• as much Vitamin C as cup of blueberries
• as much iron as a cup of spinach
• as much calcium and Vitamin D as a glass of milk
• as much Vitamin A as an 8 ounce glass of tomato juice
• as much fiber as a bowl of oatmeal
• as much Vitamin E as two glasses of carrot juice
• as much Vitamin B-12 as a cup of cottage cheese and fruit

I got a ton of comments. I still get a ton of comments. They go from calling me a stupid hippie to saying that the cookies are evil and I’m awesome for pointing out how much they suck. I never like to respond to people who call me, and I quote, “annoying” and “crazy” and “a food Nazi.” (While I will approve 99 percent of comments, I don’t feel the need to post every nasty comment that comes in, especially those laced with epithets.) However, the fact that I seem to get at least one of these comments a day, I will explain in a little more detail why I don’t like these cookies. I will use an example out of our food history.

Remember when low fat food came out? And people gobbled up low fat or no fat snacks and drinks? Remember when those people started gaining weight? Well, that’s sort of how I see these cookies. Parents tell their kids that they are eating “healthy” cookies and then kids think that cookies are somehow good for them. They get the wrong message.

My kids absolutely, 100 percent eat cookies. We especially love Whole Foods 365 Organic animal crackers. We like these caramel cookies we buy at Trader Joe’s. They love homemade oatmeal raisin cookies that my mother makes. They like cookies. That said, they know, as Elmo once said, that cookies are “sometimes” foods. That there is nothing inherently “bad” about cookies, but that they are not providing that many of good things that their bodies needs. They taste good, though. And that’s what they should think. Cookies taste good and are okay to eat in moderation. They know they get their Vitamin C from blueberries and oranges, iron from spinach, and calcium from cheese and yogurt and milk. The way nature intended it. So no, I am not a fan of WhoNu cookies. Understand? Good.

• About 10 percent of the juices that CR sampled (from five brands) showed arsenic levels that “exceeded federal drinking-water standards. Most of that arsenic was inorganic arsenic, a known carcinogen.”
• 25 percent of samples had lead levels “higher than the FDA’s bottled-water limit of 5 ppb. As with arsenic, no federal limit exists for lead in juice.”
• We’re getting a large portion of our arsenic exposure from apple and grape juice. CR called the juices, “a significant source of dietary exposure to arsenic,” according to its analysis of federal health data from 2003 through 2008.
• Kids are drinking a heck of a lot of juice. According to a CR parents poll, 25 percent of kids under five drink more juice than their pediatricians recommend.

Consumer Reports says the source of the arsenic and lead is contaminated apple orchards. Soil is contaminated due to a number of reasons, For example, arsenic-based pesticides that were used in the past are still hanging around. Plus, there’s plenty of arsenic and lead in the environment from things like the production of pressure-treated wood.  Even more significant, I think, (and something the CR article points out, too) is the fact that much of our apple juice is made from concentrate that comes from China, a country that still uses arsenic-based pesticides.

I have always had a few rules about juice. First, anything my kids drank had to be 100 percent juice — no high fructose, sugar-added junk for us. Second, it had to be organic. Finally, juice was an occasional thing. We drink it sparingly at playdates, at mommy-and-me classes, and always watered it down in a 2-to-1 ratio of water to juice.

These rules, I assumed, would keep my girls healthier. We would avoid pesticides and reduce our risk of obesity. After all, juice is way better than the other options out there — aside from water, of course. Two separate 2010 studies out of Louisiana State University Agricultural Center and Baylor College of Medicine seemed to support my theory.

One study found that children between the ages of two and five who drank 100 percent fruit juice had “significantly” higher daily intakes of vitamin C, potassium, and magnesium and “significantly lower intakes of added sugars compared to non-fruit juice consumers.” Juice drinkers, for some reason, also ate more whole fruits and whole grains. The other study — of children ages six to 12 — had similar results. Kids who drank juice took in more key nutrients and ate more dietary fiber, according to the study. In addition, “overall diet quality, as assessed by the Healthy Eating Index — a measure that evaluates conformance to federal dietary guidance — was higher in all fruit juice consumers assessed.”

