Getting Smart

I've done it. Ohhhh, I've gone and done it. I finally bit the bullet and got smart.

Smartphone, that is. The iPhone 4, to be specific. (I can't get hip all at once, can I? It'd be the iPhone 5, if that's the case. And if you're reading this post in a couple of years, it'd be the iPhone 79b.)

After lots of hemming and hawing, I looked at my Verizon Wireless options and saw that I could get one for free, with free activation and shipping. I then Googled whether the lowest data plan should cover me (we've got wifi at home, and I won't be using the thing for anything more than texting at work), and it seems that it'll do.

Then, I played a game of badminton in my brain.


"Is this thing really going to simplify my life?"

"Actually, yeah. You'll be able to keep pictures in one place, upload them to your blog a zillion times easier, and the millions of tiny annoyances that your current dinosaur give you will *poof* disappear."

"Learning curve?"

"Every time you get a new phone, you've gotta learn something new. Try it again. Change is good."

"It's $30 more a month."

"Eat out one less time per month." (At which point I did math and realized that if we stopped eating out one time a month, we'd save around $360 a year...give or take. DUDE!)

"But! Soooo! Faaaancy!!!"

"You're a grown-up. You'll adjust."

For once, I didn't have that feeling of the guillotine hanging over my head, so I figured it was time. I took the plunge, and it's on its way. I'm nervous but OHHHHH so excited.

Instagram, here I come. Woohoo!

Now, it's your turn. Any good apps? And where do I get accessories cheaply? I know there are cheaper options than what they were trying to sell alongside the thing on Verizon, so do tell -- car adapter and covers, inexpensively but stylish (the cover...can also just be white) -- go!

Birthday Bash Brainstorming

Mmm, alliteration. Truly a girl's best friend. And after re-reading this post, parentheses.

So, the monkey's big birthday (you know, the BIG birthday...the FIRST birthday) is coming up July 13th. Sure, it's still May, but I live in this little place called reality, where once a child is born, time starts playing horrific tricks on us. He's practically shaving.

Okay, not shaving, but he's insanely mobile (mere moments from walking, I swear) and even says a few words. Wait, "oof oof" is totally a word, right? It is when it's associated with dogs (and, for the time being, cats...they're the same thing, all the cool kids say). And the time seriously feels like it passed in the blink of an eye. The blink of an exhaustedly blood-shot, tear-filled eye.

To stave off any further waterworks, I'm focusing my emotional energies into creating an awesomesauce birthday party. I'm using Pinterest, oh evil mistress of perfection-flaunting in the face of mere mortals, to glean some ideas that might be fun to try. But, you know, since I live in reality (and am the mother of an active 10 1/2 month old who demands attention; would he prefer to have free reign and complete independence? Sure thing. Do I want to have a child with numerous concussions and cats with mental scars for life? Hellz no.), I'm fully aware that most of these aren't attainable.

We can dream, can't we? If I hit 40%, that'll be doing something.

Oh, and I also live within a reality which involves people who would think me a tad overboard for implementing all this stuff. So, I have to reign it in, too, simply as not to have any heads exploding come July 13th. Not a pretty way to celebrate a fun day. Horrible replacement to fireworks.

As with most things we do, I'd like to keep it green. Recently, I stumbled upon a website that is essentially nothing but a depressing sob-fest (for softies such as myself) displaying hundreds of pictures of animals who have been injured or killed by balloons after being allowed to float away or even just after being thrown away properly. Damn, Hadman loves balloons. That's okay, social responsibility comes first -- and he won't even know what he missed. Tissue pom-poms or Chinese lanterns, it is, son! 

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What's a birthday party without hats? A regular ol' barbecue, that's what. So, for those who want to wear one (sign me up, please!), we have a couple of options...

(These are wooden, but you get the idea. I guess they make birthday crowns from newspaper in England. Not only eco-friendly, but classic! Hadley's not a hat guy, so this is only an "if Mommy wants to get all Martha Stewart and sleep very little" option.)

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I've already purchased some hats (to reuse over time), but dude. Just dude.
That whole site is chock full o' birthday sweetness.

