Facing the Task, For the Win

I imagine everyone else has it more together than me. That they can accomplish things easier with less uncertainty. That they don't struggle with fear of failure or lack of confidence. I know, this has come up frequently. 

As I grow in the roll of mother I've realized that, of course, those busy mothers are not having an easy time all the time. The women I looked up to as Super Heroes or Martha Stewarts were actually average human beings just like me. Maybe they had a head start in the area of grappling with life, thanks to roll models or necessity, but they all have their struggles too. They do things with apprehension. They wonder about their choices. They have exhausted, brain-dead moments. They get mad. They have to let things go. They have to wing it and learn while doing. They make mistakes. And they have times they don't think they can. 

I've come to realize that many things that appear formidable, that give me a feeling of being incapacitated, are actually not all that hard. They just require my time. With such a selfish, lazy, insecure past (and don't tell me that's not true, because it is), that can be difficult to follow through. I struggle finishing a single chore without getting distracted, let alone accomplish a whole day-consuming task. But, necessity, along with wanting more, breeds growth. 

It starts with begrudgingly cleaning poop out of the tub at the end of an exhausting, long day. Scrubbing the food-fight look of the dining room when I wish she would just not throw. Washing the floors again and again and again. As I get more proficient in doing these things when I don't want to, I grow in my ability to choose to do a more involved task. Maybe I'll choose to follow through laundry to completion one day. I know this is an obvious weakness when my husband can't find pants for the toddler because he wouldn't think to look in the drawer instead of just the basket. 

The other day I did accomplish a feat. For me, at least. Thanksgiving, my husband bought a turkey. The day before our thanksgiving feast, we decided to invite people and it suddenly turned into dinner for eight (ten, but two didn't show). Usually my husband would help, with frozen appies, stove-top stuffing,  packaged gravy, and a store bought dessert (and many Italian influenced comments to make more, more, more). I was determined to serve a dinner that didn't have the processed and the high salt. So I took the whole day alone to cook and occupy our toddler. 

I discovered, like I said, that it wasn't impossible. Just time consuming. Especially with the moments I would say, "Just a  minute, sweetie, I'll come look/ play/ cuddle/ read as soon as I get this in the oven/ finish mopping this floor". I got the turkey in the oven. I made pie. I prepared potatoes and chopped up a salad. I made sausage apple stuffing. I whipped up cheese sauce for broccoli and cauliflower. I baked brown sugar squash. And, worried the whole time that it wouldn't work, I made gravy. After dinner I made whipped cream. It wasn't perfect. The stuffing was soggy. The cheese sauce runny. The gravy was thin. But it was good. 

And, of course, while I cooked for guests, I scrubbed bathrooms, cleaned floors, washed dishes. And cleaned up at the end of the night (we have a tall, bad dog who requires a clean dining room and kitchen or he will try to help, and chew up dishes in the process).

There were other things I couldn't do that day. But the reward was worth it. A day was totally eaten up beginning to end. But as a result we had a nice dinner, with great company to talk with and cute entertainment from my little flirty singer.  I love having people over for dinner. I wish I could get myself over my issues of busyness mixed with laziness and anxiety that results in not being hospitable. A while ago, my husband and I decided we would have a dinner party once a month. That maybe happened once. But, it is still always in the back of my mind. 

I think the biggest thing is to change my focus. Concentrate on the results. Enjoy the learning. Live in the moment. Not in fear of failure. Fear of people cancelling. Fear of people being uncomfortable (because seriously, I've never found an acceptable temperature). Fear of being judged. Fear of ending up ready too early or late. Fear of forgetting something important (I still vividly remember my mom crying once when I was a child because she made a big turkey dinner and forgot a major component). Instead, I just need to enjoy the now. 

My toddler is helping me take advantage of each opportunity. To stop and smell the roses (though I think she still blows instead of sniffs). She impels me to see the new and exciting in everything. She had a blast climbing the clumped chairs while I mopped. She loves to taste test and stir as I cook. She loves to go through the utensil drawer and identify everything she finds. She'll pull out a ladle and declare, "Soup!" Or pick up something else and say, "What's this?" Then repeat my response over and over. 

