Tears streamed down the little angel's face this morning when I told her I thought I'd made a bad parenting decision yesterday by letting her wear the damn flats.

This was followed by the time-tested retort of BUT EVERYONE ELSE DOES!

I sat there, trying to seem impervious to her grief. I thought about the trials she has gone through these past fifteen days -- those trials of which I have not written but I'm sure many school-ager parents can guess but let's not discuss lest it come back to haunt my little second-grader -- the indignities she has suffered at the hands of her mother without as much complaint as I would've thought.

I thought about battles and which ones to pick.

I thought about how strongly I feel that she not dress provocatively and that flats do not offend my sensibilities at all, but the size 12.5 two-inch wedge sandals do.

I hemmed and I hawed as she sniffled and refused a hug.

Here's the thing I forgot to mention yesterday: She and I both have flat feet. I doggedly wore flats all throughout the eighties even though they made the soles of my feet cry out in pain. I let her wear flip flops on shortish trips this summer, but she wore sneaks and socks every day to summer camp, every time we went to the zoo, etc., no matter how hot it was. I don't know the science on flat feet and arch supports, but I know comfort.

And her feet are still growing.

Hem and haw.

Sniffle and whine.

I made her wear boots to school on an 80-degree day because she said they were the only thing that went with her sparkly leggings. 

IS THIS IMPORTANT?

So I cut her a deal: I would buy her insertable arch supports for the flats. Which I did, today. They don't have child-sized ones at CVS, but I'm hoping her feet are close enough to small adult size to make it work. I suppose we shall find out tonight. I told her if I could get arch supports that worked into her silly flats she could wear them on days she doesn't have PE.

When she was two, I let her wear twirly dresses every day to daycare as long as they had shorts under them. 

When she's fifteen, I may have to deal with bad nineties fashion come back to haunt us. 

I've decided to fight the biggest fashion battle for me: DRESS YOUR AGE. Dress like a little girl. While flats don't scream "seven years old" to me, I don't fundamentally object to them on that basis.

So I'm going to stick the arch supports in there and let it ride.

When Violet recently turned 6 months we embarked on the solid food journey. And it's been 10 days notable for cute firsts (first cereal! first yams! first pears!), not the least of which was testing the Béaba Babycook. While I tend to forego lots of baby gear as unnecessary, if you are interested in -- or intimidated by the prospect of -- making baby food, you must consider acquiring this amazing tool. Read on for my thoughts about the Babycook, as well as to learn how to win a Béaba Babycook and multiportion food storage unit!
First, seasoned readers will know that I am a baby food making devotee. I made all of Laurel's purees -- which, I should note, sadly backfired on me during a vacation where I tried to feed her jarred food and she refused it. Anyway, I was committed to making Laurel's baby food but it was always a project -- involving a big pot, an old fashioned steamer basket, and the big, heavy Cuisinart. And because I had to get out these big pieces, I would make and freeze a lot of purees. And a lot of mess. Especially on the occasions where I forgot I was cooking food and burnt the veggies. I still feel a little bad thinking about trying to feed Laurel carrots retrieved from the burning that looked okay, but tasted charred. You should have seen the look on her face -- and mine -- when I tasted them.

This time around we're in a different house, have a smaller freezer, and I have way less patience for more dishes (and burnt veggies). So I have fallen in love (yes, fallen in love) with the Béaba Babycook by Scandinavian Child. Perfect for absurdly easy baby food making, simply measure the water, pour it in the tank, toss your cubed produce in the steamer basket, turn on the steamer, and stop paying attention (no burnt veggies!) -- the unit will turn off when the cook cycle is done (15 minutes or less). When you're ready to blend the produce, use the included spatula to lift out the steamer basket, pour off the reserved water (or leave it in the bowl for thin purees), pour the produce from the steamer basket to the bowl, and blend. The bowl and basket are dishwasher safe and BPA free, as are the multiportion silicone freezing units, which are great for storing. I have one multiportion unit so I freeze then pop the nuggets into small labeled freezer bags.

Given that I tend to take out freezer nuggets in advance, I have yet to use the Babybook as a warmer and defroster but it's an excellent added feature for last minute food prep. However, in my opinion the ease and efficiency of the cook unit alone is worth the investment ($150 retail). In fact, the Babycook is so easy to use that just yesterday -- while I was redeeming myself prepping a batch of non-burnt carrots for Violet -- Laurel asked if she could not only be in charge of filling the multiportion freezer unit (she loves this job), but also be in charge of cooking Violet's fruits and veggies from here on in.

My life just got another step easier.

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THIS CONTEST IS NOW CLOSED
Congrats to winner Jane!
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Now, want to win a Béaba Babycook + multiportion food storage unit? Here's how:

Rules:

Hop on over to the Scandinavian Child website then leave a comment below, sharing an item you'd love to try from any of Scandinavian Child's brands.

US entrants welcome to enter.

One comment per person (please do not leave comments from multiple e-mail addresses). Anonymous or SPAM-like comments will be removed. Note that your e-mail address will not be published or shared! Leaving just your first name or first name + initial in the name field is perfectly fine.

Entry period closes at midnight EST, Sunday, October 2, 2011.

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*One lucky winner (selected using Random.org) will receive a Béaba Babycook + multiportion food storage unit (a $175 value!). Sweet!

