Big Love for Wee Sprout: Nature's Little Squeeze Reusable Food Pouches

Sometimes I stumble across a product I love so much, that I track down the manufacturer and let them know I would hug them in person if I could.  Wee Sprout is one of those companies!

Wee Sprout makes REFILLABLE food pouches and
YOU can save 15%
by using code: PARDYMAMA

I never get paid to endorse any products that I mention on my blog, so you can rest assured that this mama is giving you honest feedback on items I truly use and love.

Do you have a picky eater in your family?

My daughter, Daphne, would live on cereal and spaghetti if I let her. It's like pulling teeth from a fish to get her to take a bite of veggies or fruit.  BUT, she loves those Go-go Fruit pouches!? I was paying way too much for them in the store, trying my best to find coupons or buy in bulk when it suddenly struck me, There must be a better way!

There is! Wee Sprout makes three different sizes of food pouches that are dishwasher safe, freezable, and totally reusable. You can fill it with smoothie, pudding, applesauce, or any one of your own concoctions so you can sneak-some-healthy into your kiddo's day!

SAVE 15% with code PARDYMAMA

As you can see - Daphne's a fan! I love to blend up some bananas with a couple tablespoons of apple juice and freeze them for her lunches. By the time it thaws out, she has a yummy banana smoothie ready to slurp down. (Just be sure to let the preschool teacher know not to throw it away after lunchtime!)

I rinse mine out with warm, soapy water, then toss it in the top rack of my dishwasher for a thorough cleaning. They are super durable, easy to use, and saves me a TON of money too!

Additionally, Wee Sprout is a family owned company right here in Tennessee! I was thrilled to contact the owner and let her know how much I loved the product, and I feel great supporting small business that promotes healthy living for kids and clearly keeps real life, busy mamas in mind when designing their products.

These little squeezes would make GREAT stocking stuffers for kids, wonderful baby shower presents, or an awesome gift for the mom-friend you love to play-date with!

SAVE 15% with code PARDYMAMA

Squeeze your little ones and buy them Nature's Little Squeeze today! You can know you are supporting small business and healthy living too!

Health Food

Like it or not, McDonald's and motherhood go together.  Sure, this might make you cringe.  There will be the few moms out there who somehow miraculously and courageously avoid the Golden Arches at all costs and no doubt their children had a healthier lunch than mine.

But, for those of us normies who fess up to defaulting to the Happy Meal when our children are throwing fits and the fridge is scarce...welcome.  You are in good company.


We live about a mile away from a McDonald's with the hugest indoor playland I've ever seen for a fast food restaurant.  It's a giant, plastic, climbing fantasy land for my kids, and completely closed off to the rest of the restaurant so I can feel fine about them screaming their heads off without disturbing the entire universe.  They can roam about freely, check in for the occasional sip from a juice box or nibble of a chicken McNugget, and continue on their way without interrupting (too often) my own lunch.

Yes, they are devouring food that's higher in calories and fat.  They are climbing on slides swarming with germs.  They are loud and obnoxious and not sitting still for a single second.  We're not here for our physical health, certainly (though the playland does work up a good sweat for them).

I'm not here for my health, I'm here for my mental health.  And sometimes it is just totally worth it.

No one is proud to go to McDonald's.  I remember the first time I succumbed to the drive-thru when my girls were very little.  I was stressed out and they were screaming, and instead of dropping everying, heading home, and chopping up carrot sticks, I found myself frantically tossing chicken McNuggets at the backseat and drowning my woes in a large Diet Coke.  Whew.

Literally fell asleep holding a chicken McNugget

I'm over the guilt now.  Maybe it's exhaustion, or laziness, or just the fact that I don't have time or mental space to dedicate to feeling badly about my toddler falling asleep holding a chicken McNugget.  But, meeting friends for a play date at McDonald's provides a different outlet for my mental health that I can live with.  Meeting friends, letting my kids be silly, allowing them a little autonomy and freedom and space, while I can actually finish a meal with limited distraction and even engage in conversations with other grown-ups...well, that's worth a LOT in my book.

Obviously, I'm not promoting a new diet for children that's cheeseburger-centric.  If you can always plan ahead and create home-cooked meals for your kids, that's certainly the best option for food.  But, if you're like me, then mealtimes don't always have to center around the nutritional value (albeit, important) but can extend to the relational value found as well.  While nutritional and relational values don't have to be mutually exclusive - sometimes they are.

All this to say, sometimes I think it's more important to take guilt off the menu than sugar or fat.

So, if you find yourself guilt-ridden in a drive-thru or cringing at the thought of what your toddler might be ingesting for the sake of a few minutes peace...join me in a refreshing sigh of relief knowing that you aren't alone.  Your kids will be okay.  Your kids will still eat vegetables.  Your kids can still grow up knowing the value of time together at the family dinner table.  Your kids won't be totally spoiled.  Your kids are NORMAL.  And, if they make some new friends over a french fries and sweat their way to nap-time in a castle of grime, maybe you can even smile about it.

They don't call it a Happy Meal for nothing.

For a fun feature, here's comedian Jim Gaffigan's bit about McDonald's.  There are few crass moments (I wouldn't watch it with the kids) but, it's great for a laugh.  Enjoy, mamas!

Fiesta!

Happy Cinco de Mayo!  The day of the year we can all guiltlessly stuff ourselves with chips, salsa, tacos, and more while happily blaming it on a holiday we don't know much about.  Hey - any reason to eat more Mexican food sounds great to me!

This year, we stepped up our fiesta planning skills and took on Cinco de Mayo Pardy style!  Well, truly it was Tres de Mayo...but, we ran with the theme and turned it into a housewarming celebration to open our new home up to our family and friends.

Beautiful banner made by my sis-in-law!
Pardy Casa Es Su Casa!

This was an incredible blessing for us, and a real dream come true for me and Josh.  Sure, it was a blast to be able to show off our new digs (we painted this, replaced this, yadda yadda yadda).  But, it blessed us the most to be able to have the space to welcome in multiple people who have brought joy, support, prayers, and new friendships into our lives.

Piñata Time!

Just a year ago, I was starting to pack up boxes in our California apartment and beginning to get the word out that our little family was making the cross-country move to Music City.  Now, here we are, planting roots in our new city and building relationships that will shape our family in our new time and place.  To be able to extend hospitality in a setting that nurtures togetherness, laughter, fun, and community was beyond our wildest imaginations at this point in our journey, and we are so, so grateful!

I'm thrilled to share some fun snapshots from the first Pardy Party in our new home!  I hope it's a start to many more.

I pray our home is a place where everyone feels they can drop by and always count on enjoying good conversation (and most likely good coffee/food/dessert).  I pray when people enter our home they notice the presence of the love of Jesus, that there is something oddly welcoming beyond our own hospitality, and that they can sense a loveliness in the difference that is marked by this divine interference.

I hope you all have a fantastic Cinco de Mayo - gathering with friends around a giant chip bowl and setting new records of hot sauce consumption!  Our fiesta was a big hit, but I ended up making so much food that I think we'll be celebrating taco night until Memorial Day.  Hey, I'm not complaining!

¡Salud!

