Healthy Mama

One of my daughters asked me, “What is Kool-Aid?” when we were in the grocery store this morning. I had a brief moment of parenting triumph, patting myself on the back for her ignorance. This lasted about 5 seconds until I remembered the sole reason we were at the store in the first place was to buy chocolate chip muffins and chocolate milk for breakfast because eggs weren’t happening today… Way to go, Healthy Mama. Paleo Fail.

Naming the New Year

I first read about the idea of naming the new year on Ann Voskamp’s blog. Recently I came across the idea again here, and just as before, it resonated with me. So rather than coming up with a list of resolutions for 2012 that will hang over my head with its most likely uncompleted to-dos, I will give this year a name.

Naming something indicates that it is significant–and I want this year and all of my remaining years to matter. Too often I fritter my time away on things that have no true value and do not get me any closer to being the person I wish I was.  With the act of naming, I hope to create a focal point for the upcoming year, a word to return to when my actions and thoughts drift aimlessly away from what I believe matters.

What name to choose? What needs the most attention? One name has been coming to mind more frequently than others over the last few days, but I think I will take the last day of the year to mull it over.

What about you? What name will you give 2012?

The CaCOUGHony

NaBloPoMo Prompt #3:

Can you listen to music and write? What song did you hear today?

I have not tried to listen to music and write in many years. I used to be able to manage both at once, particularly as a teenager, while writing terrible, oh-so-typical, angst-filled poetry.

As this blog has come to life, the soundtrack roaring behind me has been an unceasing cacophony of coughs.

A melody would be most welcome.

And a rest, that blessed space of silence, would mean that my little ones were finally feeling better.

It Isn’t About the Food

This month I am following the NaBloPoMo prompts from BlogHer.

If you knew that whatever you ate next would be your last meal, what would it be?

I decided to ask my children this question, though couched in terms that did not imply death. I was supremely gratified that no one mentioned the word McDonald’s, though in the end, their choices were more like a list of starchy side dishes and desserts, rather than resembling anything like what I would call a “meal” (one child had four different potato dishes on her list).

My choice of a last meal would be pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans cooked with bacon and onion, and biscuits with butter slathered on top. I would also have a nice, icy glass of Cherry Coke.

I have realized though, as I write, that I would only want this meal if it was prepared by my mother. It is, after all, merely a stand-in for the person who has infused it with what it represents to me: comfort, familiarity, home, love.

I believe I would not want a last meal at all, unless my mother could cook it and sit at the table with me while I was eating it, graciously ignoring the fact that her grown daughter still likes to put her green beans in her mashed potatoes.





My Mind Works Better on Paper

To ease in to the world of public blogging, I have decided to participate in BlogHer’s National Blog Posting Month. Each day for 30 days, BlogHer is providing a writing prompt. I am a day late to the game, but the prompt for Day 1 was :

What is your favorite part about writing?

I originally misread the prompt and thought it asked, “Why do you write?” I lay awake for an hour or so that night trying to mentally answer the question, and finally came up with an answer, only to reread the prompt the following morning and discover I had wasted all that mental effort.

Perhaps, though, all is not lost. As I thought through all of the things I write, the overall reason that I write became clear. What it all boiled down to was that my mind works better on paper. Every grocery list, journal entry, copied recipe, food diary notation, calendar entry, and note taken provides an external source of memory, a place to think through, reexamine and remember. Written words craft edges to days that otherwise would simply whirl by, many things forgotten.

Perhaps if I had taken the time to write down that first blog prompt, I might have remembered it.