty-two Canadians died in 2008 after consuming tainted meat produced at a Maple Leaf Foods plant in Toronto. Many other people got sick. Of course, I remember exactly when this happened. I remember looking in my fridge for any of the related products. We didn’t have any. We did have uncooked Maple Leaf chicken in the freezer – but I felt confident enough in my cooking ability to be able to kill any listeria lurking in there.
If you’re Canadian, and you own a tv, you will remember the commercial that the company issued soon after the outbreak, where CEO Michael McCain took responsibility for the actions that lead to the deaths, and promised change. I remember being struck by his honesty.
I happened to be struck by his honesty again last Thursday night – except in person. Parent bloggers from around Toronto were invited to meet Michael and some of his colleagues at the company’s’ ThinkFOOD! Innovation Centre in Mississauga. The event was organized by Matchstick, which is a word of mouth marketing company that I have worked with before.
We were welcomed, informally greeted by the Maple Leaf staff who’d been reading our blogs (gulp!), and lead into the kitchen area for a more formal discussion, with questions and answers. The message from the company was to outline just how much they have improved their monitoring and cleaning of any food-borne bacteria, of how they had re-focused and re-trained staff. Of the new corporate staff brought on board for more accountability. Of their Maple Leaf Food Safety Pledge.
We also learned a lot about our own responsibility regarding food safety. This is probably my biggest take-away from the night – I realized how much I’m taking it for granted. I let my lunch sit on my desk all morning before I eat it. I often don’t have very clean counter tops in the kitchen. I use in-store delis, which are apparently major listeria breeding grounds. I usually hit the produce and meat sections in the grocery store first – so if I get distracted by those Joe Fresh clothes, there’s raw or frozen meat sitting in my cart longer than there should be. We already kept our meat at the bottom of the fridge, and we already do lots of hand-washing, but those were good reminders too.
Lots of the other bloggers (some I knew, some I didn’t) asked some very tough questions of Mr. McCain and his staff. I appreciated their honesty and openness. I ended up making a summary comment that was sort of something like this: that my life is like a house of cards, that it’s precariously standing up, ready to be blown over at any second. By a sick child, by a broken down car. I rely on many, many pieces coming together to make it work. And I realized, that evening, how much I rely on companies like Maple Leaf Foods (to be honest, there’s a store brand that I rely on SO MUCH more even) to provide my family with safe and nutritious food. That I have an hour to grocery shop every week, and I need to make a quick decision. I don’t want my kids to get sick; I don’t want to be buckled with worry that they are going to get sick, either from food-borne bacteria, or the wrong kind of additive. I was grateful for the opportunity to tell a major food producing company how important they really are. There is no room for them to take short cuts.
And I, we – as parents, obviously have the biggest burden of the decision-making and choices here. There needs to be less short cuts on my part, too, and more thoughtfulness.
If you’re interested in trying some of the Maple Leaf Foods products that we were able to try on Thursday night – and you might be, because they were quite yummy, head over to my review blog. There’s a giveaway for Canadians only.
Disclosure: For my participation in this event, I was provided with a bag of samples of Maple Leaf Food products to try at home, coupons, a meat thermometer, an apron, and gas gift cards – as well as the bag to give away to my readers. I was provided with dinner at the event itself.
There seems to be a lot going on – but nothing particularly worthy of a blog post. Yet here I find myself at the computer! So I shall write.
We just had a long weekend up here in Canada – and it felt LONG. This is mostly a good thing. It also really felt like the beginning of the summer – the temperature just shot up.
The weekend started off on Friday with a trip to Canada’s Wonderland (the first of many this summer, as we have season’s passes and it’s so close we could almost walk – almost). Saturday was odd jobs around the house, and then taking the kids to my parents’ for a sleep over.
Sunday was house organizing and tidying and re-arranging and both de-cluttering and actually cluttering some rooms that needed character — all as we further attempt to get his house ready to list with a real estate agent. We took a break for dinner on Sunday – to pick up the kids and have dinner with my parents’ for my dad’s birthday.
Monday, Mark took the kids back to Wonderland and to a local park while I did more house jobs.
But there was more. There was the small matter of the Lost series finale on Sunday night. There was much cooking, including a roast turkey, and some barbecuing. There was some sprinkle party cake flavoured ice cream – fun! There was furniture assembly during wine drinking (oopsies). There was both sleeping in, and not getting enough sleep.
It was busy. And it was mostly good. But no wonder it felt like a week off instead of 3 days.
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Oliver just started outdoor league soccer. Like real soccer/football – with shin pads and cleats and big socks. And thankfully, he seems to be much more into it this year, than last year‘s 6 weeks of picking dandelions. May it continue. He’s got so much energy – it’s great to see him focus it into dribbling and kicking the ball.