By the way, want a quick review of what this holiday is actually celebrating?  I found this fun video on History.com that sums it up:

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

This last weekend, I finally got around to doing something I've wanted to do for the past several weeks:  make cookies for my new neighbors.  Ever since closing on our new house just over a month ago, we've been fiddling and dilly-dallying about our home like little squirrels preparing for winter.  Fix this, repair that, paint here, unpack there, and so forth.   I'm sure our neighbors have been wide-eyed at their windows a bit, wondering just who we are and what we're up to.

I'm not used to neighborhoods.  I grew up on a farm in the middle of Kansas, where our closest "neighbor" was a couple miles away and I only saw them if they needed to borrow a tractor or let us into their cellar for a tornado (no, I'm not kidding).  Needless to say, I didn't grow up with that "Wonder Years" experience of riding bikes until the street lights came on or strolling down sidewalks on my way home from school.  

Since then, I've either lived in dorms or apartments, and while we've experienced community throughout the years, this is our first true neighborhood that we can call our own.  Yay for neighbors!

I wasn't exactly sure how to get to know my neighbors.  I've officially met a few of them as we got our mail at the same time or arrived in our drive ways coming and going.  But, there were still many houses on our block that I had yet to see whom lived inside.  I wanted them to know that the new residents of this little house were happy and loud, and obliged to offer an extra egg or cup of sugar should the need arise.

So, we made cookies!  I figured, at worst, I'd rather be known as "that lady with the loud kids who once brought us cookies" than anything else they could come up with from witnessing me from afar.  What could we lose?  It might be awkward and uncomfortable, but at least they would know we tried to make an effort and introduce ourselves.

Most people weren't home.  We walked around on a beautiful Saturday, knocking, and eventually leaving a ziploc'd plate of cookies tagged with our "Happy to be in the neighborhood" slogan written on top.  We did meet a few new people, who informed us of their joy of living in the neighborhood.  We were also thrilled to find out that a total of three police officers live within a block of our house, which made us feel all the more safe living in our cozy nook.

And, then, we walked up to our elderly neighbors with whom we very nearly share a yard.  While our yard is fully fenced, on one side of it it slopes up to another yard which we both have clear views of from our homes.  I had met the wife who lived their, and she was quite happy to meet us and our little girls, glad to see someone using the yard with such jubilant delight.

There were a few people standing outside the home as we approached with our cookie-giving entourage, and we noticed an unusual amount of cars in the driveway.  My first thought was, "Oh, how nice to have people over on such a lovely day!  I hope they like the cookies!" which quickly turned to sadness as I got closer.  The elderly husband had passed away that same morning, just hours before.  

We politely handed over our feeble plate of cookies and sent our prayers and sympathies to the family as we left.  My goodness, it was such a shock, we were so very sorry for disturbing the moment.  Nevertheless, I was grateful to know of the news and glad we could offer our condolences. 

You just never know who you will touch, what timing might be set up before you, or exactly why you might be prompted to take action.  I had meant to deliver those cookies weeks before, but if I had, maybe I would have never known about our neighbor mourning.  And, what if I never bothered to introduce our family at all?  Who knows how those little cookies might be used...but, at least that morning they made a difference to one family, no matter how little a piece of distraction or joy it may have brought.

Later that day, while I was out running errands, the sweet neighbor lady came out to the yard and spoke with Josh, thanking us for the neighborly token.  I sure hope this is only the beginning of how we integrate ourselves into this little neighborhood.  It might be a long time before we get to know everyone, but it only took a morning for us to let everyone know a little bit about us.  

Sure, years ago it used to be common for neighborhoods to be the one to bring cookies to the "new kids on the block", but we just don't live in that era anymore.  I'm thrilled to flip the tables and take the opportunity to reach out and see what happens.  Yep, it was awkward.  Yep, it took time and energy.  But, I'm thankful God prompted my heart to take that step outside my comfort zone and privileged to have witnessed the difference it made already.

It was a good reminder to me that sometimes you don't need to wait for an invitation...you just need to step out. The truth is, you just never know who might need a cookie. 

Getting Messy

Life with toddlers is often messy.  I can't walk across a room in my house without a Cheerio sticking to my heel or a crayon snapping beneath my feet.  Children are a package deal - with a trail of crumbs and sticky fingers that accompany their adorableness.  Yes, I'm constantly in awe of how my girls can take a perfectly tidy room and destroy it into a toyland of smithereens within a lapse of five minutes...or, however long it takes me to step away and prepare their breakfast.

But, the joys of having two kids so close together abound when it comes to activities.  Because they are only 20 months apart, I don't really have to worry about entertaining them each at their own level (slightly, at times, but not significantly) as they can share in the same craft or game or story time.

The other day, I (amidst the chaos) decided we would make muffins...as a team...as a project...together.  This seemed like a simple enough idea in the moment because (against the purist foodie that I am in my heart) I had recently purchased some easy "just add milk" muffin mixes.  Simple enough:  bowl, mix, milk, stir, bake, and voila!  Muffins!

I think it was by the third lick of the whisk that I realized my girls were going to be devouring these muffins all by themselves.  Batter was flinging about, and their JOY in the creation of it wasn't just due to their participation - but in the sheer mess of it!

I stepped back.  Hands off.  And I soaked up the image of their smiling faces, four little feet planted side-by-side on a chair, two swirling whisks splattering batter about, and I calmly stepped back into the scene and tried to reign in their fun towards a productive action.

You know what I mean - we all want to be fun and effective parents!  It's hard to walk the line of patient and frustrated.  I don't want to squash their little spirits - but, I don't want to be scrubbing muffin mix out of the cracks in my kitchen for years to come either!

The truth of the matter is, in order for them to learn and have fun...it's just going to be messy.

This is one of those moments where I get a glimpse of how, as a parent-to-a-child, God must view me at times.  He loves me, He wants me to learn and grow and desire Him more, and He wants nothing but blessings and goodness for my life...and here I am, flinging my mess all over the place, stirring up all kinds of trouble in the name of self-interest.  It's not all bad, but too often I can make things much harder on myself (much messier!) when I try to do it my way.

It's true that life is gonna get messy no matter what.  Only Jesus lived a perfect life and even HE didn't have it mess-free! (Far from it!)

What mess are you in the middle of right now?  Can you laugh about it?  Can you get help with it?  Can you hang on just a little longer?

Because often, if I can just embrace the mess and keep my eye on what's to come...well, it just might lead to a delicious ending.

TBT: Meat & Potatoes

*In the spirit of TBT (Throw-Back-Thursday) - I thought it would be fun to start something new on Thursdays and re-issue some of my more popular posts.  This post is from November 2012 and I hope you enjoy it!

The other day, I was at a crossroads.  Perhaps you've been there before.  It was early afternoon and I was just beginning to think about that age old (yet, daily) question:  What's for dinner?  The pickings were slim.  I didn't want to order in (scratch that, I did want to order in, but we really couldn't afford it and I knew I shouldn't cop out of dinner-making one more time that week) and I definitely did not want to load up the girls in the car, unload them, scream and cry our way through a trip around the grocery store, and have to come all the way back home to start cooking.  Ugh, that sounded terrible to me.


So, I faced my cupboards and my fears and decided with all my might to figure out something that could be constructed into an edible excuse for supper.  I sighed as I sifted through my barren pantry, finding a can of this or that.  I yanked out my last pound of meat at the back of the freezer (ground turkey!) and found some frozen peas next to it.  I dug around the bins of my fridge and discovered leftover potatoes that hadn't rotted through yet.  I know, this sounds scary to most of you, but I was so determined to scrape by until payday that I had really let our kitchen become quite meager.  Still, I knew I could pull something together.  Something.