Like these!!!!! I'm on the hunt for some sans serif cookie cutters. Baking in inevitably 90° weather with an almost-toddler? I'm an idiot. But, if I find an "H" I can use it every year! Y'know. In the sweltering heat. *smacks forehead* Oh, and of COURSE I'm searching for natural (ie fruits and veggies) alternatives to food coloring. Blueberry's a must, simply because Hads loves 'em.

Or I could always make (or buy?) cake pops. I've never had them but I hear they're the rage. Or, at least that's what the kiddies are shouting into my Miracle Ear. Could also buy cupcakes (maybe the ones we used for our wedding!!!) and make a smash cake myself for the monkey. Ha. More baking.

Speaking of smash cakes, here's a lower sugar, all-natural option I'm considering.
Plus, bananas and blueberries = very happy almost-toddler. I did not just type that word. *sigh*

STILL from the aforementioned party (man, that Beckham's got swagger), I love just the simple container for napkins, utensils, etc (I was searching Target today for eco-friendly of all of the above; think I'll have to hit up Peter's Cornucopia; love that place) and a chalkboard for the menu. Of course, this is the one area that I'll be considered crazy if I just say "Let's just do a cheese/cracker (I guess we don't do "bread") and veggie tray, some cookies and cupcakes, and maybe some cute sandwiches on baguettes." Inevitably, there will be mounds of salads -- green (specifically for my husband, who eats nothing with mayonnaise), potato, pasta -- possibly several types of grilled meats, perhaps a pizza will show up...food's one thing we do, and do to excess. No point, really.

See, in my mind, which is always grasping for the aesthetically-pleasing, slightly quirky and quasi-hip method, I'd want the money (hell, if no one else wants to pitch in, I'll do it!) on organic soda (it exists! And in purdy bottles, too!) and a craft beer chilling in a galvanized tub with some homemade lemonade in mason jars, and a display that looks something like this (sans tomato soup and pie)...

Darn you, Beckham.

I am also considering, food-wise, something along the lines of this...

Not that font or description, but the thought behind it. Our kid's got a pretty refined pallet (read: will eat anything, particularly off floor). Avocados. Extra-sharp cheese. Pasta. A plethora of fruit-and-veg blends including kale or beets. Oh, and pizza...and generally anything that adults eat that we literally need to fight him off to consume. It turns into a scene from Oliver!, I kid you not. "Please, sir...!!!" So, I'm thinking pizza, homemade guac with chips for dippin' (maybe salsa, too), fruit salad (bananas, kiwi, blueberries, cantaloupe), veggie sticks (the ones in the organic chip aisle; he can't handle the raw stuff quite yet), and cheese 'n crackers (or a cheese dip of some sort).

By the way, we're not doing a theme this year. We considered it for one mad minute, but then realized "Um, he's one. That's a theme right there." (If we wanted to get all dramatic, we could do the "Not yet a man, no longer an infant..." theme. Mustaches abound! Or giraffes. God, the giraffes.) We're just going with the colors of his nursery, for the most part -- y'know, turquoise, orange, green. Good times.

(Maybe one day we'll do the Mo Willems theme...or the Fred Astaire theme...or whatever the heck else he's interested in. But, we'll strive to keep them home-grown events without the rigmarole of inviting an entire freaking grade of kids. We're not here to show off, just have fun. And Mommy totally has fun with aesthetically-arranged sodas, mkay?)

Speaking of which, one thing that our parties tend to lack is organized fun. It's a tad tough to do this (same goes for favors) since we don't really have a plethora of kids coming. There's Hadley, his cousin Lizzie (who will be 2 months shy of 2 years old *more sobbing*), and MAAAAAYBE one more friend of the family who's not school-aged yet. Tada. The rest are teenagers *yet more sobbing, I changed their dipes* and a buttload of grown-ups. So, rather than force people to violently whack something whilst wearing a blindfold (never got that), I'm thinkin' we'll do a variation of this...