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I’m still thinking about that Lost finale on Sunday night. I realized that I started watching it while I lived in the UK. The first season started there the same month I got married – August 2005. It’s unusual for me to watch an entire television series from start to finish. But I’m glad I did. I’m happy that not every question was answered. I’m also happy that everyone got a happy ending in a way – though it could be seen as sad, depending on your beliefs. I am not a spiritual person – it still resonated. It was lovely. That show had some moments of great television, and the finale was one of them.
The PVR is full of other shows to catch up on this summer (Mad Men – yeah, from last year, Doctor Who – haven’t seen a single new one, etc.), to fill in the gap until the fall schedule – that is, when I get a chance to sit down and relax and watch some. It doesn’t happen as much as it used to. And that is okay with me.
So here we are again – my blogiversary. Bloggiversary? What a stupid word. Anyway. It’s the anniversary of when I started blogging. Six years this week.
I wasn’t here, self-hosted, until recently. But I’ve imported everything so you can see those first posts if you want to (I don’t necessarily recommend it – there’s a lot of crap back there; I don’t blog unless I actually have something to say now, profound or not so much).
Coincidentally, it turns out that this week is ALSO my Twitter anniversary (twitterversary? Shoot me now.) – I found an archive of my first tweets here back when I was only following 8 people. Heh. I joined Twitter 3 years ago but didn’t start using it in earnest right away. Now it’s so pervasive I’m trying to find ways to stay off it.
Blogging has been part of my life longer than my kids, longer than I’ve been married. It was started because I was living abroad; it continues because sometimes, I like to write. Most of the time (not always) I like the connections I’ve made. Sometimes (not often enough) I manage to generate some good discussion. Mostly, it’s quite therapeutic, putting all my anxieties (and oh, there are so many!) out there for a few to see. Even if nothing comes of it.
I may not have a big audience, I may not always write inspiring pieces, but hey! I’m consistent! What else have I done consistently for the past six years? Not a lot.
Last year was five years and it felt like a big deal (why? Why do anniversaries of any sort matter to us? Why do we put so much stock into 365 day increments?). This year, not so much.
Google tells me that the traditional anniversary gift for six years is candy or iron.
Here, let’s share some candy.
(can you guess how hard it was for them to not gobble them up right away??)
So this weekend, when I was simultaneously homicidal and suicidal, and stuck in my head? Yeah, it was those pesky hormones after all. Seriously, you’d think now I’m in my mid 30′s that I’d know when it was PMS, and not that it was the END OF THE WORLD.
Are you in tune with your body? ‘Cause I think I am pretty out of touch over here.
I have an app on my iPod touch that would have clearly told me it was PMS I was experiencing. The body is amazing. It’s 31 days of perfect clockwork (for me). If only I remembered to look at it.
(But seriously – when are they going to cure PMS? I mean, clearly curing cancer is a priority. CLEARLY. But you’d think SOMEONE would have come up with something by now to treat my temporary mental illness…Dr. Google isn’t really helping me. Has anyone tried St. John’s Wort?)
Twice in the past month, I’ve indulged in a bit of food much later than I normally would, like a snack around 10pm. Both times I’ve been woken up stupidly early the next morning with terrible, terrible pain around my rib cage. It sort of felt like my organs were going to fall out, or I was being stabbed. The first time, I was convinced I was dying, and I ended up grabbing some Robaxacet for the muscle pain I assumed it was. I sat in the dark, almost in tears, desperate to get back to sleep before my 6:30 alarm rang. But both times, what got rid of that pain? Lots and lots of loud and rude BURPS. So that’s what trapped gas feels like. No more not-digesting-late-night-food for me. This body just can’t eat late anymore.
Last night, we took the boys for a long overdue general health check up, and Oliver ended up needing a booster and an MMR vaccination. He was not too happy getting his needles, and when the sobbing subsided, he decided that Mandarin Chinese buffet was in order for dinner (it’s up the street from the doctor, conveniently). I had two small plates of chicken, veg, rice & noodles, and a few bites of dessert. As I ate, I reminisced about my teens and 20′s, when I could have cleared off some giant plates of food, and a heap of dessert. Well, let’s be honest — it’s probably a very good thing that I can’t eat nearly as much as I used to.
I recently watched something – I think, actually, it was a Momversation video, of all things – and someone said that they spent too much time in their head, and not listening to their body, and that can make you crazy. NO KIDDING. I think I need to start listening to my stomach and my ankles and my hips a bit more. And my damn over-analyzing head a lot less.