As I surfed the Internet for ideas, it suddenly struck me.  Maybe it was the crisp new chill in the air, but suddenly the need for comfort food hit my belly and mashed potatoes crossed my brain.  Aha - that was it - Shepherd's Pie!  For those of you who may not know, Shepherd's Pie is a sort of an old "peasant" kind of dish, meant for recycling leftovers for people who don't have access to the first round of good food.  It's a layered dish of meat and vegetables topped with mashed potatoes.  Generally, around here anyway, you see it with ground beef, carrots, corn, and peas.  The topping of buttery mashed potatoes is really its selling point, let's be honest here.

Voila!  Shepherd's Pie it was, and as the weather got chillier and our tummies grew hungrier, the better and better it was smelling.  Sure enough, by the time we ate, it was super delicious.  Yay - a hit!  And I was mighty proud that I had scavenged our cabinets and turned our humble means into something quite delectable.  (Great recipe here for those of you wondering!)

It wasn't until hours afterward, with my hunger and dignity satisfied, that it occurred to me what an analogy my day had become.  As I tucked my girls into bed for the night, exhausted from another haphazardly wonder-filled day, it struck me how motherhood is like that silly Shepherd's Pie.

In the day-to-day events, motherhood is such a mess.  It really is.  I must look at the clock about 13 times a day, and I have no idea why except for the fact that it helps confirm one thing to me:  this too shall pass.  I love motherhood.  Sincerely!  I cherish these precious girlies the Lord has blessed me with.  I want nothing more than to be with them, nurture them, engage with them, help guide them.  But, boy oh boy can they press my buttons!  Whew!

The hour-by-hour focus that two little toddlers requires of me is astounding.  At their best, they are talking non-stop, running around, climbing, throwing food or clothes, or trying to leap from furniture.  And at their worst, well, let's just say I've had to clean Play-Doh out of carpets, crayons off of walls, get glue and honey and paint and applesauce out of hair, and keep them from strangling each other with dress up clothes or jewelry.  It's crazy business, let me tell you!  In fact, just today it crossed my mind that, "Hey, God, if even EVE couldn't keep her kids from killing each other, how do you expect me to?!?"  Sometimes I wonder.

The everyday mischief is just like those peas and carrots.  It's just like that freezer burned ground meat or those nearly rotten potatoes.  You line it all up and it looks like nothing but a heap of garbage.  What a mess.

But, you're looking at it all wrong.  There's more to it then that.  (Hold on, I'm gonna go all Karate Kid on you here!)  How many times has an older mother passed by you and your youngins in public and looked at you sweetly, maybe even stopped and said something like "Oh, how wonderful, I remember those days!  Cherish them!"?  Do you think she is remembering the rotten potatoes?  Heavens, no.  She's smelling the Shepherd's Pie.

All these days, these terribly exhausting days of trouble, they are all adding up into a terrific era of our lives.  I just know it.  I can't quite see it, at least, not while I'm in the middle of it and just want to strap my toddler to her highchair so I can please just fold this basket of laundry that's been sitting in my living room for a week!  Please!?  But, I know it's true.

Some days, when the dust settles long enough for the sunlight to beam in just right and my girls are smiling and my brain hits pause just long enough to capture a moment in time that looks better than any Instagram filter ever could...I get a glimpse of the big picture.  I can very nearly imagine myself an old woman trying to recall this very moment.  I can almost smell the memory of the present, though it is happening right in front of me, as if it were decades ago and I'm longing for the sweet innocence of not knowing their futures.  I blink, and their older.  I blink, and I forget it all.  I blink, and suddenly I am back in the throws of the day and just struggling to survive once more.  Peas and carrots, again.

This daily struggle matters.  This mess that we're trying to make sense of, it will make sense before we know it, and all too soon we will be smacking our lips wondering why we ever thought it seemed so terrible.  We don't have to wait until then to believe it will be satisfying.  Take hold of it right now, dig right it, get messy and creative and believe in what you are doing, because before its all over you will want to know that this was part of what makes it great.

You're in the thick of it, mamas.  This is real meat and potatoes kind of life stuff.  Keep up the good work, and savor every second.

My City, pt 2

Today and tomorrow, I'm diving into my new city.  In reality, there are many "areas" of town that can offer you a variety of flavors.  But, for this mini-tour, I'll take you to Hipsterville, Countryville, and few hidden gems you might not hit in Nashville if you didn't know about them.  Sure, I've only been back a couple months - you can probably get more information from Yelp or Travel Advisor, but stick around if you want the ten-cent-Pardy tour.

First things first, a good breakfast.  There are three places that are "quintessential Nashville" that I would proudly take you for breakfast if you come visit.  The Loveless Cafe (a bit outside of town), The Puffy Muffin (technically in Brentwood), or The Pancake Pantry.  Go to Loveless if you want biscuits and gingham table cloths.  Go to the Puffy Muffin if you want to throw a baby shower and serve amazing quiche.  But, GO (run, don't walk) to the Pancake Pantry if you want history smothered in syrup.

You will definitely wait in line, rain or shine, any day of the week.  But, The Pancake Pantry is pure Nashville, and you just might see a celebrity there.  (The dining room is wide open, so there's no where for them to hide!) I recommend the orange and walnut pancakes, my personal favorite, and don't fill up on coffee too much so that you can walk next door for some killer lattes at FIDO just up the street.

The street you'll be on, in fact, is 21st Ave, one of my favorite parts of town.  Unfortunately, it's a LOT of people's favorite parts of town, so parking can get a bit tricky.  But, it's worth it since there's plenty to do while you're there.   Twenty-first is kinda hipsterville, I won't lie.  Everyone is young and hip and writing something (songs, mostly, but also books or poetry or just blogging like I do!)  You'll want to wear your skinny jeans and leave your hair messy, but don't worry - get a latte from FIDO and you'll fit in just fine (order the Local Latte, made with real local honey, and you won't regret it).


Then, walk across the street to Pangaea, an eclectic and fun little shop that carries everything from kitschy Nashville lampshades to handmade jewelry, some clothing, and other anthro-type accessories for your home that you never knew you always wanted.

Just around the corner is Belcourt Theatre, a little independent cinema that shows everything from newish indie releases to old school cult classics.  Sometimes they even host events or live music, their schedule is about as unpredictable as their audience.

After you've got your latte in hand and your new stack of handmade stationery from one of the local shops, you're ready to get back in your car and hit up Centennial Park at West End, just a few miles away.  You'd be surprised how many Nashvillians don't go to Centennial Park that often.  At least, having come from California, it's amazing to me that people aren't constantly flocking to such open space in the middle of an urban setting...but, then again, land isn't as hard to come by out here (collective deep sigh here).

Centennial Park is open, beautiful, and landmarked spectacularly by the Parthenon, a full-scale replica of the actual Parthenon located in Athens, Greece.  It was originally constructed in 1897 as part of the Tennessee Centennial Exposition, and you can read more about it here.

You can also walk around it for free (it's very peaceful) or pay to go inside and visit the art museum where you'll see a giant statue of the goddess Athena (and I do mean GIANT).  Centennial Park also has a little pond, a bandshell, and hosts fun things like "Shakespeare in the Park" and other local talent.  It's also great for letting your toddlers run around and burn off some serious energy.  Bring a frisbee.