Halleluia, it wasn't at Beckham's party! (No hard feelings, kid. You seem pretty darn cool. Future play date! My child is far less crazy than am I.) Anyhoo, I was thinking more of a card that folks could fill out -- one would write something loose like this while the other might have fill-in blanks (what he wants to be, what color his hair will be, what his favorite animal/instrument/food/hobbies/sport, etc.) and folks can do either one. I also considered a photo booth type thingie (just hanging a backdrop and leaving directions and props for photos), but I'm not sure anyone will do it. Party poopers.

Oh, and as far as entertainment goes, it sounds like the hubs hopes to make a video of the kid's first year. Talk about emotions, gah!

Another "oh, and" -- this whole thing is kindly taking place at my mother's house since she has a perfectly-sized backyard for stretching out, playing, and so forth. I mentioned inviting non-family members (it reaches about 16 or 17 just with close family) and I think I heard smoke come out of her ears through the phone. She nervously mentioned not knowing what to do with folks if it rains, but I brushed it off. (Sure, neither of our houses is big enough to handle that many people. I get the concern, I do.) But, it ain't no thang. We'll make it work. I know folks with "pop-ups" and we could always run and grab an extra tarpy tenty thingie or two. I'm on it, Mom!! If you read this. In which case, HI!!!

One last thing (check me out on Pinterest if you really want to subject yourself to more) is probably what I should've showed you first: a possible invite.

Okay, forget the "possible" part. I already "borrowed" this idea, downloaded some fonts, and stayed up until almost midnight last night hashing out a similar design (orange rather than red, close-but-no-cigar on the fonts, and a cool black and white tree trunk background). Sorry, Magnus, your time's up -- HADMAN's in town, and he's a-takin' over.

So...think I'm nuts to put so much thought and effort into a one-year-old's party, or do you get where I'm coming from? Aside from my aesthetic-loving self, it's about celebrating the life-altering first year of the specialest little guy ever. That's all. ;-)

Memorial Day

For some, it's the unofficial start of summer. For others, it's a weekend to work outside and get pretty and/or tasty things planted, patio furniture scrubbed, and headstones scraped of their winter bombardment of bird crap. For still others, it's a day to enjoy marching bands (as a former band geek, I thank you), out-of-step firefighters and floats featuring veterans.

However we choose to celebrate the day (and its accompanying weekend; gotta love a spillover holiday!), at its core it's a day to take a moment or two...or more...to remember those brave men and women who have given the ultimate sacrifice while serving and protecting in the military. It's a somber day, really.

I'm not saying that it needs to be a downer day, and that parades aren't appropriate. After all, what's more appropriate than all that marching and having the opportunity to salute our brave vets who were lucky enough to make it through their service? Even the crazy Memorial Day (WEEKEND!) sales. America's a free market, after all, and if someone can remember service folks who passed every time they open their new fridge, then great!

But, is it just me or has Memorial Day become synonymous with Veterans Day? Both holidays hold roots in two specific memories; Memorial Day was originally Decoration Day, a day on which to decorate the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers who had fallen during the Civil War (the first recorded occurrence of women decorating graves was in Savannah, Georgia in 1862), while Veterans Day was originally observed as Armistice Day, which marked the end of the fighting of the "war to end all wars" (if only), WWI, hence celebrating the veterans of this war.

Both holidays were amended, as many in America have been (and, strangely enough, neither mentioned in Holiday Inn, even if it was still Armistice Day), and became what they are today.

Regardless of their interchangeability, they're two different (albeit wonderful) things. The thought that so many thousands (or, I assume, millions) of men in particular have lost their lives in order to protect the freedoms that we tend to take for granted or reinterpret and fight over regularly is downright humbling. It's sad that the fights have been necessary (sadder still that some of the fights weren't necessity in the slightest), sad to consider the mothers and fathers and spouses and children and siblings who endured a lifelong broken heart to have lost their sons so violently.

