I’ve been reading a lot of posts on Facebook about where people were on 9/11 and the lesson they have learned from that event and how it shaped our collective consciousness. Of all the posts that I read today, the radio playing the emergency 911 calls from New York (like it was live, again) and the tears that ensued, there were two things that stuck out to me. The first was that Obama and Romney declared a truce for the day on political jabs. They pulled ads and didn’t hold rallies. This was maybe the first compassionate action from either of them, maybe ever? I wonder who was copying who?

The second was more profound. It was a quote from Sandy Dahl, the wife of Flight 93 pilot Jason Dahl, and she said this:

“If we learn nothing else from this tragedy, we learn that life is short and there is no time for hate.”

I wonder how she was feeling when she made this statement. Was she saying it like a mantra, hoping that it would someday become true to her? Or did she really find a way to banish hatred from what must have been her broken heart? Either way, I applaud her strength of character and attempt to find a splinter of truth from a horrific loss.

We celebrated our lives, family and freedoms today by ordering Thai/Chinese takeout and heading over to the park for some playtime. Our great friend Danny showed up and made Porter’s night. Life is short and I’m so grateful to be able to celebrate every single day.

Have you heard about the Real Food movement? I’ve mentioned it briefly in a few other posts, but I finally found a reason to do a whole post on it. Emily at Holistic Squid does an excellent job explaining Real Food. You can also check out the work of Westin A Price as the basis for this movement. Dr.Price was a dentist who travelled the world and studied the health of traditional cultures and those cultures who were then introduced to modern foods. The results were astounding. People who eat local, fermented, traditional foods (this included omnivores and vegetarians) were healthy and virtually disease free. That is until they came upon modern food. Then it was straight to food purgatory for them (and us!) For my part I will say that when I look back at what I imagined a healthy way of eating, it was always food in its most natural state. Little did I know that I wasn’t the only one who had this vision. (This is just another confirming fact that I am actually normal in all my weirdness. Phew!)

My grandmother, who was raised on a farm in Nebraska during the depression, comes to mind. Forced to eat fresh veggies from the garden and farm fresh meats and dairy, no doubt. My grandma was a hilarious and lovely person, but she was known as the “front room girl” because she preferred to entertain in the front room than be part of the actual farm work. According to my father, once she got off the farm she was all over the ease that canned and pre-made foods had to offer.  Thankfully my dad took it upon himself to learn to cook from scratch, and I was raised eating home cooked meals, fresh baked bread and real butter everyday of my life. Thanks Dad!

Well, it seems we’ve come full circle in the food revolution. We’ve gone so far from eating food in it’s normal, fresh state, that there is an actual movement that involves eating like our grandparents. This food trend falls in line with the Organic Farming and Farmer’s Market movements that are happening all around the country. Slowly but surly we are learning that maybe the reason our nation is so sick, and getting sicker, is because of the vast amounts of absolute CRAP we eat.

Now, I’m no saint. I’m just as addicted to carbs, high fructose syrup, fast food and all the baked goods I can get my hands on as the next person. But I’ll be damned if I don’t change my bad habits for my health and the health of my family. This has led to shopping and cooking as locally as possible. Trying not to eat out as much, thus forcing myself to cook. It’s not so bad though. When I have the time and energy, I actually like cooking and eating my creations. So far I’ve dabbled in:

• pickling 
• made gallons of chicken broth (I can never go back to the boxed stuff, EVER) 
• eaten the most delicious pastured chicken eggs 
• made homemade jello using juice and this gelatin 
• cooking with saturated fats like coconut oil and butter (not canola or olive oil) 
• committing to growing/eating local and organic produce
• brewing kombucha 

My hopes are that I will eventually get into such a routine of cooking with real food that it will become second nature and that Porter, Luke and I will have diverse happy palates and guts.

A big part of our Real Food deal is meat. There’s a lot of it. It’s incredibly important that the meat my family eats be raised using non-GMO feed, hopefully eating grass and bugs and rooting around in the soil the way nature intended. They hopefully had happy lives and were treated with the utmost respect before and after their death. To ensure this I talk with the farmer at the market, and thank goodness for the internet and all of the great websites that everyone has.

Current methods of factory farming, feed lots and slaughter houses ARE NOT considered Real Food. When people talk about the raising of animals for food that’s bad for the environment, this type of farming is what they’re talking about. When animals are humanely raised and slaughtered it can rehabilitate the environment and be a source of good, believe it. For more info, check out Joel Salatin at Polyface Farms and his method of animal husbandry. If you are what you eat, and I eat meat, I want to be happy and healthy. Just like the animals that were raised to feed me.

I came across this series of videos today, they are truly beautiful and informative. They are made by a family who raises and butchers their own pork. It’s so well done that I actually shed a tear over the passion that this guy has for animal husbandry and feeding his family and friends. It gives an excellent history of how butchery came about and then he actually shows you how to butcher the whole pig and use each of it’s parts. It sounds gruesome, but I swear it’s not. It’s less messy than an episode of Dexter. There’s very little blood, a lot of skill and an overwhelming amount of pride and love for the animal. There are 3 parts, each around 20 minutes. If you have respect for the food you eat, are curious about how it should be prepared correctly or are just into anatomy then please watch these videos.