When you've run up a good appetite, walk over at the edge of the park to Hog Heaven for some of the best bbq in the city (are you salivating yet?) In my opinion, however, you'd have to traverse a few more miles into the city for my absolute favorite bbq:  JACK'S in downtown Nashville.  Not only is Jack's an historical gem of the city, it's as downright delicious as a pig can get.  (Just bring a pack of baby wipes with you, and fully indulge in the pulled pork and brisket.  It's well worth the saucy beard you'll be flaunting afterward.)

And Yeehaw! just like that, we're downtown.  You'll want to stay late until the lights come on to experience downtown at night.  This is when the singer-songwriters all get off working their day jobs to hob knob the local scene and see if tonight is their night to get discovered (you really just never know). Leave the kids at home and get ready to walk the strip.  You'll inevitably hear live music bursting out of every doorway downtown after 8pm.  You'll want to hit The Stage, Tootsie's Orchid Lounge, Legends, and pop in the Ernest Tubb Record Shop just to say you did.  On Second Street, you'll want to see the Wildhorse Saloon, and then bounce around the corner to the riverfront.

The Nashville riverfront is beautiful.  You can see the stadium just across the river where the Titans play, and you can see the riverfront bandstand where a ton of festivals and bands rock out all summer long.

Downtown Nashville is also home of the Ryman, the original home of the Grand Ole Opry (and one of my favorite venues of all time).  You'll also find The Country Music Hall of Fame, FRIST center for the visual arts museum, Bridgestone Arena (where the Predators play and BIG concerts are held).  The Nashville Library is within walking distance, and Union Station Hotel is not far up the street (a beautiful and very old train-station-turned-hotel that's worth seeing).  Needless to say, there's LOTS to do downtown, and I'm sure I'm not touching on a zillion other things.

Whew!  You worn out?  Kick your boots up for a bit, and we'll hit the pavement again in the morning.

Tomorrow I'll be taking you to some spots off the beaten path and a little outside the city.

Bullseye

Well, I did it.  (High five, high five, high five!)  I went an entire YEAR without going to Target.

Did you ever doubt me?  I definitely did!  As with most resolutions, I crept into the year with some serious skepticism, found myself wondering why I took on this challenge, and then had moments of curiosity about why it was ever a big deal to begin with.  For a little background, you can read last year's post HERE and catch up at the half-way point HERE, all leading up to today.  Yup, this post has been a year in the making...so, here we go.

This morning, I got up like any other day, drank my giant mug of coffee and bribed my girls into eating breakfast and getting dressed so that we could get out the door before noon.  Whew.  Matilda is old enough to know exactly what "Do you want to go shopping?" means, and so it didn't take too much persuading.

However, when I said "Do you want to go to Target?" and she said "What's that?" I was taken aback for a second in remembering how she would have zero context for what or where that was.  It was so strange.  Like, when your little kid sees Michael Jackson or the Olympics on TV and you have to explain to them how this is something iconic and they should file it away in their little brains as part of the American Institution of life.  Remember this, kid, tuck this away, you don't want to look like an idiot when someone refers to this later in life.  Target, indeed, has become an American Institution.  And, like it or not, shopping has become an American pastime that we all rather pride ourselves in.

Coming off the heels of Christmas, we're all still wringing ourselves dry from dripping with the saturation of overt consumerism that we call "gift giving".  We've seen deals come and go.  We've wrapped and unwrapped and exchanged and gift carded our fair share of things just as we all do at the end of every year.  By the time January comes along, we're sad to see the glow of our Christmas trees dim, but we're all slightly anxious to step back into routine and relax in the comfort of our newly visitor-less homes.  As much as we dread the emptiness of a new year upon us, there is something calm and lovely about it too.  Clean slates.  New hopes.  And a chance to right some wrongs that perhaps we misstepped the year before.

And so, a calm bravery swept upon me as I drove my girls to the land of Target...a journey that I, not so long ago, took with ease and familiarity.  But now, as I parked and yanked a cart from the army of red crates before me, I found myself perplexed with caution and delight.

Here I was - I made it!  A whole year of Wal-Mart and Big Lots and Old Navy, and finally, finally, finally, after all the months of manna, I'd been let into the Promised Land once more.  Target!  Hello my old friend!

And yet, I felt no comfort.  I felt no reciprocating joy at my return.  I felt no peace at piling my cart with trinkets or deals that I had conquered by the aisle.  My guard was up, and I was very serious about this battle.

What the heck is going on?  I've gotta get out of this funk!

I had envisioned a lovely return to Target.  I had envisioned a relaxed, enjoyable mixture of entertainment and refined shopping.  I was determined to combine my needs for what I came for (shopping list in hand) along with my desire for an uplifting experience.  This seems reasonable, right?

Naturally, as most things in my life seem to, this required some caffeine behind it.  I had to start the trip off right, and so, the girls and I stopped off for a snack (latte for me, milk and madeleines for them) before continuing our shopping escapade.

This would help, I thought.  I just need to get back into the feel of how it used to be.  Relax and have fun.  I won't go crazy, I'll be fine.  Just stroll around and take it in and see what I discover.  What's this trip all about?  What do they have in store for me?  Get what I need and see how it all compares to the last year of shopping that I've encountered.  

Ah, okay.  (By the way, I know this all sounds dramatic and ridiculous to those of you who just went shopping and perhaps thought nothing of it.  I get that.  I absolutely and totally have been there.)  But, this trip was (in a word) weird for me.  I have been away.  I have seen the Matrix.  I have returned and have a newly developed, extremely acute awareness of what Target is wanting me to experience right now.  And, well, it wasn't working.

Here's my analysis:  Target is brilliant.  I mean, freaking genius.  They are purposeful in every way.  They are masterminds at drawing my attention to where I think I'm the one making decisions for myself in my best interest.  But, I'm not.  Well, I wouldn't have been before today, anyway.  And, while I've been outside of the store and not shopped Target online at all in 365 days...I'm not immune to their ad campaigns in the mail or on TV and can wholeheartedly say they have just about the cutest most clever marketing out there.  Agreed?