She loves the kitchen. And she loves company. My husband loves company, too. Another reason to push through what makes me uncomfortable so we can indulge in what we love to do together.

So, who's coming for dinner next?

Thanksgiving and Habits

My last day of work before the weekend, everyone was talking about their thanksgiving dinner plans, drooling over the idea of turkey dinner and grinning with the anticipation of gathering with loved ones. Each comment made me pout a little more inside that we weren't having a thanksgiving this year. And the more it irritated me the more it was brought up. 

I love family get togethers. But some have moved away (and are dearly missed). Others have decided to wait until another time to visit. Our usual hosts, who spoil us so, are out of town. Everyone is doing something else. And so, for the first year in a while, I'm left with just my household to celebrate. 

As my weekend progressed, though, I came to quite enjoy the idea of thanksgiving anyway. The gorgeous colors are still on display. The pumpkins are begging to become pie. The frost is starting to show its bite in the early morning. The snuggly sweaters and trendy scarves and cozy blankets are being put to use. 

Maybe it was the uplifting church meeting we had Thursday night. Maybe it's the extra cleaning and the tapping into my creativity to prepare for my daughters second birthday party (so excited). But I've come to see I have many reasons in my life to give thanks.

The one thing that tops that list, of course, is my darling, amazing daughter. Her personality is starting to blossom. Her nurturing as she talks to her stuffed animals, asking if they're okay and putting them to bed. Her tattling as the dog tries to sneak in the dining room. Her joyful, constant singing of a wide range of songs I can't believe she knows. Her organizing and cleaning up. And her desire to be on top of things. 

The other day I silently did some push ups. In the past I have always counted to encourage her to remember numbers. I didn't this time, as she was busy playing. As I finished and went to get up, she promptly dropped what she was doing and assumed the position next to me and told me to do it again as I forgot to count. Silly me.

It's crazy how easily things form into habits. One supper, in an effort to get her to eat, I said, "What's that noise?! It's your tummy saying feed me!" This instantly progressed into an exuberant, every meal occurrence with some interesting repeats. "It's my heart, saying I love you" (oh, I just melt when she puts her hand on her chest and says that to me). Or, "It's your armpit, saying tickle me."

We have our, "Hey! I love you!" yelling matches. Our bazillion excuses to have a tickle match. Our silly dances around the kitchen. Our Chitty Chitty Bang Bang snuggles. Our fun grocery store trips (minus the occasional break down when we leave). Our favorite lullabies and running my fingers through her hair. I wouldn't trade motherhood for anything. 

I am very thankful for the opportunity to be healthy and raise a child post-leukemia. I am honored to have a dedicated and loving husband. I am grateful for my friends and family. For my sometimes-behaved dogs. For my church. And for the fact that I live in such an astoundingly beautiful place.

My daughter and I can safely enjoy explorative outings surrounded by peaceful forests and majestic mountains with our dogs. Or we can randomly walk about quaint coffee shops and smiling faces just a few minutes away. And soon, she'll be awed at the coming of fluffy, throwable, pile-able (and shovel it again and again and again) snow.

What blessings I have. 

Oh, Interruptions

Every day has it's fleeting interruptions. Situations not planned for that need to be dealt with. I know that there are some interceptions I handle well. But there are other things the average person would roll their eyes at or grumble about and continue while I can have a little fit of frustration. Oh, so mature. 

Some things just wouldn't happen to another person. My lack of planning in a life with two large dogs, a kinetic toddler, and a busy husband combines to create some unique situations. 

Fervently searching through the laundry basket for a matching pair of socks as the clock ticks closer and closer to tardy, only to step in puddle of something in the hallway with the two black but different cut socks that were finally found. Lesson I refuse to learn: Put the laundry away. 