I like to remember the history of these two holidays for one self-serving little family history reason: my grandfather. See, I don't know a whole hell of a lot about our genealogy on my maternal grandmother's side, and I know far less about my father's whole side (there's a list of names and that's pretty much all, empty names). But, we've always heard the few stories, be they from "Grandpa Heidi" (actually, his name's Eugene, but we referred to our grandparents by their dogs' names...we're weird like that) or from our mom or just through osmosis.

We also grew up quietly observing. We spent more than a good amount of time at the Cunningham household. I'd waste hours expending my boundless childhood energy on my grandmother's stationary bike in their basement. Surrounded by an almost life-sized portrait of a grizzly man practically out of a John Wayne western (complete with dog at foot and gun at side, seemingly in a saloon), a tattered Japanese flag, several not-to-be-touched weapons, and a dough-boy helmet, it was hard not to take notice and to let the history seep in through your nose and eyes and skin. It touched us to the core.

So, as the stories go, Grandpa's grandfather served in the Civil War. It seems he lied about his age and started (around 12 or 13) as a drummer. Apparently he moved into the world of infantry along the way, and it looks as if the gore of war didn't turn him off (or his life back in New York State was so uninteresting or unpleasant that he thought it a better opportunity), because he continued in the Army during the American Indian Wars. Not something for which to be proud, particularly with the number of times his records display his wandering spirit. But, that was John Cunningham Sr., and he's a character, if not a gentleman. There's still a family legend that, while out west, he taught Bat Masterson how to play the banjo, among other "are you serious?" tales.

Great-great grandpa John wasn't the most respectable of fellows. If I've patched things together correctly (which I may not have), it seems he was something of a bigamist. My grandfather's father and brother (and any other siblings; I'm not sure how many there were) came from nothing and were apparently picked up for stealing bread on the same day and sent to orphanages. Things get hazy, but we do know that he served overseas during World War I. If not for that, my grandfather might not have lived, and my mother -- to say nothing of my siblings and I -- would not be here today.

See, Grandpa John Jr., though a kind-hearted man, wasn't the most motivated. Lacking an education (or a will to get one) and with an inclination to drink (I recently found out, however, that he was a "kind drunk"...which means something considering the violent drunk my grandmother had for a father), he, his wife, and his abundance of children were dealt a particularly difficult blow when the Great Depression struck. For all the things he's unwilling to share, Grandpa Heidi will discuss every and any detail he can recall about life during the Depression. It both scarred and strengthened him for life beyond what I thought human endurance could handle.

His mother, Clara, whom he adored and who died far too young, would make one pound of meat last for an entire week with seven plus mouths to feed. I was given what seems to be her hand-written recipe book "to watch over" (ie probably not for keeps, but I cherish it for the time being) which opens up a world of homemade "table sauce" (similar to ketchup, though she had a recipe for that, as well) and other large batch items that she would put up from their small garden patch in the village. I know from Grandpa that these weren't just for the family's foodstuff; they would go out and sell and barter for butter, eggs, and the like. Meager. The stories are almost endless, one sadder than the next.

So, how does being a WWI vet factor into it? Every couple of weeks, the family, lined up like ducks, would pull their wagon across town to receive their allotment, very often a bag of rice. My grandfather likened it to a walk of shame; all the neighbors knew where they were going, and the embarrassment and shame trickled from his father down through the children. But, the fact that Grandpa John wasn't too proud to just GET the stuff he had coming to him (today's equivalent of a form of welfare) meant that his children and wife would have full bellies for another week or more.

When Memorial Day (and Veterans Day) roll around, I consider the hearts living half broken around us today, but on a personal level my mind and heart go selfishly to those who served before who were lucky enough not to die in the heat of battle. Oh, and before my thoughts meander back to the Grandpas John, they of course land on Grandpa Heidi -- and Grandma, for that matter -- for they both served as U.S. Marines during World War II. I know little of their involvement beyond the fact that Grandpa was a radio man of some sort who were among the first to tread many of the islands in the Pacific (Iwo Jima being the most impacting), almost died of dysentery or some sort of horrid illness, and who hardly speaks of any of it; Grandma trained at Parris Island, so she was a tough, tough lady (but we already knew that), was higher-ranking than Grandpa (but that's okay because they didn't meet until after the war ended), and drove higher-ups around in jeeps...probably why she wouldn't drive post-war.