Here's the Target experience:
I walk in.  Lovely red carts all lined up.  Not the heavy metal ones.  No, these babies are plastic and easy and with a  complimentary wipe station right next to it because they know I'm a mom who's hoping her kids do not get the flu, thank you very much, don't mind if I do.  Latte?  Why, sure!  Why not.  It's right there and the kids want popcorn or milk or something and it will help quiet them down while I shop so what's a few bucks up front to ensure a productive visit?  Done.  Now remember, we're here for hand soap, diapers and toilet paper.  That's it.
First stop:  dollar bins. Hello bargain shopper!  Right away I feel like I've come to the best place possible.  Everything is a DOLLAR in this 12'X10' area, so how harmful could it be?  Cute socks, some stickers, maybe a little monogrammed anything because it's only a dollar, so why not?  Okay, on to the first item on the actual shopping list.
Wait?  Does that come in my size?  Women's clothes is first thing when you walk in.  Cute stuff up front, bargains in back.  And, does that say Neiman Marcus?  Aren't they that shmancy New York store that is like super-high-dollar that I saw on that makeover show that one time?  How could I afford that?  But, one glance at a price tag and I get a little rush at the thought that I can afford it.  No, I can't think of a setting that is yet-on-the-calendar to wear this cute dress to...but, for that price I will come up with a new excuse to show off this new little number.  I want it.  And my husband will agree once he sees me in it.  I'm sure.
Okay, back to shopping.  Stuff for kids.  Toiletries.  Paper goods.  Check check check.  Is that Nate Berkus?  What's he doing here?  Oh my gosh, that is the cutest towel set I've ever seen.  That bedding matches?  AND a throw pillow?  I love it.  I want it.  But, I shouldn't.  But, I could.  But, now I feel guilty.  Okay, I should buy my husband something so I feel less guilty.  Okay, I'll swing by electronics and get him that CD that's only $11.99 and he'll thank me later for it all and just be glad I spared him a shopping trip with these little hooligans.
Fine!  We'll stop by the toys.  Here, take this.  Fine, what's $5 for your happiness and whatever stops your whining.  I'm exhausted.  Crap, I totally forgot about dinner.  Let's swing by the groceries.  And, oh yeah, we're out of milk.  Whatever, I'll just grab it since I'm here already.  Yogurts on sale?  Chips?  Okay, that looks good.  That's it, we're leaving.
Clearance sign.  What?  Well, I'll just peek.  70% OFF?  For real?  I don't have anywhere to put this candle, but isn't it my cousin's birthday next week?  Birthday!  Oh yeah, I just about forgot my nephew's birthday!  Let's grab a card on the way to the register.  Better get a gift card too.
Okay, we're really done.  I'm outta here.  That'll be how much?  But all I bought was toilet paper, right?  Sigh. Whoops, I totally forgot to buy diapers.

Does that sound familiar to anybody else?  Don't leave me hanging here!  They've got us figured out.  Here is the beauty of Target:  They are cheap enough that it feels like you aren't buying expensive things, but just expensive enough that you don't feel like you're buying cheap things.  Catch my drift?  They have perfectly priced themselves to entice you just enough so that the ways in which you justify your items outweigh any hesitations you might have.  And, somehow, they have products RIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR FACES to help us eliminate any hesitations we might be dealing with, perpetuating the spending cycle.

They are geniuses at this in two major ways:  1)  product placement (this is kind of a no-brainer) and 2) gift-cards-as-coupons.  This has "sucker" written all over it.  All over the aisles of Target is this new "incentive bargain".  You don't get to actually save any money today, but rather, when you buy 2 (or 3 or more or whatever) of something, you can get a $5 (or more) gift card to come back and spend later.

Well, guess what me and every other shopper out there are doing when we see this sign?  We're subtracting $5 (or more) from the listed price and convinced we are getting a heck of a deal.  Beware!  They just hooked you in to come back and shop again (for, no doubt, more than $5 worth) and are counting on at least a zillion of us to misplace, lose, or forget about that $5 card they just handed us.  Boom - brilliant.

Here's my last thought on Target's marketing.  Their brands.  We love them.  We're not ashamed to buy "Target brand" anything.  It's not grosser or weaker or uglier than the name brands that we're used to being suckered into.  It's not "Wal-Mart-grade" or "Big-Lots-caliber".  Not in the least.  We're totally prideful in Archer Farms, Market Place, Up-n-Up, Method and all the other pseudo-saver-types that catch our eyes and let us know that we are doing the economical thing by not splurging for the elite-top-shelf-quality-brand that we recognize a mile away.  Target knows this.  Target appreciates this.  And Target places their version of whatever-it-is EXACTLY NEXT TO the others so that you can feel like you are competitively shopping with the utmost of accuracy.

Bullseye.  Target, I'm starting to see your true colors.  You did me wrong, making me think that I needed you so badly.  Turns out, you are just aisles and aisles full of things I never knew I could completely live without.  And I would know - I did it!

The thing about Target, the thing they most brilliantly have mastered, is that they have figured out my weakness of where my line of "giving in" is at.  See, I don't have a problem with caving and spending an obscene amount of money on a Coach bag or Prada dress.  I am not that tempted to buy designer furniture or one-of-a-kind art.  I very rarely (if ever) find myself accidentally stumbling upon products I grossly can't afford or have zero use for.  This is why it's not as difficult to deny myself things when I'm in a fancy store - I already know what I'm in for.  I know I can't afford it.  It's not an option, and so, I don't entertain the desire.

But, when you place similar items ever-so-slightly out of reach and plunge them into a setting surrounded by every day essentials...they immediately become pieces to a puzzle that you never knew were missing.  You can envision it.  You see it.  You like it.  And then, since it's right next to the aisle of detergent that you use every day, you suddenly can't see your life without it.

Until I saw my life without it.

This might all seem quite abstract to you.  Perhaps you haven't thought about all this quite as in-depth, but chances are good several of these observations have crossed your subconscious at some point, right?  Nothing that I'm revealing to you is actual news, necessarily, it's just that I'm probably the only person you know who's stepped outside the box to see what difference it might make.

And so, here's the difference:  What do I really want?

I guess it is sort of that simple.  I had no plumb-line to gauge my wants before ridding myself of the temptations that compelled them.  Leaving Target for a year gave me the opportunity to rely on my own perceptions of how far I was willing to give, get, or go in order to gain what I really wanted.  Sometimes this meant multiple grocery trips in one day.  Sometimes this meant waiting for a better deal.  Sometimes this meant traveling further to find what I needed.  Sometimes this meant intentionally caving for the sake of convenience.  But, it was all on my terms.  Sure, others attempt to lure you in with deals or lights or coupons, etc.  I'm not immune to marketing or propaganda.  I didn't leave America or television behind, I understand that.  But, I side-stepped the beast that had baited me for years.  I got a glimpse of my true appetite and took the time to seek out what I deemed worthy to consume.

Will I be regularly shopping at Target from now on?  No, I don't think so.  Many of the new habits I developed over the last year have stuck for good.  I feel like I've gained a new perspective on things being just things and value lying in the intention and use behind them.  I have found wonderfully creative alternatives for just about everything from gift-giving to recipes to clothing and home improvement.  And you know what, I haven't lost one friend along the way because of it!  No one is the wiser to the pennies that I've been saving, and no one has ever stopped me and gasped out of the notion that I may or may not have purchased said item at a second hand store.

I have plenty to say about this whole experience and I'm certain more blogs are to come as these revelations (now, post-Target-boycott) become clearer to me.  In the meantime, I'm thrilled to have made it out of Target alive, necessities met, and only one little $5 incentive-card burning a hole in my thrift-store-pants pocket.

Meat & Potatoes

The other day, I was at a crossroads.  Perhaps you've been there before.  It was early afternoon and I was just beginning to think about that age old (yet, daily) question:  What's for dinner?  The pickings were slim.  I didn't want to order in (scratch that, I did want to order in, but we really couldn't afford it and I knew I shouldn't cop out of dinner-making one more time that week) and I definitely did not want to load up the girls in the car, unload them, scream and cry our way through a trip around the grocery store, and have to come all the way back home to start cooking.  Ugh, that sounded terrible to me.

So, I faced my cupboards and my fears and decided with all my might to figure out something that could be constructed into an edible excuse for supper.  I sighed as I sifted through my barren pantry, finding a can of this or that.  I yanked out my last pound of meat at the back of the freezer (ground turkey!) and found some frozen peas next to it.  I dug around the bins of my fridge and discovered leftover potatoes that hadn't rotted through yet.  I know, this sounds scary to most of you, but I was so determined to scrape by until payday that I had really let our kitchen become quite meager.  Still, I knew I could pull something together.  Something.