Great. Juice is good for adults, too, as studies have found that it can reduce the risk of some cancers and is beneficial to cardiovascular health. Except, of course, when the juice contains carcinogens. So what’s a parent to do? I plan on sticking to water or orange juice for a while, or limiting my purchases to apple and grape juices that are organic and clearly marked, “Made in the U.S.A.” How about you?

The whos, hows, and whys don’t matter. What matters is my thought process. In one case someone, in my opinion, was clearly goading me to fight. Rather than getting caught up in the drama, I consciously decided to do the opposite of what it seemed like the person seemed to want me to do. You know what? The encounter ended really well. I walked away feeling good about myself. No malice or anger in my heart. I was relaxed and happy because, by choosing not to right a perceived wrong, everything went well. And the other person started behaving better, too.

The second experience had to do with someone asking for advice. An acquaintance asked a question in a group. Many of the group members gave what I consider bad advice. Advice that flew in the face of what I would have said. Again, I thought it through and realized the person asking for advice didn’t really want advice. She wanted validation of what she was already doing. I opted out of giving my own advice, staying silent. Again, I avoided a confrontation. No one got hurt. It was a wonderful thing.

The third experience was an encounter with an employee of a public organization. (I’ll give a few more details since she is unlikely to ever read or see herself in this post.) She was nasty and unkind to me and my kids. Instead of saying something to her about her behavior, I walked away. It’s not like she was calling names or anything. Her demeanor and tone were sharp and she was dismissive when Big Girl asked her a question. (Just an aside: My Big Girl said please and thank you anyway even though she didn’t get an answer.) In that case, after walking away for a moment, I decided to go back to her desk, smile, and make small talk. After a minute or two of chatting, the woman got up on her own and went to get the answer we were looking for without me having to ask again. Her exact words when I told her not to go through so much trouble: “It’s no trouble. It’s a slow night and I’d be happy to help.” Score another one for kindness.

I don’t know where this new wisdom is coming from. I wish I had it in me years ago, however, because I am loving the end results. Oh, if I had the self-control and insight even a year ago to swallow my pride and my opinions life might be a little different over this way. The strange thing is I’ve been following the keep-my-mouth shut mission forever when it comes to work. I’ve always believed in putting out a “customer is always right” vibe even when I know in my heart they are wrong — or behaving badly.

Anyway, I’m including this on the blog because I think part of natural-as-possible parenting is being willing to keep learning and growing. I’m trying every single day, although I know I falter every once in a while. That said, would love to hear about how you handle conflict. Sometimes the best way to learn is to follow someone’s (better) example, right?

I used to feel really guilty about that, but now that I’ve discovered that kids really don’t want that much, it’s not so bad. For example, I recently got rid of what seemed like a ton of stuffed animals, board games, and puzzles. (Okay, it was only three large bags, but still…) The kids did not even notice they were gone.

Of course, I’m pretty careful when I’m doing my weekly thrift store donation analysis. Before I toss anything I run it through a checklist:

1. Do either of the kids have any emotional attachment to this item?
2. When was the last time they wore it/played with it?
3. Do I know someone who would get use out of it?

The answers help me figure out whether to keep something or toss it. When it comes to emotional attachments, well, my decisions are much easier for Big Girl’s stuff than with Little Girl’s stuff. My little one latches on to stuff in a way that her sister never did. Case in point: Her bed. Right now there are about a dozen assorted animals that sleep with her every night. She knows EXACTLY who should be in there and complains bitterly if they are missing. This, I think, is the most important part of the check list. If there’s no emotional attachment, the decision is really a no-brainer.

Still, I am not an ogre. Just because someone doesn’t swoon over an item doesn’t mean it’s not worth something, so that’s where the time element comes in. My rule of thumb is simple: If it’s been more than a month or two since they played with something I can probably safely squirrel it out of the house. I figure if they haven’t looked for it, they probably aren’t going to.

I use the same lenses when I am pillaging my own closets. Sometimes, I cut too deeply and regret it (WHY did I get rid of those great thigh-high white boots?!?), but for the most part my excavation works really well. How about you? Do you sort and toss often? Once a year? How does that work for you?