Patiently trying to rush the visit to the post office while the curious toddler plays on the stairs and then touches everything possible, only to find, when she eventually asks for the keys in helpful anticipation, that they were forgotten at home. Lesson I refuse to learn: Check for keys before embarking on a post office adventure. 

Responsibly preparing lunch and washing little hands and struggling to get a busy little girl to agree to come to the table, only to discover that the high chair tray is not quite usable as it is still covered with the explosion that was intended to be breakfast. Lesson I refuse to learn: Promptly clean up what will frequently be needed. 

Consistenly being sure to clean up the beloved toys when going to bed or leaving the house, in order to avoid another tragedy like the cherished monkey back pack being devoured, but finding the dog decided to eat (or attempt to eat) another random item, like cans in the recycling bin or a bible that was sitting on the couch. Lesson I refuse to learn: Anything can be used to tame a large dog's boredom. 

Comfortably sleeping in freshly changed bedding without taking the time to launder the removed set and becoming victim to a leaky diaper in the middle of the night and no clean sheets. Lesson I fail to learn: From bed to washer (or buy more sheets).

Watching the joy of learning expressed in a child's face while ignoring inner warnings of safety of said discovery item, until something ends up broken in sharp shards all over the floor. Lesson I fail to learn: Listen to the voice in my head that says to get the breakable away from the miniature analyst. 

And what will tomorrow bring? A generous poop just as we load in the car? A scramble to remember everything while forgetting the obvious, like my purse? The desire to get everyone else ready resulting in the realization that I didn't eat or I didn't brush my teeth? Blindly driving past my destination in a zomby state in the truck?

Hopefully none of the above. Instead, maybe surprise kisses and unsolicited hugs. Finding what I need and remembering all my tasks. Having clean laundry and an empty laundry basket. 

Don't push it. The laundry will get done when it gets done. If ever. 

Do More... Or Not

Two nights ago I went to bed I feeling powerful and hopeful and intentional. I was going to get up in the morning and make some positive changes. I was going to tackle all the insurmountable things that were bothering me. I was going to do something about it instead of complain about it. I had just attended a woman's conference on the weekend with my church. I was determined to dispel the stress I'd been feeling lately by taking action. I was going to dive into the places in which I have fear and walk forward knowing that I can do anything. 

Then I discovered I couldn't. 

I woke up very early in the morning with a very sore back. I don't think it's ever been that sore before. A nerve must have been pinched or something because it was spasming all the way around to the front. 

Needless to say, I am currently not very productive. My zealous intentions have turned into relaxing and stretching, ice and massage. Not only have I not got to the list of productive ideas that I had made, I haven't even done the bare day to day stuff that needs to be done. I still don't know what we are eating for dinner. 

I'm getting the feeling that maybe I misunderstood the message this weekend. God might be shaking his head and saying, "No, Lindy, I didn't say to do more and be more." 

Really? I already feel quite guilty about all the work I saw many of my friends put into the conference while I didn't help at all. I should have. I had no reason not to help. I should be doing more. 

But even though the conference talked about saying yes to what God was wanting us to step out and do, doing was not the theme. It was more about believing in who God says we are and what we are capable of and trusting Him to help as we venture out.

Often, as I stress over what I need to do and how that is going to be accomplished, I definitely focus on the possibility of failure. And if you ask my husband, when I am doing I am not contributing to a pleasant atmosphere. Most of our relationship tension comes from our times of volunteer or helping others. A little task is enveloped by self doubt and questioning. I get tense and he gets the fallout. 

I had planned on being stronger by working harder this week. But the reality is, if I feel anxious being productive, then being more productive isn't going to give me peace. I am a big fan of facing your fears and conquering issues by doing them, but doing something wrong repeatedly isn't going to turn it right. 

I need to ease up. Let go. Believe in myself. Believe in others. Work together. And enjoy the journey.  

Today, the journey isn't that great as I relax my back on the couch and look at my dirty floor and contemplate preparing for winter. But there will be plenty of time for that later. 