As I surfed the Internet for ideas, it suddenly struck me.  Maybe it was the crisp new chill in the air, but suddenly the need for comfort food hit my belly and mashed potatoes crossed my brain.  Aha - that was it - Shepherd's Pie!  For those of you who may not know, Shepherd's Pie is a sort of an old "peasant" kind of dish, meant for recycling leftovers for people who don't have access to the first round of good food.  It's a layered dish of meat and vegetables topped with mashed potatoes.  Generally, around here anyway, you see it with ground beef, carrots, corn, and peas.  The topping of buttery mashed potatoes is really its selling point, let's be honest here.

Voila!  Shepherd's Pie it was, and as the weather got chillier and our tummies grew hungrier, the better and better it was smelling.  Sure enough, by the time we ate, it was super delicious.  Yay - a hit!  And I was mighty proud that I had scavenged our cabinets and turned our humble means into something quite delectable.  (Great recipe here for those of you wondering!)

It wasn't until hours afterward, with my hunger and dignity satisfied, that it occurred to me what an analogy my day had become.  As I tucked my girls into bed for the night, exhausted from another haphazardly wonder-filled day, it struck me how motherhood is like that silly Shepherd's Pie.

In the day-to-day events, motherhood is such a mess.  It really is.  I must look at the clock about 13 times a day, and I have no idea why except for the fact that it helps confirm one thing to me:  this too shall pass.  I love motherhood.  Sincerely!  I cherish these precious girlies the Lord has blessed me with.  I want nothing more than to be with them, nurture them, engage with them, help guide them.  But, boy oh boy can they press my buttons!  Whew!

The hour-by-hour focus that two little toddlers requires of me is astounding.  At their best, they are talking non-stop, running around, climbing, throwing food or clothes, or trying to leap from furniture.  And at their worst, well, let's just say I've had to clean Play-Doh out of carpets, crayons off of walls, get glue and honey and paint and applesauce out of hair, and keep them from strangling each other with dress up clothes or jewelry.  It's crazy business, let me tell you!  In fact, just today it crossed my mind that, "Hey, God, if even EVE couldn't keep her kids from killing each other, how do you expect me to?!?"  Sometimes I wonder.

The everyday mischief is just like those peas and carrots.  It's just like that freezer burned ground meat or those nearly rotten potatoes.  You line it all up and it looks like nothing but a heap of garbage.  What a mess.

But, you're looking at it all wrong.  There's more to it then that.  (Hold on, I'm gonna go all Karate Kid on you here!)  How many times has an older mother passed by you and your youngins in public and looked at you sweetly, maybe even stopped and said something like "Oh, how wonderful, I remember those days!  Cherish them!"?  Do you think she is remembering the rotten potatoes?  Heavens, no.  She's smelling the Shepherd's Pie.

All these days, these terribly exhausting days of trouble, they are all adding up into a terrific era of our lives.  I just know it.  I can't quite see it, at least, not while I'm in the middle of it and just want to strap my toddler to her highchair so I can please just fold this basket of laundry that's been sitting in my living room for a week!  Please!?  But, I know it's true.

Some days, when the dust settles long enough for the sunlight to beam in just right and my girls are smiling and my brain hits pause just long enough to capture a moment in time that looks better than any Instagram filter ever could...I get a glimpse of the big picture.  I can very nearly imagine myself an old woman trying to recall this very moment.  I can almost smell the memory of the present, though it is happening right in front of me, as if it were decades ago and I'm longing for the sweet innocence of not knowing their futures.  I blink, and their older.  I blink, and I forget it all.  I blink, and suddenly I am back in the throws of the day and just struggling to survive once more.  Peas and carrots, again.

This daily struggle matters.  This mess that we're trying to make sense of, it will make sense before we know it, and all too soon we will be smacking our lips wondering why we ever thought it seemed so terrible.  We don't have to wait until then to believe it will be satisfying.  Take hold of it right now, dig right it, get messy and creative and believe in what you are doing, because before its all over you will want to know that this was part of what makes it great.

You're in the thick of it, mamas.  This is real meat and potatoes kind of life stuff.  Keep up the good work, and savor every second.

Food For Thought

September is here!  And with it, comes much relief that August has passed.  Whew.  August was an unusually busy month for us, and with a husband working in the education system it seemed like every day was leading up to the big back-to-school moment.  But, also (just for kicks) I decided to throw another wrench in the cogs of the Pardy-go-round and undergo another entire month of NOT eating out!

Yes, you might recall that we did this same experiment back in January.  So, I sort of had an idea of what I was getting into (i.e. cooking, cooking, and more cooking).  But, there was a vast difference between this month's experiment and January's:  planning.  Or, lack thereof, I should say.

Yep, this month I entirely winged it.  Not even a shopping list.  Not one item written on the calendar.  Not one meal prepped ahead of time or stored in the freezer.  I just knew that we were going to eat at home - every meal, every day.  That was the goal, anyway.

I'll tell you right off the bat - we each "cheated" once.  My husband really didn't even mean to - he just forgot it was August 1st and simply ate out at lunch the very first day out of sheer habit.  Whoopsie.  Oh well.  As for me, my lack of planning (even though I was planning to not plan - ha!) simply got the best of me.  Halfway through the month, I was out shopping with the girls and noon (and hunger) hit.  We were not nearly done with our errands and they had chomped their way through the snacks I'd brought with us almost as soon as we had left the house.  They were cranky and starving and frankly, I had to weigh my options:  Go all the way back to the house to scrounge around for scraps (as grocery shopping was on the list of our errands to run), or Drive thru Chick-Fil-A and calm our souls and stomachs for and easy ten bucks.

Needless to say, the value of convenience won out that day, and it was totally worth it at the time.  However, the next night when I made an entire roast chicken for $3.20 that fed all of us for the next two nights...it struck me just how completely insane it is that I paid twice as much for one meal for one person.  Crazy.

We all know that eating at home is cheaper and generally healthier.  It does take extra time and effort, usually, and as a person without a dishwasher, I can genuinely say that it doesn't always feel worth it.  But, after the dishes are done and the oven has cooled and our tummies are full of delicious foods I slaved over...it helps me refocus on why we are even eating in the first place.

Yes, we have some bananas!

Food is fuel.  We know this.  It gives us energy to burn and calories to keep our bodies functioning properly.  But, I think we can almost all agree that food is so much more than that.  Food is family-time.  Food is friendship-building.  Food is rewarding and creative and inspiring and, at times, even nostalgic or romantic.

So often we think of food as just something we put in front of us to enjoy and devour and get us through the day.  But really, food has the power to give power to whatever you put in front of it.

You put a couple of cranky kids in front of one cookie...you will start an argument.  You put an amorous couple in front of one cookie...you will spark romance.  You put a whole family (and a little creativity) in front of one cookie...you might trigger a game.  You put a dieter in front of one cookie...you fuel will power (or potential guilt).

You see what I'm saying here.  Food can ignite emotions in us if we spend the time to evaluate and appreciate it.

Sure, I do these silly family experiments (i.e. giving up Target for a year or whatever) to save us money, or be healthier, but it also helps us regain our values and refocus our energy to what we truly deem important.  When we eat out, I find myself assigning value to convenience (sometimes very valid - as it was on the shopping day!) or because it saves me energy or dishes or sanity.  But, when I just eliminate the option for a chunk of time (and, a month quickly feels like an eternity when you are cooking this much!) I suddenly feel myself empowered to be able to make it happen.  I do have the energy.  I do have the time.  I do have the creativity and resources and ability.  I do because, if I don't...we don't eat!

