I went away on a retreat with a bunch of lovely ladies a few weeks ago.  One morning we were talking about food (as women often do) and families (as women often do) and being too busy (as women *never* do ), and the topic of menu planning came up.  “Oh, y’all should check out my website!  I post weekly meal plans *every* *week*.”  Yeah, that was a couple of weeks ago, and I put up nothing:  classy.

But that doesn’t mean we weren’t eating.  We’ve been eating … and eating … and eating.  The week after the retreat, I went to my folks’ for a “retreat with two small boys, one of whom decided he would prefer to be attached to mama at all time as well as weep and wail and gnash those darling little molars while falling asleep or at 2am or both” – not necessarily so restful, but rejuvinating in that I didn’t have to cook or clean for seven blissful days.  And I could watch a number of NCIS marathons (a show that has been endeared to me since finding out that the writer/producers also created Magnum, P.I., one of the sacred Trinity of TV Childhood Favs).

While at the Mama & Pappy’s, I could also indulge in a guilty pleasure:  reading books about health/frugality/green/sustainable living.  Why is that guilty?  Because everytime I read these books (or watch Oprah), I freak out about all the bad things that could infiltrate my family’s health and purge the nasties.  Organic grapes and strawberries:  a must.  Homemade laundry detergent:  on top of my laundry machine.  Flax seeds and antioxidents:  regular part of my diet.  Buying disposable diapers:  a shame and guilt-laden experience.  Using paper towels and paper napkins:  rare, but also guilt-laden.  Unplugging any appliance that hasn’t been used:  compulsive and sometimes theraputic.  Bad plastics:  being weeded out.  Becoming a member of a CSA:  first pickup’s in a few weeks.  Positive, happy, healthy thinking:  work in progress, kinda shoved down the list …

I’ve been banned from watching Oprah pretty much because Hubby comes home and I say, “So Oprah says …” and then life changes, or I live in the anxiety that I don’t know what or how to change so that BPA doesn’t infiltrate our drinking water and thereby corroding our systems so that we grow third arms.  It’s totally irrational and illogical:  I’ve swam in the Willamette.  Repeatedly.  I am DOOMED.

My idealist kicks in, and I can’t get it Right, and then I my mind shuts down as I start projecting out, thinking about planting a garden and harvesting everything and spending time ordering ginormous bags of locally organically grown grain to store in Safe plastic containers and grind by hand into my own bread and use organic butter that I get after a day’s walk to and from McMinnville because using my car would cause too big of a carbon foot print, and then I find myself with only enough energy to say, “Could I get some ketchup with that, too?” as I lean out the car window to pick up my hard-worked-for dinner offerings from the House of Dave Thomas.

So I read these books at my parents’ house.  Because their tanks to deal with The Crazy are much fuller (and more experienced) than my poor lives-with-the-daily Hubby.  And they find some of it interesting (hmm: wonder where I get it?).  And they have years and years of knowing how to temper me:  “Why don’t you take baby steps? … You know, instead of planting a garden, investing money in knowing *where* your food comes from is a great first step …  There will always be other years ….  I’ve found an herb garden is pretty easy to grow”, aka. oooh, here’s a direction to move in, oh all-or-nothing one.  They know not to make “You’re wrong” statements or “That won’t work” because look at the head-strong one go charging in that direction.  Plus, they’re just as all-or-nothing as me, oh move-to-the-farmland-Idaho-suburbs-to-by-acreage-and-grow-a-huge-garden-and-raise-animals-because-our-experience-of-living-in-the-urban-South-and-Germany-and-Tacoma-prepared-us-for-situations-such-as-these parents.  I’m just sayin’ …

This last time I read The China Study.  I let Hubby know I was taking it.  “This is the book that my friends read, and they stopped eating meat.  I’m just warning you.”  I read it; I enjoyed it; I believe the author – he’s not a whack job.  I haven’t gone bonkers yet.  I must admit, The Crazy One looks at animal products and thinks, “These promote cancer:  DOOM!”  But The Tempered One says, “Baby steps to four o’clock.  Baby steps to four o’clock”.  So we had Vegan Week in which I cooked vegan dinners.  I thought they were yummy, particularly since two meals required peanut sauce (mmmm).  And to celebrate the end of vegan week?  Grilled cream-cheese-stuffed turkey burgers.  Success.

Honestly I am feeling convicted to be more aware of animal products in my family’s diet, but not crazy.  I need to use things up in my freezer.  And I need to honor my family’s requests for favorites.  Mantra – these are choices to make out of love, not fear, to move us into life, not prison.

This week I used meals from The Sneaky Chef:  How to Cheat on Your Man (in the Kitchen):  a baby step in working veggies and other good stuff into the boys’ food.  I didn’t “hide” things:  I shared what was part of the meal.  And I bonded with my handheld blender:  we needed some quality time together.  Soon it will be quality smoothie weather …. sooooon ….

Monday:  Cheese eggs, cinnamon toast, banana (had to get out the door for MOPS); grilled cheese & turkey, grapes, crackers; Burgerville (Hubby’s half birthday:  woo hoo!  Burgerville’s also very locally/sustainably minded as well, and just plain tasty:  bonus).

Tuesday:  Power Breakfast Cookies (which led to some little peoples’ power poops – oy), sausage, strawberries; Chicken Waldorf wrap, veggies, apples; Italian Herb Chicken, Mighty Parmesan Mashed Potatoes, applesauce, bread, salad (comment:  “Wow!  You really went all out!”  Tried not to extrapolate into “and finally cooked a real meal/meal like my family cooked” – see, holding in The Crazy).

Wednesday:  Blockbuster Blueberry Muffins, cheese; Burly Burritos, veggies, crackers, raisins; Real Man Meatballs w/spaghetti, apples w/pb, salad, bread

Thursday:  Leftovers; Leftovers; Leftovers (seriously needed.  LOOOONG days cooking beforehand)

Friday:  Chocolate-Charged French Toast, cheese, banana; Leftovers (had a meeting that ran long); probably fend for yourself (because I had planned for Turkey Burgers, but tomorrow’s supposed to be quality grilling weather)

Saturday:  French Toast Bites, banana; English Muffin Pizzas, veggies with laughing cow cheese, peaches; Now You’re Talking Turkey Burgers, Real Freedom Fries, applesauce

Sunday:  Leftovers; Leftovers; Top Banana waffles, turkey bacon

In typical tradition, what one child hates, the other loves, and visa versa.

And what one child leaves, the other wears.  Marinara:  the latest facial treatment.

What, no kiss, Pappy?

At least he gets lovin’ in the belly.

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