Working Healthy Eating into the Conversation

Time for a healthy eating tip! (**Reminder... I sort of have this business, that sort of deals with this kind of thing, I tend to digress a lot, and my kids distract me, so I'll try harder to consider those of you who visit my blog to learn about something other than Red's potty triumphs, Blondie's pink eye, or Biscuit's Halloween costume drama.) So, let's get to it.


Ever hear the rumor that kids who sit down to dinner with the family, versus with the T.V., are more likely to develop healthy eating habits? Look here and here to see this is no rumor, but true as can be. I'm a big believer in this I also believe there is even more you can do as a parent to help your kids eat healthy, which brings me to my big point...


A great way to help your kids eat healthy is to talk about healthy eating away from the dinner table.


Here's a true story.


Little Red crawled into bed with us one morning, and in the midst of kisses and snuggles, we examined our hands.


Red: Your hands are big, Mommy. My hands are little.

Mommy: You're right. And one day your hands will be big like mine. Probably even bigger.

Red: **giggle**

Mommy: That's because you're growing up fast.

Red: Like Biscuit?

Mommy: Just like Biscuit. Do you know why you're getting so big?

Red: (look of interest)

Mommy: Because you eat things like broccoli and noodles and drink lots of milk.

Red: And suckers don't make me big?

Mommy: Not big and strong.

Red: Bananas make me strong.

Mommy: Bananas, peppers, rice, oatmeal...


And this continued. Until he got tired of naming off all the foods he could think of.


Now, to me, this conversation came very natural. Because I eat, sleep and breathe the subject every day. For you other hard-working parents, who might have other things on their mind besides SuperNoots, it's a conscious effort to have conversations like this, but imagine the benefits.


When kids are little, the last thing they need are parents lecturing them on why Cheerios will reduce their cholesterol, or why there are starving children in Ethiopia who would give anything for a bite of broccoli. However, working in relevant, encouraging conversations like these into your child's life make a tremendous impact on their eating habits.



Okay, now I have to throw this in, especially for my California friend, Francesca, who is constantly amused by my East Tennessee antics...


Once upon a time, one of our children touched an outlet. No harm done, but an adult, who shall remain nameless, said, "Don't mess with plugs." I realize this statement would only be made south of the Mason-Dixon line, so to clarify its meaning, these four words mean touching an outlet is dangerous so don't do it. That being said, after Red and I rattled off healthy foods in the aforementioned conversation, he said,


Red: And when I get big I can mess with plugs?

Mommy: **laughing** Yes, when you get big you can mess with plugs.

Red: **pause** And blinds?

Mommy: **more laughing**

Red: And lamps?


And so it went, until he named off all the no-no's in his little life. My favorite?


Red: And EggNog's tail?

When it Snows in Tennessee...

I believe in global warming.

I can't give you hard statistics, nor can I recall the theoretic details of melting ice caps and unusual weather phenomena, but I can tell you what I think is proof of global warming...

When I was a kid, East Tennessee saw lots of snow, and as of the last five years, nothin' but empty promises from the weather man and a little white dust.

Until today.

Here's my little Red enjoying his first snow.

Now, I have to stop here for a second and give you a little insight into how much it snowed when I was a kid, and how little it snows now. This is important, because it will explain a very confusing picture at the end of this post of a child careening down a hill in a cardboard box.

Back then:

1. Snow days were factored into the school calendar for a reason, and we used every one of them.

2. Everyone owned gear. Water-proof gloves. Hat with a chin strap. Snow boots. And most importantly, a sled (or an inverted garbage can lid with the handle broken off, God bless the innovative Southerner)

3. Speaking of sleds, we all have at least three scars from crashing those things into curbs or a parked car at the bottom of a hill.

4. Every family had a snow routine. Play outside until you couldn't feel your fingers and toes. Sit by the fireplace while Mom rubbed feeling back into your limbs and gave you hot chocolate with marshmallows. Listen to Mom try to convince you to stay inside. Go back outside.

Now:

1. No.

2. No. Gloves, maybe.

3. Nope.

4. Afraid not.

That's right. Sad, sad, sad. The snow boots section at Target is like half a shelf. I'm guessing there are probably a few sleds for sale in Knoxville somewhere, but I've never seen them.

So today when the snow hit, we improvised. Try to follow me here, I'll start from top to bottom.

Hats, check. No longjohns, so each child was layered with two pajama tops. Red has a big head, so he needed a scarf since the neck holes of his pajama tops are stretched out. To keep legs warm, we pulled Biscuit's soccer socks all the way up to Red and Blondie's thighs. Then pajama bottoms. Then the ever-so-classy plastic shopping bags for the feet, then warm-up pants over that to hide the embarrassing plastic bags. A pair of socks over the bags, then insufficient shoes, but that's what the bags are for... water-proofing (we already know we're genius, you don't have to say it). Coats, check. Mittens, check. Except for Biscuit, who had to wear his mother's gloves, which explains why he looked like Edward Scissorhands.

And now for the pictures. As you will see, we do not own a sled, but our children will not be denied.

TDH caught this picture of me on our snow day. Joy.

Okay, so i was tagged...