Life is really too short to do everything for selfish reasons or simply to get approval. Sometimes you have to let go of what will get you the most accolades so you can focus on what will benefit the future of you and your loved ones the most.

And usually, to work toward the best future you need to stop fearing your own role in that future.

I am capable and worthy. Not because of what I do. But because I'm not in it alone. 

She Has Something To Tell You

As I took my daughter into a store one day, I told her that mommy had to go upstairs and go potty first. At the next person she encountered, she proudly called out, "Upstairs, potty first!" And she told all the other people on our route.

I have to be careful what I tell her. She is now apt to share with any stranger who comes along. Today in the grocery store, she was telling everyone we were there to buy diapers (good thing I wasn't tampon shopping). And she was telling me, too, every time I grabbed another item for the cart, like eggs and milk. Yes, I know, I said we were picking up diapers. We are getting there. And no, that is not diapers, but thank you for your help. 

Of course, when we did find the diapers, she made me laugh. I turned down the isle and looked to the left and told her we were finally at the diapers. She looked to the right at a wall of large bags of dog food and exclaimed in amazement, "Oh, look, doggy diapers!"

Her discovering and learning is entertaining. I love how she is starting to recall things and talk about them. Right now she is repeatedly sharing with anyone who will listen (and understand) how she went and watched Planes (the movie) with Dad. She'll often include that it was scary. Then there is the story about how she was in a train. Or the frustration when she informs, "Buddy eat!" Her dog has lately taken a mischievous liking to her toys. As a result she is often blaming him for anything out of place. 

Other times, she rambles on and on and I only decipher the odd word in her tale. She'll tell me how things scared her and other things were fun. She'll recount her day or recall a story in a book. Sometimes she'll stop and laugh at herself before continuing her narrative. 

We enjoy relaying our day's adventures to her dad. Before we know it, her father and I will be sitting at the dinner table asking how her day went and what she learned in school.  I'm glad she's developing a desire to share. Now I have to figure out how to encourage it but also steer her away from wanting to tell everyone without shutting her down. Today she invited a stranger walking by to join her on the next "horse" as she sat on a bike rack 

I recollect being young and having adults give me the response that proclaims that's great, but why do I care? I ended up very shy. I don't know if it was in my make up or if it was a shutting down as a result of feeling ignored or unappreciated. As a mother I am very aware that my responses are taken seriously. My little girl doesn't know how many distractions or stresses I have in that moment. She just knows she has something to say and I'm right there. 

And so are many passersby. As she says hello or announces our purpose, many times I have to say, "He didn't hear you, Honey." Or, "She's busy, Sweetie."

But, many other times there are people open to hear the goings on of our day from an energetic little toddler who finds everything exciting, from our to do list to our shopping list to the list of distractions getting in our way. 

So far, she hasn't embarrassed me.

Toddler Crib?

It's getting about the time when my toddler should have her crib exchanged for a bed. She looks peculiar behind the bars of her crib, like a creature in an unusual habitat, but with an odd familiarity stemming from long nights of trying to get our baby to sleep. She's not a baby anymore. Not that she really spent much time in there sleeping during her infancy. 

We have the new bed, waiting in the shed. A cute house with a shelf and a window. She has already delightedly approved, as she checked it out when we brought it home. She didn't know it was a bed, as it was missing the mattress. To her it was some awesome castle that she asked to see again for days. She'll love it. She's probably ready.

But mom isn't ready.

The idea of her climbing out of bed and exploring at will and unattended while I think she is sleeping terrifies me. Even if she only has access to her room. I can just see myself checking on her as much as I did when she first slept in another room. Which was, what? Not until five or six months old? 

What if she tries to climb her book shelf? What if she unplugs her fan and tries to stick something else in the socket? What if...?

Oh, the scenarios I could contrive if I let myself think too much! It reminds me of Aunt Josephine in A Series of Unfortunate Events. "Watch out for that cart. It might break free and run us over." She saw the danger in absolutely everything. Everything! I used to see the danger in all things. I'd envision the dramatic mishaps and doleful inconveniences constantly throughout my day. The result of a combination of bad experiences, witnessing too much attention grabbing, and my mom's strong desire to teach by pointing everything out.