What little I know of Grandpa came from technical talk when he'd read a book and point out where he had been, or when he pulled out a file containing a newspaper clipping that he hadn't shared with anyone else that showed a neat array of local boys who had all enlisted -- and after he pointed out well over half, possibly three-quarters of them to me, said "they didn't come back" -- and also from one integral moment in my childhood.

After asking me what my social studies curriculum involved throughout my 6th grade year and hearing, as the year was heading to a close, that we had spanned world history without touching upon WWII, he apparently called my school. The following week, a visit was scheduled with numerous vets from the area (my grandfather NOT being one of them) with the 6th grade social studies classes. When one of the local gentleman stood to start a lengthy dialogue on his time during the war, he interrupted himself and abruptly asked me if I was Gene Cunningham's granddaughter. I quietly (and embarrassingly) answered that I was, and he said, "Can I just tell you -- he was the bravest sonofabitch that I encountered during all my years at war. Do you know what he had to do over there??" I gulped and shook my head (still embarrassed in front of all of my classrooms, and in shock that he swore), at which point he started to describe the job of a radio man.

I had always respected my grandfather, even if the stories he told us as kids were false and silly to hide the gruesome nature of war (he said that a bump in his hand was a bullet put there by the Japanese when he put his hand up to surrender...there was no bump, but we believed it at the time). I'm not sure I've respected anyone as much as I did, and do, both him and my grandmother (who is now gone and sorely missed). It's probably one reason that history was ultimately my favorite subject (at times tied with my music or English); I lived in the wrong era and yearned to live vicariously through those who had endured very different, very challenging, yet seemingly wholesome, simpler times. Watching those incredible WWII docs in their brutal honesty brings me to a weeping pile every damn time, to think that my kind, gentle, highly intelligent grandfather was in the thick of it and wondering what mental damage it was inflicting.

With a legacy like those set before us, how can we not strive to endure whatever hardships are placed before us? We may not be faced with war, or a fierce enemy, or even a grave social injustice (lucky us!), but the difficulties that we face deserve to be met head-on, with bravery, courage and a bit of feisty grit, if for no one but our loved ones passed.

Green Child Magazine

So, hey! I'm pretty darn excited to share with you the latest edition of Green Child Magazine. As a relatively new mom who's trying to keep life eco-friendly, I love this resource -- heck, I read it when I was pregnant (it has lots of great tips for mamas-to-be, as well). Back when I started looking to contribute my writing to different magazines and such, I saw this one and thought...well, I wouldn't even let myself truly think the words, but it was more of a feeling of "I wish I could be cool enough to write for them." (I mean, they've interviewed Mayim Bialek and Kelly Martin!!!!!!!)

Well, guess what. I'm officially cool. (In my mind. ;-)) Check out the piece on pages 25-26.

I KNOW, RIGHT?!?!

This is how it all went...

A little while back, I started writing for Kaia, another online magazine that I L-O-V-E (which also happens to be for people who want to learn tips on living greener, among other awesome topics). Well, long story short, Kaia and GCM have become sister publications. I was asked if I would mind doing some product reviews for GCM since I've got a little one to use as a guinea pig test subject ...for helping me with the trials. Green products for the baby + free + writing = one happy mama.

Let me just say that the fact that this first piece is about animals makes me ecstatic. Dave and I are such huge animal lovers, it's only appropriate that my first piece with GCM would be animal-friendly. I happened to see a list of topics for the upcoming magazine and mentioned to Amity that I'd be happy to write any of the topics (but that an animal piece would be awesome 'cuz I'm weird like that). Apparently, the piece had just fallen through so it would be a big help if I could write it. Whuh?! Write a fun piece AND help out? Sign me up!

So, that's the story of my writing for some awesome online magazines. It's fun to flex the ol' brain muscle (wait...the brain is a muscle, right? Just one?), research and write about things that interest me, and to share them with the world through some very positive, socially-responsible publications. Win-win, all around!

