Scared Straight

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A couple of weeks ago, on our way home from the afternoon pick-up rounds, I looked in my rearview mirror and was horrified to see Stella’s face looking straight at me. She was, literally, standing up in her carseat. I was pretty well aware of the fact that she could buckle herself in and out on her own. It was not at all uncommon for her to close the door and insist that I let her do it herself. However, I thought I had made it clear that this was an only-when-the-car-isn’t-moving type activity.

Not wanting this to become yet another power struggle with her, I had to make a split second decision as to how I could impress upon her the heinous things that might befall her should she ever attempt this again. I immediately pulled the car over, turned it off, spun around and with my most controlled, bad-ass mom voice I could muster, told her to Sit. Down. NOW. I then, in an equally don’t-mess-with-me-on-this-one tone, told her to never unbuckle her seatbelt again while the car is moving. It is a rare occasion that she does anything the first time I ask. This, however, was such an occassion. And let me tell you, it made me heady with maternal power.

As she buckled herself in and explained to me, “but I coudln’t reach my book!,” I told her that not only was it my rule that she wear her seatbelt, but that it was a law, and that the police would pull us over and give us a ticket if they saw her not wearing it. I refrained from giving her a screening of Highway, Bloody Highway, but did impress upon her the bodily injury that may befall her if she chose to defy my orders. As has happened many times in our discussions over the last three years, I found myself once again reasoning with her using a concept that had absolutely NO meaning to her. I thought I was being so wise by trying to play the “Police” card, not realizing that the concept of police hasn’t yet had an opportunity to be played out. Until today.

As we were driving to school this morning we came upon a highway patrolman detouring traffic around a car that had, apparently, driven off the road. There was a man’s hat laying in the middle of the street, and the whole thing had ‘suspicious activity’ written all over it. As we made our way around the scene, and headed towards school, we came upon three police cars with doors open lights on and a man on his knees, cuffed in the middle of it all. As we were slowly detoured around the whole thing, Stella watched intently from the back seat. Then, in a quiet and ominous voice she said, “Mommy, I don’t think he was wearing his seatbelt.”

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Update: Apparently, it was a bit more than just a seatbelt infraction.
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Porter McGoo Turns 6 Months Old

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Happy 6-month birthday, Porter!

I know that in the years to come, as you read through these pages it will probably seem like all I do is drone on and on about your sister and her antics, while only referring to you by names like Baron Von Cutenstein. Although this may be a tiny bit true, I know there are going to be many days in the years to come wherein I will tell the world about how you decided to bury the tv remote in a potted plant. Don’t worry, your day will come. In the meantime, feel good that all I can do is tell you how cute you are.

The fact is, you are becoming more and more independent every day, and – based on your agility of late – will be crawling quicker than I can say baby-proofing. I took a short video clip of you today and managed to catch some of my favorite things that I love most about you right now. Look closely and you’ll observe:

  • The cute noise you make when you chew (not suck) on your thumb.
  • Your fauxhawk.
  • The way you sit up by yourself without tipping over.
  • That frankenstein noise you make when you start to laugh.
  • That everything within an arms reach will eventually make it into your mouth.

Oh, and if those front teeth aren’t in by the end of the month, I am sure your dad will be on eBay ordering you up a pair. Not to mention, we are both tired of holding you up over our heads only to have you give us a huge smile while simultaneously unleashing a gigantic blob of drool onto our face.

Porter Video: 6 Months old

Wedded Bliss

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Last night Stella and Porter attended their first wedding. Unsure of how kid-friendly the event would be, the original plan was that I would attend (alone) as the designated representative for the Walston family, and Steve would stay home and tend to the young ‘uns. As it turned out, this was an unpopular decision with many of the other wedding guests who, after the ceremony, insisted I call him and let him know that his, Stella’s and Porter’s presence was requested. This was good anyway since I had forgotten the gift on the dining room table.

While Steve and I took the opportunity to catch up with friends that we haven’t seen in years, Stella quickly became the life of the party. She became one of those wedding guests. You know, the ones who end up with a tie tied around their head, and incessantly request Free Bird from the DJ.

She participated in her first conga line:

stella

She got her groove on on the dancefloor:

stella

She managed to dance so well everyone backed up into a circle around her:

stella

She even managed to comandeer Lisa’s veil:

stella

Porter even managed to get in on the action. (Please disregard the fact that he is wearing overalls, and looks like he should be attending a hoe-down.)

porter

Aside from the fact that our kids proved their genetic heritage and tore the house down, Steve and I had the wonderful opportunity to see friends that life has cycled out of our orbit over the last years. Throughout the night, the word “full-circle” kept coming to mind. Some of these friends I have known since the very first days that I moved up here. Everyone has moved on to different places (both physically and metaphorically) and getting to see them all again, and catch up was so much fun.