I'm not as crazy anymore. I'm a little subdued, due to necessity. Now, in my current situation, my anxiety could really be quenched with diligent and thorough baby proofing. Well, toddler proofing. This little girl sees everything. Watches everything. Explores everything. Copies everything. She wants to put things where mommy and daddy put them and use things how mommy and daddy use them. I've already learned not to wash the toilet in her presence. 

But I can't guard her forever. I try to be ever-present and let her explore safely. But her freedom is expanding. She's going to cause some trouble eventually. Apparently, as children my brother and I made a nice, big breakfast in bed for mom. A concoction complete with coffee grounds to add some pep. And, of course, the accompanying mess. 

I'm not worried about messes. She has dumped the dog dishes all over the floor. Dumped her smoothies all over the table. Dumped her toy boxes down the stairs. Dumped my purse on the street. Dumped the groceries in the supermarket (clean up, meat isle). Dumped whatever she can into the bubble bath (cardboard and toilet paper mixed in a bath does not create a clean baby). All intentionally, by the way. In addition to her exploring, she is helping all the time. We are used to messes. Very used to messes. 

Whether clean or disheveled, my desire is that she remain as safe as we can make her. And there are so many stories online about freak accidents. Of course, I don't want to be another who didn't take care and then regretted it. 

But I also don't want to be the one who over-sheltered or minimized opportunities and growth due to fear.

Keeping the crib for a while isn't going to create any emotional damage for my little munchkin. I see no reason to rush it. Though my mother insists she will try to climb out and injure herself.

I'll just have to make the decision every day. And, today she still has a crib. Next week, she probably will as well. 

Eventually. We'll get there eventually. We'll potty train eventually, too. (Yes, I'm still apprehensive of potty training. But that is yet another topic.)

Does this help Motherhood?

Being a patient, loving, encouraging mother can be difficult sometimes. There are the stresses of life that distract us. Money, safety, diet, the future. There are the tiresome day to day requirements, like cooking, cleaning, and shopping. And doing it all again. With a helper. Some days there isn't enough time to intuitively teach, kindly admonish, patiently guide, and joyfully encourage. Occasionally, our goal is to just get through. The worries and stresses we have to deal with aren't the only ones. We have our little children's emotions to deal with as well.

Today I didn't let her buckle her own seat because we were late. We were late getting one more stop in before nap. Not a good combination.

Today my daughter watched a huge spider flutter in the wind outside the window. After it fell she was certain the speck of food on her shirt was said spider. Not a good outcome.

But, the ups and downs occur. The tears break for the smiles. The overwhelming moments are separated by the amazing or the entertaining.

Today my daughter woke up from nap, recited the alphabet, and promptly fell back asleep.

Today, my daughter begged, Daddy, move your chair. I want mine behind. (She is working on the idea of behind and in front of.) Daddy! I can't see the TV now!!

It can be difficult. But definitely more rewarding. The joys of discovery. There is nothing better than being a parent. Truly.

There is one thing that I cannot grasp, though. Why, oh why, would nature -- nature that wants to grow our family and not tear it apart -- decide to take a tired, busy, concerned woman...

...and give her PMS.

I just don't get it. I would never hurt my child. But I'm sure my attitude is exponentially worse when dealing with things those few days a month. (I say I'm sure like it is even questionable instead of obvious). It isn't something that results in better parenting, that's for certain. My confidence drops, my attention span wanes, and I would rather just sleep and not talk to anyone.

But I have this adorable little girl telling me stories and wanting to learn to put on her own clothing. Can't we just stay naked today?

I know PMS is a part of life. I also know that it can be exemplified by certain factors. Some months it passes with little notice and my relationships are intact and no bad decisions have been made. Other times life just ceases to function.