Still hurting and sad, I found myself wanting to leave the class, but after much inner discussion and debate, I decided that I was being silly. I can’t spend the rest of my life running away from pregnant people, I thought. I had to stay, especially after the teacher went out of the way to ask why I looked so pale and gaunt, and I specifically made a big deal about how careful I was going to be. (Yes, I told her since I didn’t want her to be wondering why I might take it a little easy. I am usually a crazy yogini.)

I unfurled my mat one row forward and two rows to the right of the pregnant woman. She was out of my view unless we went upside down. I could do this, I thought. As the class progressed, I couldn’t shake the sadness, though, even as I moved and breathed and felt my muscles releasing. It got so bad that every once and a while I had to fight off tears, but I was always able to push it down and resist the urge to leave. (It helped that I made sure I kept my eyes shut every time I went into downward facing dog so I wouldn’t have to see a pregnant belly staring me in the face.)

Even though it felt wonderful to stretch and breathe, I struggled physically, too. My body isn’t fully recovered, and I felt out of breath and dizzy once in a while. I even had to stop a few times and sit in child’s pose. Once, I almost tumbled out of Warrior 2 because I lost my balance completely. Still, I endured. I didn’t want to interrupt the class, and yoga is usually my favorite antidepressant — one of the things that brings me peace and serenity. I guess that’s why I felt relief when the asanas came to an end and we sat down for shavasana.

Usually, I just feel peace when the class ends. Shavasana is pretty awesome. It’s the relaxing, restorative time where we lie on the floor in corpse pose and just relax. Occasionally, we get “picked” by the teacher for a little extra attention, which means a spritz of lavender oil and a stretch of the shoulders. Not a bad way to end a wonderful hour. On Sunday, I guess the teacher felt like I needed a little extra love so I not only got the lavender and shoulder stretch, I also got a massage of my temples, head, and forehead.

Usually, I love getting picked. Not Sunday, though. As soon as the teacher placed her hands on my forehead, my eyes welled up. I couldn’t stop it from happening. I started sobbing soundlessly. “She feels sorry for me,” I thought, although the reality is *I* felt sorry for me. Thankfully, the teacher soon moved on to the next student, and I was able to lie there trying to control myself. I stopped crying by the time we sat up, and — after chanting a mantra to close our practice (Om bolo shri, sat guru bhagavan ki…) –  was the first one up and out the door, big sunglasses covering my red eyes. (Unfortunately, there aren’t glasses big enough to cover the blotchy mess that I had going on all over my face and nose.)

It’s so strange to me. This is not my first miscarriage. Sure, I was sad when I miscarried between Big Girl and Little Girl, but I moved on quickly. I’m not sure if it’s because I was so busy back then tending to a 20-month-old or because my support system was so huge (we were doing almost daily playdates back then), or if I just knew that I was going to get pregnant again at some time in the future, but I dealt with that loss and put it behind me. This loss is just kicking my ass.

Anyway, I am sure you are as sick of reading about my crying as I am actually doing the crying, so I will try and switch gears back to the healthy and natural stuff asap. I just had to put fingers to keyboard to write this out. Thanks for listening. Come back tomorrow to read about National Costume Swap Day. I promise that post will be interesting, funny, and eco-minded.

“My sister is stacking chairs to try and steal blanka off your dresser.”

“She has something in her hands and she won’t show me what it is.”

THUNK. “Awww, are you okay? MOM!!!”

CRASH. “Mama, I was tryin’ to get this open and it just fell.”

My weekend with the kids. Or should I say my weekend with Little Girl. That child could make a nun swear. (And then tell said nun that she needs pepper put into her mouth.)

Here’s the cheat sheet to the above exclamations, in order of appearance:

1. Yes, she flooded my bathroom. It was a good excuse to clean it.
2. I was in my bathroom with the door open. She was five feet away. My take-away: She’s really sneaky, and has amazing problem-solving skills. She was sad that I caught her! She got a time out for her sneakiness.
3. It was a jawbreaker candy from her sister’s room. We pried it out of her grubby little hand. She got another time out for that one.
4. She fell off her sister’s bed. (And I am not sure that her sister didn’t help her along.) Yes, she was okay.
5. She broke a small glass while trying to rip open a bag of crackers. I was standing two feet away. I cleaned it up and, since it held orange juice, had an excuse to clean the kitchen floor, too.