I don’t expect to live in a Real Food bubble, although I’ve read enough to know there are people who do. What I do expect is to try and make educated choices. Just like in childbirth, parenting and everything else I do. Food is good, it should make us feel good about eating too.

[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/32367993 w=500&h=281]
On The Anatomy Of Thrift: Side Butchery from farmrun on Vimeo.
[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/39451071 w=500&h=281]
On The Anatomy Of Thrift: Harvest Day from farmrun on Vimeo.
[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/47809670 w=500&h=281]
On The Anatomy Of Thrift: Fat & Salt from farmrun on Vimeo.

Every night we have a bedtime ritual that involves taking a bath, putting on PJ’s, occasionally Luke and I will grab Porter’s hands and feet and stretch him out (which must feel really nice), Porter nurses, Luke reads us a book, we count the various items in a picture on his wall, sing Wheels On The Bus, put Busy Bee to bed, Luke turns out the light, we have kisses all around and then I rock Porter for a couple of minutes until he says, “nigh nigh”. I put him in his bed and, usually, within mere moments he’s asleep for the night. It works, it’s awesome. It works so well that Aunt Anna and Uncle Micah can do it and Porter sleeps just fine.

Back to the title of this post. This whole routine has had a wrench thrown into it for the last two nights because of the very unassuming children’s book Time For Bed. I grabbed it at the library last week after Luke proclaimed that all stories read at bedtime should end with the characters going to sleep. It works beautifully with the other books we read, like this one:

Big Red Barn, much like Time For Bed, has an assortment of animals as babies and their fully grown parents together, like this:

“It’s time for bed little cat, little cat, So snuggle in tight, that’s right, like that.” Time For Bed

In the Big Red Barn, after a day of playing the animals head back to the big red barn and all fall asleep together, like one big happy family. Piglets cuddle with foals, kittens and puppies put aside their differences to cuddle, all while the bats fly around eating all the bugs that so many animals must attract. It’s a lovely and serene bedtime and I’m sure Porter would be happy to curl up on some soft hay next to a furry critter.

Surly the Time For Bed book would evoke the same sleepy visions that Porter knows and loves from many of his other bedtime books. No…wrong…not the case. In fact, it’s so far off the mark that he gets to the last page, sees these images and begins to cry. First a little tear, then he whispers the words “mama, baby nigh nigh” and then he sobs. Heaving, tear jerking sobs. It’s seriously tragic.

“The stars on high are shining bright- Sweet dreams, my darling, sleep well…”

“good night!”

Maybe it’s the look on the baby’s face, or the fact that his mother leaves him alone to fall asleep? Really, all of the other babies get to fall asleep with their mamas. But whenever Porter see the mother tucking in the child he tears up, says “mama” in the saddest voice I’ve ever heard and then turns the page to see the comatose baby. He looks at me and cries, cries, cries. I then reach to give him a hug but he insists on reading the book backwards and saying all the animal sounds, first through tears and finally back to normal. Presumably he does this to take his mind of the terror that is portrayed on the last two pages of this book.

I thought the first night was a fluke so I tried reading it again, but it backfired so hard that he wouldn’t let me leave the room until I had rocked him in the rocking chair for 15 minutes and was practically sleeping. He did fall asleep, but this book is going back to the library ASAP. In fact I’m going to return it myself, instead of letting him put it in the book drop like all the other books. Yikes!

I’m not sure what I’ve learned from this little episode, but it’s kind of sweet to see my child having such a strong reaction to an image in a book. He is clearly capable of feeling deeply, beyond the typical laughter and frustrated yells that occur throughout the day. And I am certainly a person that understands the need to cry in order to express an array of emotions. On the other hand, it’s so sad to see him feel upset and brought to tears, even though I know it’s important to experience these emotions. This parenting thing just got pretty deep. Compared to the depth of my son’s human emotion, all the worrying, preparing and observing that I’ve done up to this point seems almost superficial. At least it’s another 10 years before puberty starts. Sheesh.

Nigh nigh. ***

Playing this morning at the Farmer’s Market.

With Dada earlier today. Those were happier times.

On our way home from Sarah’s, ready for nigh nigh. Then I read that freakin’ book. What was I thinking?!

Thanks to my friend Chelsea, and the book club she started, I’ve been reading more than usual. And I love it! My mother and husband and mother in law are avid readers, but I usually prefer blogs and magazines. Lately, however, I’ve been on a role with the books thanks to my Kindle. While reading one of my favorite blogs, I saw this interview with Quinn Cummings. This lead me to read her latest book The Year of Learning Dangerously, Adventures In Homeschooling:

I felt like a mad scientist in my kitchen. I think it freaked Luke out a little when he saw the concoction in the fridge.

My Facebook friend Eleanor is an avid cook, baker and pickler. Seeing her pictures is inspiring, but I was especially captivated by her pickled eggs and beets. She was kind enough to send me the recipe, and armed with fresh eggs and beets from the farmer’s market I went to the task of pickling.

And the verdict? Pure and pretty awesomeness! I will never need to salt a hard boiled egg again. Not when I can plop it in a vat of briny goodness. This clip isn’t as good as “Put A Bird On It!” but I love Portlandia and will share it any chance I get.

At the park today, Porter and I were the only native English speakers. The rest spoke German.

Porter wasn’t phased a bit. He’s a friendly fellow.