But it must continue. I must demonstrate that even though I'd love to chop my husband's head off in my hormonal state, I still love Daddy. I must perform my tasks and show her that things need to be done whether you feel like it or not. I must be devoted to her like my true self even when this intruder takes over and can't stand crying and whining. I. Must. Be. A. Good. Mom.

Or, we can just nap all afternoon, eat pancakes for dinner, and watch nature videos. That sounds great, too.

Leave It At That

This morning I was beating myself up for not planning better. I was kicking myself for worrying and letting it hold me back. I was not happy with my results. I seriously had tears. Oh, I'm such a baby, but I'm telling you my story.

I only beat my last 12K race by four minutes.

Nope, I wasn't feeling pride for getting out and doing the race. I wasn't focusing on the fact that, compared to my first attempt 3 years ago, my performance improved. No soreness in my knees (which last time made me think I couldn't run anymore), no tightness in my muscles, and no headache or nausea. I would say that's a step up.

Instead, I was trying to make excuses. I slowed down to congratulate my husband on his first attempt at the 5K (how could I not?); I kept it cautious so I'd still feel good for next weekend's obstacle challenge; I raced without a rest day yesterday because I thought I was only going to do the 5K today; I backtracked two blocks because I went the wrong way. And, ugh, why did I go the wrong way? Because I was incessantly grumbling about how it didn't look like I was going to make my 70 minute goal and so I totally missed the marker that told me to turn.

This is a full representation of me. I tell myself how I could have done it more accurately or efficiently. I remind myself how I could change to be better. I don't cut myself any slack. Quite frankly, as I saw when I missed my turn, it doesn't encourage me to improve. It greatly discourages.

And the scary part is that what I tell myself regularly is written all over my face with my interactions with my daughter.

Yuck.

Every day she attempts new feats. She pushes her boundaries. She learns and grows. She amazes me. There are two responses that I can have. One is my pride shining through in joy for her accomplishments and support for her struggles. The other is my push to help her do it the absolute best of the best. You may understand this drive, or you may find it heartless. This push isn't meant to be discouraging. We want our children to do better than we did. We want them to make it in this world. But appreciation and patience goes a lot farther than high expectations. I see the effects of this in so many painful, stressful lives.

The last thing I want is for her to be a perfectionist like her mom. To be unable to act due to fear of failure. Or, conversely, do nothing because she could never please.

I want her to be able to forgive herself and move on. To enjoy the process. Enjoy the people alongside her in the journey (instead of repelling them). I want her to anticipate the challenges of the future with excitement instead of anxiety.

I pray my little darling will be able to say, "Yay, look what I did!" Even if it wasn't what the next person did. She'll be able to look at her own growth, her own effort, and her own accomplishments. This comparing that we are bombarding each other with distracts from the true challenges and goals. And the adventure and beauty along the way.

If she just plain didn't cut it, I want her to acknowledge it and move on. There is too much ahead to strive for to be stuck in what has passed.

Sure, I didn't prepare for today like I should have. But fretting about it won't increase my time. Worrying about it won't turn back the clock. Thinking about it won't decrease the emotions I felt for being so far behind. Whining to my husband won't help him see me as any better.

I'm a runner. Great. I did it. Wonderful. Leave it at that.

Here We Go Again

In a week I will be competing in another exciting obstacle course event. This one is called a Spartan. It is much shorter than my last event but also more intense as it is timed and any failed obstacles require doing thirty burpees. Yuck. In the Tough Mudder I only failed one obstacle. It wasn't a failure as I made it farther on the inclined monkey bars than I ever thought I would. I would have failed other obstacles without teamwork, but that is what we were there to do. Oh, I did fail three I guess, if you count being dragged out of a trench and a pipe as my hernia popped out. Team work.

A burpee is a push up springing into a jump in the air. A year ago just doing a few would literally make me puke. Literally. I tried frog jumping at power fit and the world spun. Now thirty is feasible, though not at a great pace. I feel confident and prepared enough for this event. I had overtrained for the last challenge and was happy with the result but struggled with being very cold and eventually losing all my arm strength. So I have been trying to focus on using my legs more. I can now climb an eight foot wall without too much strain on my arms. Though repeated attempts when mastering the skill really pulled my side muscles.