And to answer your final question: Yes, I watch my children. All the time, actually. That little one is just really, really fast. Really fast.

Hope you are having a good weekend.

Okay, so whatever. But now, as I sit here planning the menu for my own playdate, I am nervously wondering if they will all hate me because I refuse to put out kid food. Or at least dread having to figure out what to feed their kids at my house. Usually, I’ll just order the one “kid” food I can stomach, which is pizza. (Little Girl likes pizza, but would rather spoon hummus out of the container.) Still, there are no nuggets anywhere. There’s a reason for that. Research keeps proving that kids will eat whatever you put out for them.

A December 2010 study — Mothers’ Diets Have Biggest Influence on Children Eating Healthy — out of Michigan State University’s College of Nursing found that “toddlers were less likely to consume fruits and vegetables four or more times a week if their mothers did not consume that amount or if their mothers viewed their children as picky eaters.”

So by putting out what I view as unhealthy stuff just because kids are picky eaters, I’m sending Little Girl a message: Kids should eat kid food. Not something that I believe. Still, I stress over it. I like to be the hostess with the mostess. I like my guest to be happy. I guess I’ll just have to hope they can be happy without fried food.

While we were there we made a pit stop to the doll hospital. Sally-O, our well-loved, much played with Bitty Baby was in dire need of servicing. As I mentioned in a February post (complete with a photo), Bitty Baby’s right eye often stayed closed. Her hair was a wreck. Her right cheek had a pen stain. She looked like a doll that had been hugged a lot.

The woman behind the counter was very nice. She did a checkup. Everything was fixable, she told us. She checked her price list and gave me the damage for the damage. It would cost x price for a new eye and a quick cleanup, which would do nothing for the ink stain or the cut hair. (Although the hair would be brushed and made pretty again.) For an extra $5 they would give Sally-O a brand new head. It would be like getting a new doll.

I went back and forth about it until I decided that yes, I’d go for it. I’d change out the head. Little Girl helped me take off all Sally-O’s clothing and put her into a hospital gown. Then we handed her over to the “doctor” who told us Sally-O would come home in about two to four weeks via U.S. Postal Service complete with a new head, a hospital gown, and a cap. Little Girl was understandably upset when we told her the doll would be staying behind. At first she told us no, but we finally convinced her, although she did ask to give her sister’s doll another hug. (We had to pry it out of her arms after the hug…) She stopped crying when the nice woman at the counter assured us that she would take good care of the doll.

The bargain hunter inside of me loved what we did. A brand new doll for half the price of a new one? Plus, we were recycling? How awesome is that? Except…the mom in me was dying inside. Sally-O has been such an integral part of our life. Big Girl has taken her everywhere since she we got her almost four years ago. Sally-O has been to playdates and parties and to Disney World. She’s been to Woodloch Pines at New Year’s. She’s been on long car trips, and to both of her “great” grandmas’ homes. She’s sat with us at dinner, and slept with Big Girl at night. She’s been a part of the family. And now she’s gone forever. As much as it’s true that the Sally-O that’s coming back to us in the mail will look the same, she will be a new doll. All the reminders — yes, even the cut hair and the stain left by the drive-by magic marker attack — will be gone. I wonder if I did the right thing.

I have a Free Moving Barbie doll. She looks a lot like Sally-O did. Her hair is trashed — knotted and gross, to be honest. She’s got some marker on her feet. One of her arms is a little loose. And yet I am so happy I have her, a reminder of the marathon Barbie sessions I had with my sister. We’d set up my brother’s train table as our Barbie world. A shoebox was a TV stand. We had a plastic pool, the Barbie van, an outdoor camping set. We spent hours and hours in that basement, and looking at that Barbie brings it all back for me. Have I, by freshening up Sally-O, taken away a piece of Big Girl’s childhood? Will she regret the loss of her constant companion? Was I simply too cheap to buy the little one her own Bitty Baby Doll? I’m not 100 percent sure, but I think I’m going to make a phone call this morning. Who needs a new head when a new eye that opens and closes might suffice?

What was your favorite childhood toy? Do you still have it? Would love to hear about it.