Gee, it is obvious that I am not so well in the head lately? I can’t really figure out why – fluctuating hormones, the Moon, a voodoo curse? All I know is that I read about Chynna Phillips entering rehab for anxiety in an old People magazine and thought WOW LUCKY HER. Because I think I need some time in an asylum right now.
I’m cranky, I’m teary, I’m stupidly envious of other people’s trips, and house moves, and blog recognition, and wealth, and fun nights out, and thoughtful gifts. I’m barely present. I’m not getting things done. I’m stagnant. My head feels full.
And yet, I have all this. All this that some others do not have.
Mother's Day 2010
All the non-mothers in the family, Mother's Day 2010
So on Mother’s Day, as I walk with a friend through the final (finally. FINALLY) wait of her international adoption – one that has taken 4 years after much loss; as I hear about daughters missing mothers who have died; as I think about all the mothers I know who have lost their babies and children, of which there are too, too many — I take a deep breath. And I write this post. And I start to give myself some damn perspective.
This is my personal kick in the ass.
(Also, I think I need to spend less time online, particularly on twitter. It’s part of what’s making me crazy.)
I was going to add some words to those arrows until I realized that it applied to so many areas of my life.
The first, of course, as I have discussed before, is parenting. So much advice being thrown our way on the right way and the wrong way to bring up the kids. It’s noisy. It’s cacophonous. I’ve had to turn a lot of the noise off. It doesn’t mean I’m doing the right thing by my kids. In fact, I’m probably doing the wrong thing quite a lot. But we muddle through, trying to keep everyone sane and alive, and right now, that’s the best we can do.
Lately, the other noise, rising up to almost the same volume level? Is food.
I already have a complicated enough relationship with food. I wish food was just fuel to me. But food is love, food is reward, food is guilt, food is comfort, food is what I’m thinking about a lot of the day (what to make for dinner, what to pack for lunches, to make sure the kids’ are eating balanced diets, to take time for cooking, etc.). That’s quite noisy already. That’s also my own battle. I’m not really ready to talk about it.
Let’s add a few more messages into the mix:
Raw. Macro-biotic. Vegan. Vegetarian. Organic. Local. 100 Mile. Seasonal. Paleo. Low carb. Carb free. Food revolution. Grass fed. Free range. Fair trade. Grapefruit Diet. Weight Watchers. Liquid diet. And on and on and on and on.
Or even the messages that seem to change weekly: red wine is good/red wine is bad. Coffee is okay/coffee is not okay. Dark chocolate is wonderful/what the hell are you thinking eating chocolate.
The DIN! The racket! It’s over-WHELMING. For me. For me, this is an awful lot of noise, and an awful lot of anxiety.
I have so many messages here to sort through, to process, to understand the implications of. This work takes up an awful lot of brain space, when it was already busy enough in there already. And it heavily cross-references the parental messages: what are you feeding your kids? Are you killing them, you terrible mother? Are you giving them the best possible food?
Here’s the best I can do right now:
• I make home-cooked dinners for my kids as often as possible, without going insane. When I say home-cooked, it usually means from scratch. Sometimes, there’s a sauce thrown in that I didn’t make – but not normally. I like to cook. I like that I can combine ingredients to make them taste good, to make sure our meal is relatively balanced.
• But (and this is a big BUT) I work full time outside the home and sometimes we’re busy in the evenings, so sometimes we do rely on processed food (like a frozen pizza) or take out. Sometimes does not mean every week.
• Sometimes a hamburger is just a hamburger. It’s not going to kill them.
• Sometimes, I buy things that are organic. Most of the time I don’t. I have a food budget and I try to stick to it and that precludes a lot of organic food. I look forward to prices coming down. Hopefully?
• A lot of the time, I buy food that is out of season, because fruit and vegetables are good for us. I KNOW that strawberries from Florida has covered too many food miles and I should wait for summer Ontario ones. But I see the giant $3 box of strawberries and I think about how much everyone is going to enjoy it.
• They adore fruit. This is great. They love broccoli. This is also great. A lot of veggies aren’t appealing to them, though. I know this will change as they get older. They could be an awful lot pickier than they are now.
• Usually, I buy meat when it is on special and stock up the freezer. We mostly eat chicken and fish, with a bit of pork thrown in for good measure. Sometimes, we might actually have red meat.
• Usually, my kids drink milk or water. Sometimes, I actually let them drink juice. It’s viewed as a treat.
• I usually pack processed snack food in my kids’ lunch for his JK recess treat twice or three times a week. They are pretty much the only cookies that he gets. This is an area that I will aim to improve upon as he will be going full time next year. I will have to balance health with the fact that I totally resented my own pretty healthy and un-exciting packed lunches. Making things myself might be the way to resolve that. I also like to let him have a say in what goes in.