On the way home in the car, Stella and I had one of those conversations that made me immediately relay it to Steve when I got home so that I wouldn’t forget.

“Hey Stella, did you have fun at the wedding tonight?”
“Yeah. Mommy, what is a wedding?”
“It is something where two people who really love each other say a bunch of nice things to one another and promise to be together for ever and ever. Then everyone helps them have a big party to celebrate.”
…silence for about 30 seconds.
“Mommy, I really love my grandparents.”
“Do you think you want to marry them?”
“Yeah.”

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Correction: I just realized that this was actually Stella’s second wedding. The first being Jodie & Anthony’s when she was 2 months old, and before she had realized the true scope of her party powers.
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On Food

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Okay, so after many, many conversations and articles and debates, and then after reading this in today’s Chronicle, I finally have to ponder out loud.

Being a parent means – among other things – having to live to a higher standard. In particular, there is an acute awareness to live to a higher health standard. It starts when you are pregnant. All of a sudden you shun the otherwise unhealthy things for the sake of your precious unborn child. Wine? No way. Tuna? No way. Caffeine? Um, sometimes – BUT JUST SOMETIMES! Better diet, more protein, less fat. It is inevitable that you begin to wonder how is it that you are not worth all these healthy and wise decisions, yet your child is. This continues on even after they are born. You don’t skip making dinner just because you are tired. You make something, and you even put out the effort to make something that includes at least 2 of the food groups. Then there is the question of teaching them to care about what they eat. As foodies, it is hard to avoid the question about the (other) Big O. Yes, Organic. And therein lies my current conundrum: What is organic? How much does it matter? Is it simply that there is just a bigger message that needs to be taught?

There is the obvious: Just because something is organic, doesn’t mean it is healthy (organic sugar – yeah, still sugar…sorry about that). Then, there is the more subtle: Just because something is organic doesn’t mean we are forgiven for all of our otherworldly food sins. Organic has become a negotiable term. The bigger issue, instead, lies in our ability to think, learn, understand, and not just believe.

Steve and I have been working through this process ourselves, and are lucky enough to live in an area with an abundance of locally owned food purveyors. Food purveyors that focus not just on slapping an “organic” label on everything, but in supporting the spirit in which the word “organic” was derived: local, seasonal and healthful, with an eye towards humane practices and environmental impacts. We have a newly remodeled, and GIGANTIC Co-Op that opened here in Eureka just a couple of weeks ago, another natural foods store that is in the process of relocating to a new (and larger) building, as well as two more in Arcata. We have an amazing Farmer’s Market that runs Memorial Day to Thanksgiving, 5 days a week throughout the region. Ever conscious of quality and price, it is not uncommon for us to shop at 2 or 3 stores for our weekly groceries.

Price. This, truly, becomes the point at which the hard decisions have to be made. We have set an unofficial hierarchy when it comes to buying organic. Milk & eggs – always. Meat – as much as possible. Everything else – on a case-by-case basis. As you can see, there is quite a bit of wiggle room in our un-erring set of standards. We have spent a fair bit of effort (and money) trying to figure out the best way to feed ourselves well, with high quality, healthful food while also ingraining these ideals into our lifestyle. One thing we have realized is that it will be what we do – far more than what we say – that will have a lasting impact on how our children relate to food. And it is plain ridiculous to undervalue the importance of how kids relate with food. Read the news. Look around. Go ahead, try explaining to a three year old why there exist foods that have ZERO nutritional value, foods placed on the second shelf from the floor – taunting them with their fun colors and recognizable characters.

Yes, we let Stella eat M&M’s™, however the idea that someone would actually eat an entire bag of them is completely lost on her (eating 2 of them is still a magical experience for her). We talk about food that is considered a treat and what that means. Even juice provides a certain amount of tingly excitement. This, because she could consume an entire gallon of Raspberry Lemondade in a single sitting.

Steve and I have divided evenly on the fast food debate. Although once a great conniseur of everything South of the Border (burger joints always held a distant second), I have found myself not only disinterested, but also just plain disgusted by the standard fast food fare. The argument usually goes that Steve defends the “comfort” quality of a drippy, gooey burger, whereas I argue that if I am going to consume all those sinful calories it is at least going to be a good quality burger – one that actually tastes good. I am then going to pair that with big, homemade onion rings and not gross little french fries that leave that creepy grease feeling on the roof of your mouth. This is a debate wherein we will probably forever agree to disagree (but I am right).

Without sounding too cliché, I guess the answer is that there are no answers. The best thing we can do is keep paying attention, and focus on the logical.

To (good, healthy, local, organic, seasonal) food! We eat it, we feed it to our kids, we share it with our friends and because of that, it’s well worth the effort.