For a long time, I proudly and loudly stated that for me, cooking is all about flavor. Ever since I learned, as a young adult out on my own, that I could create tasty food for myself I have been in pursuit of pleasure only. Even when P got a job at the local food co-op, I greeted his "hippie food" with an upturned nose and this quote.
But, as was cheesily stated on an episode of Glee, eating for two changes your relationship to food. I was suddenly aware of the connection between what I took in from my environment and what he could then take in from his environment - which would be me. I was responsible for creating his world, and his nutrition opportunities. That's not to say I didn't occasionally indulge in mint chocolate chip ice cream (chocolate, with its small amount of caffeine, is a no-no) and the (very rare P, I swear!) odd Cheesy Potato Burrito from Taco Bell. But I became interested in how various nutrients nurtured different systems as well as in how what I was eating could keep up my sagging energy or help me fight off illness.
Now, as a breastfeeding mom, I still have reason to eat well. And I hope the habits I'm forming now will stick with me, giving me better energy to parent and encouraging Bear by example.
There's only one problem. Good, preservative-free food is expensive. In addition to the flavor factor I felt was lacking from hippie tofu/quinoa patties, as a young adult I resented the fact that P and his coworkers couldn't afford to shop in the store where they worked. It seemed to me that organic food was largely for the well-heeled and pretentious. Now that I am coming to see its benefits, I am realizing that I can't afford to go "all the way."
There are a lot of moms out there who have the good fortune to be able to shop without worrying too much about the cost of individual items. And that's great. For the rest of us, I want to explore the middle ground: good, nutritious food that picks its battles, balancing price and flavor with health benefits. It can be murky territory sometimes, but I enjoy the challenge of reusing and re-purposing groceries to make the most of what we have. So in the next few posts I'll be featuring the tips we've found so far for thin wallets and full bellies.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
To the Touch
Last weekend, Bear and I packed up for our first big trip together. We'd gone to Grandma's before (a two hour drive), but this was going to be a gala weekend in the big city. First stop was Grandma's, to spend the night and leave the next morning.
Grandma had already warned us that Granny had a cold, and we might not be able to see her. When we arrived, she said "I'm getting a cold too - I hope that doesn't mean I can't touch the baby!" Of course it didn't - I understand just how critical it is to get close to him. Sometimes, when I'm at work and glance at the sweet picture of him on my desk, I just start to ache. And if she hadn't, I wouldn't have had the chance to eat a nice dinner at a local restaurant (where is it written that babies MUST demand your lap the minute your food arrives? I actually wrote a song about it at the dinner table the other night, called "Mom's Plate.") Besides, breastfeeding babies have magical immunity, right?
Later that night, we got to see an old friend and her husband who live in the same city as Grandma. I was saying hello as I held Bear, and slowly realized that her arms were inching up infinitesimally...did she want to hold him? Of course! This is what it's all about. On some primal level, this new being isn't really REAL to us until we've gotten to touch. It's how infants explore, and it's what we can't resist when we're around them.
The next morning, Grandma realized she was way too sick to go on our trip, so Bear and I turned around and headed home. Unfortunately, the AC is out in our car and it was a sweltering day. But I love to travel, and never want to feel that I've missed the opportunity to see something new. So I stopped at Grinnell College (still one of the prettiest campuses in my book) to see the Faulconer Gallery's exhibit of Liz Steketee's photography. With Bear in his sling and hated summer hat, we prowled the campus, had a snack, and then went in to check out the photos.
Her polaroid photographs were right up my alley. They capture mundane moments with extraordinary intensity, showing the shinging light behind each. Other displays worked on old family photographs, revising the past (complete with a living room installation from which to view them). Huge panoramas in which she subtly blends images from different times to create a composed whole. Perhaps most interesting to me right now, some had a biographical feel, revealing slices of her experience with birth and motherhood. One photo titled "Postpartum Windowsill" had a quiet intensity, as an overwhelming array of orange prescription bottles were backlit by a rising sun. I was strangely thrilled - and provoked - by the images, and moved to do more photography myself. Many of them evoked feelings of nurture and touch, like a photograph of her son nursing from her own perspective.
