 Please save us from the earnest Organic Moms. You know the type. They show up at the preschool party with tofu and seaweed muffins while the best you could do is slice and bake chemical tube cookies. They have lots of instructions for playdates too. “Please don’t give little Logan any juice because kids who drink juice don’t grow tall, no gluten because he has onomatopoeia, and keep in mind he may not eat your grape jelly because he’s used to homemade.” Guess what Logan does when he’s at my house. Begs for the store-brand sandwich cookies while zoning out on Bugs Bunny. Secretly, I enjoy this. Have some more processed nuggets, Little Lord Fauntleroy.
I would admire these mothers’ good intentions if only they would keep their superiority to themselves. But when they roll their eyes at the moms who could only manage to bring in Oreo’s for the pre-school snack I get an urge to shove some Cool-whip into their gobs.
You would expect their children to have an aura of healthy wonderfulness about them. The light reflecting off their children’s Tom’s of Maine-cleansed teeth would blind the rest of us. The funny thing is their chemically-challenged kids don’t seem any healthier than my chemically-enhanced children. They have just as many hacking coughs that you try to pretend you didn’t notice before school drop-off time. (Gosh, he seemed fine this morning.)
Maybe I’m just jealous. There’s no way I have the discipline to research every morsel my child eats. I’m too lazy. Especially when they keep changing the rules midgame. You think you have it nailed until you find out the formerly wholesome snack food you’ve been serving up is loaded with not just fat, but THE WORST KIND OF FAT.
Also, I don’t have the money. Apparently better health is reserved for the trust fund babies. Side by side sits the regular broccoli and the organic broccoli. At twice the price it’s really hard for me to justify buying the organic. I figure I’ll just rinse it a little more and hope for the best. “But if you buy organic it’s better for the planet” say the Organic Moms as they pull out of the Whole Foods parking lot in their Yukon Denalis.
I guess it’s that lack of consistency that vexes me. Will it behoove my family to eat soynuts all day while we’re stuck in traffic behind a toxin-spewing Mack truck? Will the fish-oil capsules I swallow protect me from the mercury in my dolphin-safe tuna salad? There’s just no way one can be completely pure and clean, living as we do on an imperfect, festering planet. I suppose you have to at least try, but don’t beat yourself up if your kid occasionally eats a maraschino cherry instead of a Kale Krunchie Bomb.
Not that I’m letting Big Food off the hook, mind you. I know what they’re trying to do to us: make us buy more food. And they’re trying to do it at a profit by using less than the best ingredients. This shouldn’t be a news flash. It’s big business. It’s evil. But does that mean we have to chuck it all, get a land claim in Alaska, and live on bark and berries? I mean, maybe you can have a Pop-Tart every so often. I think the trouble starts when you start going through a case a week. And besides, you can’t tell me the Organic Moms aren’t raiding the cabinet looking for Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-Tarts after they’ve indulged in a satisfying, post-PTA meeting spliff. Or so I’ve been told.
I suppose it is indicative of our culture. If a little is good then more must be better. That mentality trickles down to the health front. It’s not enough to cut down on your kid’s Cheeto consumption and force-feed them some broccoli every few weeks. No, you must go completely organic and make sure little Morgan eats only soy-based protein and organic pine-nuts. I mean, I like hummus as much as the next person, maybe more, but if you can resist Cheeze Doodles then I don’t trust you.
Perhaps Cheeze Doodle consumption will soon be regulated for our own good, just as smoking has become a criminal act. I used to smoke and I must say I really liked it. I know quitting was the right thing to do but I refuse to brand all smokers as weak, pathetic, selfish people who want to inflict cancer on my precious lungs with their second-hand smoke. So now in most states smoking has been outlawed in bars. What a relief that bars can now be enjoyed as the healthy, wholesome places they were meant to be.
What’s next? Are they going to police every supermarket checkout line? “Lady, we’re replacing this whole milk with skim, because frankly, you need it.” “If you’ll just cooperate, we’ll allow you the Brie cheese pending the results of your blood work.”
Like most mothers, I have good intentions. I’ve tried to instill good eating habits in my offspring. The Books say if you start them out as babies on veggies instead of fruit they won’t develop a sweet tooth. Well, the bouncing baby to whom I spoon fed organic brown rice and peas (the kid had more gas than a hot-air balloon festival in Chicago) is now a second-grader clawing at the pantry in search of a plastic fruit roll-up.
Yeah, yeah, if I didn’t have the fruit roll-ups in the house they wouldn’t ask for them. Well, all it takes is one “playdate” (cringe) at another kid’s house that DOES have them to make your kids start nagging you relentlessly.
The Books also say your kids learn from you and if you “model” good eating habits, they will too. Right. I’d like to force-feed some free-range crow to that child-rearing expert. I can shove carrot sticks in my maw in front of my kids all day, but they will still whine for the Ritz Bits (the new, awesome pizza flavor).
At this point I rejoice when my kids eat broccoli and non-fat granola bars but mostly I am defeated in my quest for organic purity. I am reduced to feelings of schadenfreude when the organic kid gets Coxsackie at the town pool anyway despite his superior immune system. And am I the only person who wasn’t surprised when they found e-coli in alfalfa sprouts?
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Quirkee Voices 
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