1. When I count my blessings, I always start with my faith.
2. I have one brunette, one blonde, and one red-headed child.
3. I had myself a big fat Greek wedding.
4. One of the first things I loved, and still love, about my hubby is the way he walks into a room.
5. When I was a little girl, I aspired to be a Solid Gold Dancer.
6. I hate beans.
7. I have the heart of a race car driver, trapped in a minivan.
8. I hate to fly, thanks to one white-knuckle experience with turbulance.
9. My grandparents are the coolest people I know.
10. I love to bake, but I'm not very good at it.
11. One of the first things I taught my children was how to open a public restroom door with their elbows.
12. I'm psychic, sort of.
13. (I'm superstitious, so I'm going to skip this one)
14. I'd rather hike in the mountains than lie on the beach.
15. I secretly love Britney Spears's song 'Womanizer'
16. I had an imaginary sister named Stephanie up until the second grade.
17. I'm not as sweet as I used to be.
18. Every day I balance the fine line of letting my kids be themselves while not letting them get away with everything.
19. When my children were 4, 18 months and 18 months, I started a business. Because I'm crazy!
20. I sold knives for a very brief time in college.
21. I believe the American food industry is out to kill us all.
22. I gave up caffeine for lent 10 years ago and haven't had it since.
23. I love my church.
24. I treasure my girlfriends.
25. I hope y'all have a good day!

The Comeback

Yes, sirreee, I'm alive!! Thanks for all your well wishes, they were bright spots on this dark and lonely highway called "wisdom teeth removal." I went to the doctor yet again this morning, to fix my third dry socket, but I'm not going to talk about it any more, because I'm as sick of hearing about it as anybody else.

In my lucid moments, I've been keeping busy by organizing my office, reading this book, working on SuperNoots stuff, fighting the CPSIA, keeping KFC afloat by purchasing 7,498 orders of mashed potatoes, oh, and trying to resurrect some semblance of order in my household.

Yes, the members of this family have been spoiled by Mama's inability to command a room like she used to. I'm talking about backtalk, excessive whining, and complete memory loss of every rule and responsibility. And that's just TDH.

But since coming off pain meds, uncrossing my eyes and splashing cold water on my face a few times throughout the day, Mama is making her comeback.

My children once again look at their mother with a healthy amount of fear, and I'm okay with that.

Still Here

hullo.

still alive.

but minus four severely impacted wisdom teeth.

i have a little mouth.

ouch.

Ibuprofen is Calling

Okay, so apparently when you have tooth pain, you should go to the dentist.

Not wait 3 months until one morning you can't chew.

I can see you out there, shaking your little heads and wagging your fingers at me. So, let me just say, I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW.

My four impacted wisdom teeth have been trying to tell me for quite some time now that they are tired of being in my mouth. They want out, and really who can blame them? So surgery it is.

Now those of you who know me will be shocked by what I am about to share with you. If you are just joining us, a short recap... I eat healthy.

My diet yesterday? Applesauce, Panera chicken noodle soup, 1/2 a kashi bar (swallowed whole), and for dinner, Kentucky Fried Chicken mashed potatoes. By the time TDH brought them home for me, I was in tears from being so hungry, and I don't think I've ever appreciated anything more in my life.

I'll keep you updated.

I'm off to pack up lots of SuperNoots. But first, Ibuprofen.

The Lassie Experience

From time to time, for absolutely no reason in particular, I decide I no longer want to be a member of my generation, and I bake biscuits from scratch, consider moving my whole family to Montana, and buy things like this...

I have no idea why, but the why is not the point of this post but possibly the basis for an in-depth psychological study, but I digress...

The following is our Lassie experience, and it takes place in our minivan. You'll be afraid for me and the children at first, but don't worry, it has a happy ending.

One morning on the way to school, we began watching an episode of Lassie in which she accidentally gets locked in the back of a delivery truck, and as a result ends up hopelessly lost, 600 miles away from home.

Now, it takes us 25 minutes to get to school, so by the time we had gotten there, this episode had ended as a "to be continued," with Lassie wet, hungry and sad, and Timmy heartbroken. Biscuit was extremely concerned, but I explained to him that Lassie would find her way home soon.

When I picked up the kids, Biscuit was anxious to start the show. The poor little guy had been on the edge of his seat all day over Lassie finding her way home. But by the time we made it to karate, the poor dog was still lost. Not only was she still lost, but she had been stalked by a bear, attacked by a horrible dog, and barely made it across a river. On the homefront, Timmy was completely beside himself, and the parents were telling each other it was hopeless.

When karate was over, the kids ran, not skipped as joyful, carefree children should do, but RAN to the DVD player. Shortly after we got in the car, the second episode of the day ended, and alas, Lassie was. still. lost. Not only was she lost, but Timmy's parents asked a friend to bring over a new puppy to ease the pain.

At this point, I'm starting to panic. I'm looking in the rear view mirror at my impressionable, sensitive five-year-old, and thinking he'll remember for the rest of his life that his mother was excited to show him the story of Lassie.

So, now I do the honorable thing, and start blaming the dog. Well, Biscuit, I can't believe Lassie's not home yet! She's supposed to be home by now, Timmy's really missing her, and she should be home. She needs to be home. Come on, Lassie, go home!

Ten minutes from our house, episode three begins. Timmy is desolate, refuses to love the new puppy, and returns it. Lassie is being helped by a kind man now, but the director doesn't hint to any happy endings. We are now in our neighborhood, so I pull over on a sidestreet to watch what I hope will be some form of closure.

A hopeless, tearful Timmy gathers Lassie's toys and heads out to the backyard to bury them. Biscuit is crying, I am crying, then...

A bark.

Let me just tell you, when Timmy looked up and saw Lassie coming over that hill, I cannot explain to you the immense joy that flowed throughout that minivan. Lassie and Timmy ran as fast as they could into each other's arms...

And I breathed an immeasureable sigh of relief. Then I silently cursed the 1950's for their cruelty and lack of cell phones.