Not planning ahead was super difficult this month.  Many (many) nights it felt like I was starring in an episode of Chopped on the Food Network.  (You know, that show where they open a basket of unknown/surprise ingredients and have to somehow make a meal using it all!?)  I would look in my cupboards and fridge and just Tim-Gunn-it into something edible (that is, I would just have to "Make it work!")

Okay, let's see, we got some leftover roast chicken, a can of tomatoes, some olive oil, a clove of garlic, half a pack of rotini, I got some basil in the garden, maybe that spinach is still good....and....GO!" 

It is a cooking challenge, no doubt.  And, with two little kids, it's not like I could up and run to the grocery store every day either.  I just had to work with what I had, be willing to bake from scratch or take a risk or try a recipe that I googled...and keep some cereal on back-up just in case.

I wanted to try to go a month without eating out and without planning this month for one major reason:  to show you that you can do it too.  You can!  Stop rolling your eyes.  Maybe you don't need to.  Maybe you hate the idea.  But, you could do it, seriously.  You might not need to save the money or eat healthier or even spend extra time with your family (and if those are all true, please - tell me your secret!) but, maybe you just want to try something to spice up your usual routine and challenge yourself to see just what your food is empowering you to do.

Watermelon, fueling some silliness

Is your lunch fueling your frustration in getting your kids fed before nap time?  Is your supper triggering you to turn on the tv and avoid conversations about how your day really was?  Is your afternoon snack comforting you so you can just make it a few more hours before daddy gets home to help??

Sometimes it helps me to just stop, take a step back, and evaluate why I do what I'm doing.  We eat every day, and several times a day for that matter.  Food is part of our lives and can set the tone for how we treat ourselves and others around us.  Are we rushing around, being thoughtless and cheap and valuing convenience as our highest priority?  Or, are we willing to take time, maybe get a little messy, take a few risks, and be intentional about what we are really fueling in our homes?

(Am I talking about food or relationships here is the real question?)

I love restaurants.  I love eating out and appreciating how others can cook (not to mention, clean up!) the foods my family enjoys.  But, having these months of "time-out from going out" has been a great way for me to realign what I truly value for my family (plus, it's like a boot camp for my cooking skills).  Sure, it saved us money and calories; but more than anything, this experiment fed my family a new perspective for appreciating time with each other.  And that's something I hope we are always hungry for.

Detox

This last weekend the Pardys did something unprecedented in the Pardy home.  Unheard of.  Nearly, entirely foreign.  We did a 48 hour "detox diet" and have (barely) lived to tell about it.  Now, before you write this off as a totally "TMI" post about anecdotes of running to the bathroom all weekend, never you fear - it wasn't really that kind of body cleanse (thank goodness).  Since I'm still nursing baby Daphne, I wouldn't try anything too extreme and am not really into any kind of stimulant/crazy sort of flush.  No, no, none of that.

Since going on vacation last month and then having Daphne's birthday straight after, we had turned our usually moderately-healthy household into a regular sugar factory...seriously, I was expecting Willy Wonka to show up on my doorstep any day.  So, when I stumbled across "Dr. Oz's 48-hour Weekend Cleanse", it caught my eye and piqued my interest just enough to entertain the idea.

When I presented it to my husband (fully expecting raised eyebrows and a scoff of "Are you crazy?") I was shocked when he replied with a resounding "I could use that!"  Haha.  Alrighty then.  One long-receipted trip to Sprouts Market and we were off, so to speak.  Never before had my fridge encountered the likes of quinoa, fennel, raw ginger, or rice milk.  Needless to say I was a bit frightened and a little intimidated at what exactly might occur.

I'll be real honest here, I was pumped to get this going, but sincerely not sure if I could follow through.  After choking down the flax-seed-oil-soaked-quinoa and prunes for breakfast (sorry if you just threw up in your mouth a little bit at that) I genuinely hoped the rest of the day would be more palatable.

By 1pm I was sure it had been at least a week since we started the detox.  Turns out, I'm totally a wuss when it comes to this.  Not that I'm any stranger to depravity.  In fact, we had just agreed that August would be yet another month to entirely give up eating out.  That's right, we're at it again.  Fully cooking at home every meal and trying to pinch a few pennies here or there.  It is not easy and I can't say I'm "excited" to clean the dishes from each meal every night, but the challenge is inviting and I'm up for it knowing the reward in the end.

The challenge.  There you have it.  The real reason behind the detox.  I wasn't trying to shed any pounds or prove anything, necessarily.  I definitely had some unhealthy habits forming (I'm not sure anyone should be consuming as much Diet Coke as I had been???) But, I liked the idea of challenging myself with something short-term that seemed difficult yet attainable.

I don't know, maybe I've been watching the Olympics too much.  Maybe seeing all those crazy-fit people and their abs that pierce through my TV every night has gotten to me.  But, I just felt sluggish, slowish, and downright sloppy about feeding myself whatever happened to be convenient and around...not exactly a model example I want my children to live by!

By day two, I really thought I was losing my mind.  When you are completely in a normals state and feeling well, a smoothie the shade of anti-freeze is the last thing you want to consume.  But, when you are out-of-your-mind-starving-your-brains-out...you would rather go outside in the hot sun and mow the yard rather than drink one.  And that is exactly what "morning snack smoothie" tasted like...fresh cut grass.

Don't get me wrong, not everything on the diet was disgusting.  I could stomach the smoothing with blueberries and banana.  The vegetable soup was okay the first time around.  But, when you are dreaming of large pepperoni pizzas as you gulp down something that looks like you scraped it off the bottom of your shoe...well, it's just no fun.  That is the honest truth.  I'll say this - if you've never eaten before, or if you have no tongue - you should totally try this diet!  There is my resounding testimony.

Okay, okay, I shan't be so harsh.  No doubt my liver, gall bladder, and kidneys are thanking me.  The first and foremost point of the detox itself is to boost your body's natural "filtration system" and certainly it didn't kill me to consume massive quantities of fruits and vegetables for 48 hours.  But, am I fit to be vegan?  Heck, holy cheeseburger, no.

I'll say this - I got stellar sleep.  I sank into my bed both nights in utter exhaustion and had about 20 dreams each time that left me well rested and feeling great in the morning.  Now, that's saying something!  Surprisingly, as hungry as I went to bed the night prior, I awoke with energy and vigor the next morn.  So, take that for what it's worth.  Nevertheless, I have never dreamt of a more enormous breakfast burrito in my whole life, either.

So, what's with this challenge?  Get healthier?  Sure.  Set some goals?  I think so.  Do good for yourself?  Yes.  This silly detox taught me that it's really not a bad idea to try new things.  I would consider myself a rather "adventurous eater" and yet, in my thirties, there are still foods I have yet to eat - let alone attempt to cook myself.  That's exciting!  I think it is invigorating to capture things you feel might be intimidating (even glow-in-the-dark smoothies!) and challenge yourself to go after them.

Start small.  Try quinoa, for example (right after you google search "what the heck is quinoa").  Take a class you never thought you would.  Learn to ride a unicycle.  Ask a neighbor to dinner.  Try on scandalous lingerie (for your husband). Buy a guinea pig.  Rent a foreign documentary.  Paint on canvas with your hands.  Go out without makeup on.  Call your cousin.