By the by, I also love the tips for attempting to maintain harmony among siblings (I'll need this some day!), suggestions for instilling a love for the outdoors and tons more. And, can I just say -- I'm craving an arugula salad with strawberries SO BADLY right now. (Any salad with strawberries is aces in my book.)

Oh, and if you know of anyone who might like to advertise with this publication, feel free to email us at media@greenchildmagazine.com. It's a great place to be!

Mini Revolutions

I was fully intending to celebrate Food Revolution Day last Friday in a small way -- dragging the baby to a local farmers' market, since Dave was out of town for an awesome workshop. The illnesses floating around school put a stop to that.

So, while I did do a quick grocery shopping visit (one of my Aldi/Hannaford runs), I felt like the day was a dud. I ate locally for a meeting I attended in Utica, but the food was far from healthy. At Hannaford, most of my purchases were organic, though, so I told myself that would have to be good enough, as I tried to get my nose to stop running. (Side note: I bought fiddleheads (I was ECSTATIC to find them at the store...and I think people thought I was nuts) and kale for the first time!!! Can't wait to try it.)

However, Saturday afternoon as the baby napped in my arms, I decided to hit up our Wii for some Netflix streaming. I can't even guess the last time I did this. My hope was that "Gilmore Girls" would finally be available (what else can a girl wish for with her husband out of town??), but since it wasn't, I typed "food" in the search area in hopes of finding a cooking show. Instead, I found my re-education and a way to celebrate Food Revolution Day, delayed though it may be.

A French documentary named "Food Beward: The French Organic Revolution", yes in 95% sub-titles, showed me that the organic craze isn't just a fad, and isn't just an American trend. The rise of cancers, particularly among French children, were the origins of major concerns of the state of food production in France. To take a progressive, proactive approach, a rural mayor decided to change the school menu to organic and mostly local foods.

Here's the IMDB movie description: "Food Beware begins with a visit to a small village in France, where the town's mayor has decided to make the school lunch menu organic and locally grown. It then talks to a wide variety of people with differing perspectives to find common ground - children, parents, teachers, health care workers, farmers, elected officials, scientists, researchers and the victims of illnesses themselves. Revealed in these moving and often surprising conversations are the abuses of the food industry, the competing interests of agribusiness and public health, the challenges and rewards of safe food production, and the practical, sustainable solutions that we can all take part in. Food Beware is food for thought - and a blueprint for a growing revolution."

We get to sit in on school lunches ("Organic bread tastes better." And, Philippe! Eat your damn carrots!! Sheesh.) and follow students to a garden, which their teacher uses as a learning tool, from teaching science and the enjoyment of nature to math ("use your rulers to measure the lettuces' growth" "that's impossible!") and cooperation ("Hugo gave me his parsley. Here, you can have some." Awww.), as well as the evolution of adult thinking on organic.

At one point, the mayor meets with local farmers, calling it something of an occurrence (rather than something more aggressive...a fight?) and a chance for organic farmers and more traditional farmers to discuss methods and reasons for doing what they're doing. I found this to be an interesting example of the fact that adults are able to debate an issue in a respectful manner, in addition to the fact that the information they were sharing can be directly linked to similar views in the U.S.

Overall, I was dismayed, informed, entertained, and finally uplifted by this flick. Often, the American-made docs tend to be downers (or so aggressive that it does nothing but inform and upset...and enrage...and then come the tears....), so this was an awesome reminder of our renewed reason to work on eating organically and locally -- Hadley.

Next year, I'd like to have a bigger Food Revolution Day, with the hubby in town and the baby old enough to eat, like, EVERYTHING (he's already a little foodie, I can't get him to stop trying to devour my food; don't get me wrong, I love that he loves food and I don't mind that he wants to eat off of mine (after all, I'm a mom!), but his diet is still relatively restricted at this age). So, whether it's a foodie get-together with friends or just a family visit to a farmers' market followed by a special meal, I'm looking forward to it!

No matter what it is, it's all about the mini revolutions, isn't it? The small attempts at better things on a boring ol' normal day?