Bear, however, was a bit non-plussed. He responded with a grin to two images that had large faces in the foreground, but quickly tired of being walked around a silent room and filled it with his own vocals. We beat a hasty retreat, disappointed to note that there were no changing stations in the building (c'mon, parents like the arts!).
I had seen an email about this exhibit and thought it looked interesting, but had my plans not been disrupted I never would have ended up there. Nor would I have had a lovely suprise weekend at home with no plans, in which I lazed about with the boys and caught up on some much needed cleaning. On top of that, I was thankful that we'd escaped the illness going around.
Oh boy, it's a sneaky beast. I'd thought baby felt a bit hot during the previous night, but blamed it on the room temperature and his love of snuggling up between two big humans. Yesterday afternoon though, we both were just cranky and tired. After trying to play and then rock in the rocker for a while, I realized we were both fighting the inevitable. We went to bed and slept most of the afternoon. Then again last night - and thank goodness for husbands, who can watch a baby while you get a couple extra hours, because all night long Bear and I were both running a fever and tossing and turning, leaning in towards each other for comfort only to lean away for some cool air. Sometimes, all he needs is to be able to reach out for me - even with his eyes closed - and I'll see this sweet smile cross his face. I feel honored that just feeilng me gives him such a sense of security. I don't know how to tell him that he does the same for me.
Grandma had already warned us that Granny had a cold, and we might not be able to see her. When we arrived, she said "I'm getting a cold too - I hope that doesn't mean I can't touch the baby!" Of course it didn't - I understand just how critical it is to get close to him. Sometimes, when I'm at work and glance at the sweet picture of him on my desk, I just start to ache. And if she hadn't, I wouldn't have had the chance to eat a nice dinner at a local restaurant (where is it written that babies MUST demand your lap the minute your food arrives? I actually wrote a song about it at the dinner table the other night, called "Mom's Plate.") Besides, breastfeeding babies have magical immunity, right?
Later that night, we got to see an old friend and her husband who live in the same city as Grandma. I was saying hello as I held Bear, and slowly realized that her arms were inching up infinitesimally...did she want to hold him? Of course! This is what it's all about. On some primal level, this new being isn't really REAL to us until we've gotten to touch. It's how infants explore, and it's what we can't resist when we're around them.
The next morning, Grandma realized she was way too sick to go on our trip, so Bear and I turned around and headed home. Unfortunately, the AC is out in our car and it was a sweltering day. But I love to travel, and never want to feel that I've missed the opportunity to see something new. So I stopped at Grinnell College (still one of the prettiest campuses in my book) to see the Faulconer Gallery's exhibit of Liz Steketee's photography. With Bear in his sling and hated summer hat, we prowled the campus, had a snack, and then went in to check out the photos.
Her polaroid photographs were right up my alley. They capture mundane moments with extraordinary intensity, showing the shinging light behind each. Other displays worked on old family photographs, revising the past (complete with a living room installation from which to view them). Huge panoramas in which she subtly blends images from different times to create a composed whole. Perhaps most interesting to me right now, some had a biographical feel, revealing slices of her experience with birth and motherhood. One photo titled "Postpartum Windowsill" had a quiet intensity, as an overwhelming array of orange prescription bottles were backlit by a rising sun. I was strangely thrilled - and provoked - by the images, and moved to do more photography myself. Many of them evoked feelings of nurture and touch, like a photograph of her son nursing from her own perspective.
Bear, however, was a bit non-plussed. He responded with a grin to two images that had large faces in the foreground, but quickly tired of being walked around a silent room and filled it with his own vocals. We beat a hasty retreat, disappointed to note that there were no changing stations in the building (c'mon, parents like the arts!).