“…natural granola bars, Lara bars (sweet and chewy with no sweeteners), Trio bars (3 seeds, 3 nuts, 3 fruits), organic whole-grain cereal bars, organic fruit strips, raisins, peanuts, almonds, pretzels, all-natural animal crackers, Smartfood popcorn, pretzels, dried organic apples, V-8 juice, 100% juice [offerings], spring water, organic chocolate milk, natural potato and corn chips.”

But that’s about to change because we’re about to make a huge change. A massive, scary change. My husband, who thinks that social success is just as important as academic success, is pushing for public school. Actually, his exact words were, “do what you want,” but he has made it clear that he thinks Big Girl’s old school, which only has ten kids — she would be number 11 — enrolled in second grade, isn’t the right choice for her. I am on the fence, but really do agree that she should be able to have playdates. And since the kids at the other school all live 20 to 30 minutes away — and the public school superintendent PROMISED us that Big Girl is going to get lots and lots of enrichment — I’m leaning toward giving public school a shot. This means her access to food is going to change, too. It’s going to be a difficult adjustment for her. I’ll explain…

Big Girl has been going to camp at our local elementary school this summer. Every day I packed a lunch. When she got home she often left her favorite organic bars, cookies, and raisins in the box. She ate her sandwich and that was it. Wasn’t she hungry, I asked. No, she told me, she just didn’t feel like eating it at camp. What did the other kids have, I wanted to know. “Well, Mommy, they eat stuff that I don’t really like,” she told me. “They like Fritos and corn chips and packaged foods.” (And I can’t help it. I laughed when she told me “packaged foods.”) And then she told me how nervous she was: “The other kids don’t eat the things that we eat. What if when I go to school in September I am the only one not eating junky foods? I don’t LIKE junky foods!” And then the tears came. Sigh.

I tried telling her that there must be other kids who eat healthier options. I also tried to tell her that no one was going to force her to eat something she didn’t like. There would be no one holding her down in the lunch room shoving Cheez Doodles down her throat. (“Mommy, all the kids eat those puffy cheese things, but I don’t care for them, either!”) But she’s still really, really nervous. And she obviously doesn’t want people seeing her eating what she likes.

And so here I am counting down the days until school starts. Am I making the right decision? Does it make sense to leave a child at a school that supports my ideology and morals — that also happens to be on the same page as I am with food — even if it means she’ll be missing out on playdates? Do I put her into the public school for a month or two to see how it goes? It’s going to be a long 18 days…

This post is how I am participating this week in Food Renegade’s Fight Back Friday — an awesome campaign to get people eating real food again.

BookSwim. Last week I bought The Red Tent. It was our book club selection. I wanted to take it out of the library or nab it on BookMooch, but after waiting patiently I finally gave up. Wish I would have known about BookSwim before I made my purchase. The service, which charges you between $9.95 and $59.95 per month depending on how many books you want to borrow per month, will mail books directly to you and take them back when you’re done.

Safety Assessments for playgrounds. How safe is your school’s playground? How about the one at your park? The University of Alabama at Birmingham has created playground safety checklists that can be downloaded here. (Click on Supporting Documents at the bottom of the page.) A wonderful free resource for any parent or grandparent.

Child Online Safety Guide. With accounts of cyberbullying and cyberstalking making the news all the time I decided I would pass along this resource, which a PR person passed along to me. Good list of dos and don’ts related to online safety for kids. (I plan on using it next year as the basis for a a Girl Scout Brownie Try-it patch.)

Open Center Online Learning. The New York Open Center is a holistic learning center located in — where else?– New York. So if you want to attend one of the more than 500 programs it runs you need to come this way. Until now. This month the Center launched an online repository of downloadable podcasts that include subjects like Reiki, meditation, reflexology, Feng Shui and Chinese Medicine, among other topics. Some are free; others require payment. (I’m planning on downloading some to my iPod the next time I have to go into the city.)

That’s it for now. Hope everyone has a good weekend. I plan on blogging over the weekend since I am starting WordCount’s Blogathon 2010, which requires daily blogging from May 1 to May 31. Not sure how coherent my weekend posts will be — my weekends are crazy with more events and chores than time to do them — but we’ll see! Hope you’ll stop by to check it out.