All of this may be of no interest to you. But I'm pretty stoked. I feel like a healthy person. An actual, for real, not faking-it healthy person. Who can continue to carry around my affectionate, 26 pound toddler.

Not like someone who lived unhealthy and is trying to change. Not like a couch potato who struggled with headaches. I no longer feel like I am battling constant weakness. I no longer fear hurting myself. I no longer feel like I am overcoming fibromyalgia. I no longer suffer constant tension. Though the first day I did thirty burpees was followed by a sick day as I regretfully couldn't move because I hurt from my fingertips up into my face, from my neck down my back. Even healthy people need to work into things.

Just imagine if I got enough sleep.

So, after Spartan my goal will be to train and cut my next year's Tough Mudder time. Maybe actually be able to do a few chin ups. Or, better yet, get my husband involved. He's not afraid of heights. He's the strongest man I know. He ran in school. He should have been the one doing this. I think it'd be a dream come true to have him there with me.

Don't most wives dream of exquisite romance? I dream of facing challenges and overcoming obstacles. Conquering fears and discovering potential. He got me to bungee jump. So now I have to get him running long distance. Sounds like a great challenge.

Hoo-rah!

How Does Your Garden Grow?

I've decided that next year I want to embark in growing a garden. This year we had a few measly pots with strawberries, snap peas, tomatoes, and some lettuce. My daughter thoroughly enjoyed picking off the berries, which never even made it to the bowl. I believe the only reason she would try the peas was because we went out and picked them ourselves. She was so excited to eat them.

I figure, then, that she would be more open to sampling vegetables if we grew them ourselves. (Fruit we have no problem with. She could live off of fruit.) I remember having a garden when I was about 12. I think it may have been the only year. I remember gorging on so much broccoli. They taste so good freshly picked and pesticide free.

I am a little fed up with pesticides. But the world consumes so much food I can see how we got to this point where what we try to nourish ourselves with is drenched in poison as it grows. I am certain it isn't good for us. And I am very unhappy with the idea of yield and profit coming before our health.

I will admit that as a cancer survivor I worry too much about the effects of what we eat on our bodies. I am trying to cut down on sugar and avoid processed. I am trying to up my organic fruits and vegetables. My husband thinks I am neurotic but he doesn't realise we still eat plenty of what a fanatically health conscious person would not. I will let some things slide, but change won't come through indifference. If no one wanted the pesticide laden food, maybe they would make changes.

But I think ignorance is the biggest issue. For the longest time, I didn't even know what GMO was and figured it was something the scientists were careful with and so it was okay. They wouldn't harm our food supply, would they?

But then I learned what GMO means. Genetically Modified Organisms have been altered at the gene level. For our food this often means seed altered to grow plants resistant to pesticides. Then, instead of farming in separated rows with room for machinery and people to get in and remove weeds, they can pack many more plants in and just drench them with Round-Up. Oh, and who invented these GMO seeds? The makers of Round-Up. They're happy. And the farmers are happy because It saves them money on staff and equipment and produces much more crop. Pesticide soaked crop. More is not better. So I want to avoid it.

All my daughter knows is what tastes yummy. She doesn't know the source or how much we pay. She just tries what is in front of her (and makes suggestions, which usually include berries). She struggles with the texture of the green leafy group. But she'll drink a spinach smoothy and I get her some greens.

Maybe we'll experiment with the myriad of leafy options in our future garden. I can see it expand now. We'll plant sweet peppers and zucchini. Hmmm, this might be work. Of course, I'll look into what grows successfully in our area. Unfortunately, I can't grow bananas. We consume an absurd amount of those in this house (smoothies, pancakes, banana bread, snack).

You'd think we were a bunch of monkeys.

Nope. Just a growing family that loves food and might as well get nutritional benefits on top of our taste bud experiences. And some planting and sowing bounty too.

How does your garden grow?