I had seen an email about this exhibit and thought it looked interesting, but had my plans not been disrupted I never would have ended up there. Nor would I have had a lovely suprise weekend at home with no plans, in which I lazed about with the boys and caught up on some much needed cleaning. On top of that, I was thankful that we'd escaped the illness going around.
Oh boy, it's a sneaky beast. I'd thought baby felt a bit hot during the previous night, but blamed it on the room temperature and his love of snuggling up between two big humans. Yesterday afternoon though, we both were just cranky and tired. After trying to play and then rock in the rocker for a while, I realized we were both fighting the inevitable. We went to bed and slept most of the afternoon. Then again last night - and thank goodness for husbands, who can watch a baby while you get a couple extra hours, because all night long Bear and I were both running a fever and tossing and turning, leaning in towards each other for comfort only to lean away for some cool air. Sometimes, all he needs is to be able to reach out for me - even with his eyes closed - and I'll see this sweet smile cross his face. I feel honored that just feeilng me gives him such a sense of security. I don't know how to tell him that he does the same for me.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Running On
Last week I attended a transformative yoga class in College Green Park. Jeanelle Boyer, a local yogi, was running across the state and teaching yoga along the way in her LOVE Run 2011. I was fascinated by her inspiration - her great-grandfather walked around the world in 1897.
I've been wanting to do more yoga, since I feel so great each time, but it's hard for me to justify taking that time for myself. When Bear is sleeping, I have a thousand other things to do for us, or for our house, and spending that time on something for me seems selfish. At the same time, I remember the phrase "babies need happy moms" and think about the benefit yoga does for my injured shoulder, which has been exacerbated through breastfeeding and carrying a car seat. Anyway, Jeanelle's class was at night and was the perfect opportunity for me to leave the boys at home and enjoy a beautiful summer evening in Iowa City.
I was surprised to see the crowd that gathered, probably eighty people were there to support Jeanelle and to learn from the three other teachers who volunteered their time. There is a nice slideshow in the Daily Iowan article (I'm wearing blue pants and a black shirt). During Jeanelle's portion, she asked us during meditation to think about something we were grateful for. It wasn't hard for me! Just then, another instructor's young baby began singing. After a great workout, I felt so relaxed and peaceful and thankful for my life and for a really mostly healthy body.
Peter, meanwhile, continued to exercise his gift for attracting interesting strangers when he spotted Grandpa Woodstock making his way to the Rainbow Gathering. I hope they're back on the road again.
Finally, I got turned on to Stay on Route 6, a great road trip blog about my favorite highway. Since I'll be sticking close to home this summer, I'm enjoying living vicariously through Malerie's adventure.
I've been wanting to do more yoga, since I feel so great each time, but it's hard for me to justify taking that time for myself. When Bear is sleeping, I have a thousand other things to do for us, or for our house, and spending that time on something for me seems selfish. At the same time, I remember the phrase "babies need happy moms" and think about the benefit yoga does for my injured shoulder, which has been exacerbated through breastfeeding and carrying a car seat. Anyway, Jeanelle's class was at night and was the perfect opportunity for me to leave the boys at home and enjoy a beautiful summer evening in Iowa City.
I was surprised to see the crowd that gathered, probably eighty people were there to support Jeanelle and to learn from the three other teachers who volunteered their time. There is a nice slideshow in the Daily Iowan article (I'm wearing blue pants and a black shirt). During Jeanelle's portion, she asked us during meditation to think about something we were grateful for. It wasn't hard for me! Just then, another instructor's young baby began singing. After a great workout, I felt so relaxed and peaceful and thankful for my life and for a really mostly healthy body.
Peter, meanwhile, continued to exercise his gift for attracting interesting strangers when he spotted Grandpa Woodstock making his way to the Rainbow Gathering. I hope they're back on the road again.
Finally, I got turned on to Stay on Route 6, a great road trip blog about my favorite highway. Since I'll be sticking close to home this summer, I'm enjoying living vicariously through Malerie's adventure.
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