Maybe all I did was flush out my liver and consume scary smoothies...but, really, I think I snuck a toe or two outside this comfortable box I call home.  Sometimes it is awesome to peak outside every now and then.  Try new things.  Challenge ourselves.  You just never know what it might lead to.

Harvest

It's harvest time.  Well, maybe not here in Southern California it's not.  But, back home in Kansas where I grew up, things are in full swing.  The combines are out cutting, the trucks are hauling the grain, the farmers turn into zombie maniacs who start spouting words like "bushel" and "weight" and "moisture" with a flurry of numbers to follow...which means nothing to anyone else unless they are also a farmer, or farmer's wife...or in my case, farmer's daughter.

My dad sent me this picture from harvest this year.

Harvest time was always one of my most favorite times growing up on the farm.  It was dusty and dirty and hot and sweaty (getting jealous, now, aren't you?) and full of heritage and traditions and ridiculously good cobblers.  Before I was old enough to help out in the field, I would help (well, I'm not sure how much help I actually was) my mother in the kitchen.  The "behind the scenes" gig to harvest time is keeping the men happy, healthy, and well-fed, which is exclusively run out of a busy and delicious kitchen.  My mother had this down to a perfect science.  She had the washcloths, soap, and water bucket for the "cleaning station", individually wrapped utensils and cups for each worker, and a multiple-course meal that would have made Martha Stewart cringe if she knew it were being served out the back hutch of a minivan instead of a properly decorated table, because it was just that good.  To top it off, my Grammy would send along either a giant fruit cobbler or a massive meringue pie that would last all of two seconds on each little plate that a piece was served on.  (Guaranteed Grammy is serving up those pies in heaven right now, they were so delicious I can't imagine eternity without them.)

As soon as I could drive and reach the pedals in a truck...I was out in the field.  The summers of my Sophomore and Junior year in high school, I drove truck for wheat harvest.  I'm not really sure why my parents thought a small, inexperienced teenage girl driving a massive vehicle carrying thousands of dollars worth of grain would be a good summer job...but, I was stubborn and wanted a job, so I'm certain in the end it was me that convinced them to hand over the keys.  Nevertheless, I took years of delight in the fact that I could put "truck driver" on my resume, just for the sake of seeing the look on future employer's faces.  Worth it.

And the memories made it all worthwhile as well.  Remember, these will be the stories I pass on to my girls!  The stories of sitting in a hot, un-air-conditioned truck, waiting on the combines to make their rounds and fill up my bed.  Stories that start out "...in the days before internet or iPhones or eReaders..."  Stories that will surely bore them to tears until they can look back and appreciate it for what it is:  family history.

Like, when my cousin David and I were little and used to take turns sitting in the cab with our dads, pretending/learning to drive the combine.  Steadying that giant wheel to cut the straightest path possible (think of the most humongous lawn mower you can imagine) and then turn-turn-turn-turn-turn-turn, quickly with all your might, as if you were in charge of a massive bus, literally collecting money in the back.  And then, once we had taken our turns, we would go play in the grain in the back of the truck.  It was like a giant sandbox, full of filthy grain that we would dig our toes into and then nibble on a kernel and then pretend there was an evil shark attack or monster worm or something trying to pull us under.  Oh, good times.

One summer, we had to cut over July 4th.  I remember being pretty bummed out that we couldn't go see the fireworks show in a "neighboring" town.  I knew most of my friends would be there, and I probably could have begged hard enough to get to go, but I knew it would do our family more good if we stayed put and finished the field for the night.  I remember how hot it was, how still and dry and dusty it felt to be out in the middle of a field, waiting for the next load to arrive.  Dusk was setting in and the sun was just below the horizon.  Lightning bugs were making neon polka-dots in the sky, and that's when I first saw it...just as the day turned to night, just at the brink of the horizon, tiny red and blue sparks broke through the darkness.  And I sat there, still...watching fireworks from twenty-seven miles away.  (Yes, Kansas really is that flat!)

Or, what about the time that I was driving the truck and all of a sudden it started to pour rain and hail on me.  No one was answering on my CB radio and I didn't know what to do.  I was on the highway with a truck FULL of grain - grain that needed to stay dry until it was safely in the elevator.  So, I pulled over on the side of the highway (this is the part where my mother starts thanking my angels) and jump out, and - having never done it before - I figured out how to yank down the giant metal arm that rolls out the cover over the top of the bed and keep the grain safe and dry - nearly knocking myself out in the process, and getting pummeled by hail all the while.  Whew!

Or...the time that I was pulling onto the scale at the Co-Op, and with such a big truck (here comes my disclaimer) there is only about a five inch clearance on either side to fit on the scale...not exactly easy for a new driver to do.  I had to realign the truck, and in doing so...KABLAMMO!  I took out an entire cement post with me.  Yup, I fully knocked over an entirely concrete post.  Whoopsie!  That was a fun call to make over the CB to my dad.  The guy at the Co-Op didn't offer me any more lollipops when I drove through the rest of that summer.

Or...the summer I decided to write 100 poems.  True story!  Remember, no iPhones!  I had to pass the time somehow, right?  So, I set a goal and wrote a total of 100 poems in course of that harvest (let's also clarify that harvest, while intense, only lasts about 2-3 weeks of the summer).  I'm sure I'll share some of these with you at some point (we'll see how in demand they become, wink) - oh yes, I still have them - but, I'll warn you now that most of them are filled with the angst and foreboding of an emotional seventeen year old.  In other words - gems!  Ha.

These days, when I hear that harvest has started at home, I feel the distance.  My heart feels left out of the loop.  This probably seems crazy to my family back home, because it's like saying I'm missing out on two of the busiest, longest-working-hours, most stressful events of the year.  I know, I know, I have the luxury of looking at it with rose-colored-nostalgia goggles now.  I'm not sitting here covered in sweat and dirt and mosquito bites (I don't miss that).  I'm not wondering if I'll get rained out of work tomorrow or if hail will destroy half a year's salary in one night.  I'm not praying for a better yield day after day (well, not for myself, anyway).  Harvest is insane in a word.  Messy, crazy, dirty...and full of hope and mystery and promise.  Each generation that takes part in wheat harvest, each farmer putting more and more food on the tables for millions of families...is more than just a truck full of grain.  I look back on those days and realize I was hauling memories in the back of that truck.  I was carrying heritage with each trip to the Co-Op.  I was delivering yet another year of promises to the next generation.

I grew up on a farm that has been in our family for more than a century.  I'm pretty sure at the time, when I was a teenager and just trying to earn a buck, sweaty and counting the mosquito bites on my legs, I had no idea I would be treasuring these memories and wanting to tell my girls tales of harvest time later in my life.  I have a dozen memories attached to every story I can remember.  Memories of tastes (dirt, mostly), sounds, smells, and the feelings like the scratchy sensation against my shins that only a field of wheat can create.  Hopefully, someday my girls can experience the beauty and business of wheat harvest on the farm.  Hopefully they will appreciate the fact that someone, somewhere, spent time praying over and cutting that crop so that they can have toast in the morning.  And hopefully, eventually, they will tell their daughters stories of their crazy grandmother who ran over the concrete post at the Co-Op that one time.

What memories are you planting for your kids right now?  What stories are you harvesting from your life and hoping to pass on?