• My kids almost never get dessert. You know what? They probably should get it more often. I should be making it. Maybe one day when things are less chaotic.
• Weekends often involve some sort of ice cream – perhaps a frozen yogurt from Ikea or a popsicle from the freezer. It’s called childhood. That’s part of the enjoyment of it.
• If there’s chocolate in the house (like eggs from Easter), I put it away and bring it out at strategic times like first thing in the morning. So they’ll have the day to work out the energy. (I personally can not have chocolate late in the day or it keeps my head spinning awake at night – so I don’t want to deal with those consequences with them)
This is our reality. We will work to do better, because as the kids get older it’s a bit easier to cook more (the less direct supervision they need). Because, thankfully, salaries go up a bit, leaving a bit more room in the food budget.
But I can’t engage with many current discussions about the food industry (whether that’s meat, or US school meals, or whatever). I just can’t. I’m sure I’ve read somewhere about a theory that mothers make the best advocates. Not me.
You know what? I’m too tired, too anxious, too busy. I really am. I will cheer you on from the sidelines, as you advocate for change. Believe me, I’d be an awful lot happier if there was no sodium in packaged food (I try to read labels and make the best of a bad choice). But I’ve got a half hour to shop (or I’ll feel guilty for cutting into the little time I have with them each day), I’ve got dinner to put on the table for my family, and I’ve got a life that I’m not balancing or managing that well. So today they might have something that isn’t the healthiest choice. Tomorrow they will have steamed veggies. Balance.
Sanity and balance. It’s what I’m seeking. It feels like it’s becoming even more elusive.
Can you turn these messages off? Or are you enjoying the discussion/do you like hearing them? Can you turn the volume down? Or is it just me?
This post is written as part of a Mom Central blog campaign.
[all people who don't want to read about preschool/toddler toilet training, shocking as that is, feel free to move along!]
Hey, that song’s a bit of an ear worm, eh? We don’t even watch channels with commercials with the kids, but we do get snippets of sponsorship on Treehouse, and every once in a while we hear…
Do the…<clap, clap>…Potty Dance
Canadian comic Jessica Holmes & her daughter do the Potty Dance
We’re sort of doing the potty dance lately. Callum is showing a lot more interest in using the toilet than Oliver ever did at this age. Oliver, a year ago, was still in Pull Ups. A year ago. It wasn’t until last summer, when the heat was really on before school started, that he was properly trained. What a relief that was.
Callum adores wearing Pull Ups, and loves to try to pee on the toilet. The difference this time, as Oliver couldn’t have cared less about being clean or dry, is that Callum wants to be exactly like his big brother. And will argue with you if you tell him he’s 2. “I a BIG BOY”. Yes, hun, yes you are.
Traci Melchor from etalk and her kids do the Potty Dance
So far, we’re rewarding him with Dora and Diego stickers. But, really, he gets a lot of satisfaction from knowing that he did what his brother does. Even if that’s simply a piddle on the toilet.
When he’s closer to really training, maybe this summer, I’ll combine the Pull Ups with some cloth training pants that we have. And, eventually, on to underwear (which means LAUNDRY…oh the laundry).
Oliver took ages to train, as I said. But he’s been pretty easy about night time dryness. Hasn’t worn a Pull Up to bed in forever. Not sure how long this will take with Callum, but it looks like the journey has started. Two kids dry? Whatever will I do with myself when I have no diapers to change?!
I haven’t taught the kids the Potty Dance yet. I’m not sure if it will be a good incentive for Callum. But I’m going to MAKE a bunch of kids do it at a Pull Ups Potty Dance play date we’re having on Friday afternoon. Okay, maybe just my kids.
Actually, we were supposed to get a bunch of Toronto bloggers and their kids together last Saturday for a Pull Ups Potty Dance bash at my place, but 90% of them BAILED on me at the last minute. I’d name names but YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. Kidding, kidding. Getting the city folks out to the country was wishful thinking anyway.
However, a few can make it on Friday, and we’ll discuss the strategies we’ve used for potty training, amongst other delights of motherhood – how perfect, just before Mother’s Day. I’ll also save some material that Mom Central gave me, like some Pull Ups Potty Training DVDs and coupons, for when I see the others in person again.
Disclosure: for participating in the Mom Central Pull Ups Potty Dance blog tour, I will be compensated with a $25 Chapters gift card. For hosting the Pull Ups Potty Dance party (IF IT EVER HAPPENS) I was provided with a party kit including party decorations, Pull Ups DVDs and coupons to give away, a music CD, and a $25 Visa card to purchase refreshments. [You people better show up or I might just buy $25 worth of birthday cake and sit with a fork and cry.]