Last week I had the pleasure of hearing Robyn O'Brien speak at a lunch hosted by Stonyfield -- coincidentally enough, on the same day my post about nine small acts that can lead to big change went live on Stonyfield's blog. Given that small acts were top of mind for me, and following O'Brien sharing that prior to her transition to organic living she was as a neon-colored-yogurt/chemical-laden-chicken-nugget-slinging mom, I asked her about her family's first food steps. She shared the following excellent advice:

1. Be OK with gradual change. O'Brien admitted that it was daunting to look in her pantry following her food industry revelations. She decided to shift gradually -- her first priority was to switch to rBGH-free dairy. She then replaced foods with artificial coloring, and followed by eliminating high fructose corn syrup from her family's diet.

2. Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. My therapist has shared this quote with me in the past (not easy for perfectionist types to stomach...) and O'Brien referenced the quote in relation to food change. The reality is that it's very difficult to control kids' food intake 100% of the time and she recommended just doing the best you can. For example, at home O'Brien's kids eat organic but she knows that at birthday parties and other events, there probably will be HFCS-laden candy and non-organics and they roll with it.

3. Move forward with a friend. I absolutely love this piece of advice, which is to find a friend to join you on the family food detoxifying journey. In my mind, it's similar to having a gym or walking buddy -- you hold each other accountable and help each other along.

I hope my 9 + Robyn's 3 tips above offer helpful fodder for small ways to implement change in your family food system. If you have other great tips, feel free to share below or over at the Stonyfield blog!

The little angel wore flats to school today.

I remember when she used to let me dress her however I wanted.

FLATS.

The neighbor girl started wearing them to school in first grade. I resisted. Today I hemmed and hawed, stewed, then chose not to fight this battle. Not when there have been other, more important battles to fight with her in the past two weeks.

I put boots and socks in her backpack in case the flats hurt her feet, then wondered if I'd made the backpack too heavy. I made sure she didn't have P.E. today.

I think it's silly and probably bad parenting to let her wear flats to school in second grade.

FLATS.

But maybe, what I'm really thinking is ...

SECOND GRADE.

I've been meaning to write about The Finger Hug for a long time, but I never get around to doing it. I talked about it recently at a Hallmark blogger event for their Moments Between the Milestones campaign. If you want to see the video, it's here.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, that's completely natural, because I made it up. ha!

I hope you all had a fantastic weekend! After waking up feeling sick after a strange night of sleep, I'm hoping to turn the Monday blahs around ASAP and wish you all a fantastic week. If you're looking for stuff to do, here are some fun event ideas for this week, spanning hands-on science experiences, exploration of things that go, the state of birthing (this one's for the grownups), puppetry, outdoor fun, and music. So much fun to be had!

Image credit: Puppet Showplace Theatre

I hope you're all having a fantastic week and are gearing up for a fun weekend. If you're looking to head out for an adventure or two, here are 11 fun weekend picks that caught my eye. Enjoy!

1. Over 60 cultural attractions offering free admission this weekend? Sweet!

2. A must-attend for jazz lovers.

3. Party on in Allston.
4. Rock out while helping kids in need.

5. Fun on the farm in Waltham.

6. Show your Watertown pride.

7. Fall fun in Marblehead.

8. I don't actually eat Fluff, but it's hard not to love the enthusiasm behind this festival.

9. Get up close and personal with raptors.

10. Inspire young authors to create stories.

11. I love David McPhail. A workshop with him this Sunday might be worth a trip northward.

Image credit: Harvard Museum of Natural History via Smithsonian magazine

I sat in an auditorium last night listening to four adults talk about learning to read ... as adults. I knew the program was going to be a combination of Literacy KC students and featured authors. I thought it would be interesting. I didn't expect that it would make me cry, would make them cry.

Christina Jones, Greg Ballard, Mona Taylor and Jim Dowler talked about why they enrolled. Greg was diagnosed with cancer and told he had a year to live, so he decided to learn to read. That was two years ago. Christina Jones watched all her kids go to college and finally gave herself permission to finish high school. Mona Taylor came here from Jamaica, learned to read and is at UMKC enrolled in pre-law now. Jim Dowler found himself functionally illiterate when he failed a test for work. He's back in the driver's seat of his semi truck.

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That all sounds nice typed out like that, doesn't it? Nice little success stories. But listening to them describe what they had gone through to get there, voices trembling, talking about how reading is power, being able to understand newspapers and contracts and signs without help is freedom, how writing is independence ...  I tried to imagine what it would be like to flounder through life never quite getting it, how terrifying and frustrating that would be to not comprehend the world around me in written form.

Christina talked about being a kid: "Now, we call it 'dyslexia.' In the fifties, they called it 'dumb.'" As I do with everything now that I've gone and become a mother, I pictured the little angel in that situation, abandoned as a reader. 

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There were authors, too. I was particularly struck by Gabriela Lemmons, the founding member of The Latino Writers Collective. Gabriela is the daughter of migrant workers with only a second-grade education. She spoke of growing up reading the side of cereal boxes as her literature, of not discovering Latino writers until college. Of the need to read something by someone who looks and sounds like you.

"Tell me whose company you keep, and I'll tell you who you are," she said. "I am among writers."

I am among writers.

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There are 225,000 functionally illiterate people in Kansas City. One in five. 

One in five people in this normal, mid-sized American city can't read a newspaper. Can't write well enough to be understood. 

What would it be like if I were one of them? If my daughter couldn't read or write? 

There is a tendancy among the degreed to think everyone has a degree. As of 2008, a mere 27% of the American population had a BA or higher. It blows my mind to think two people in the same city driving the same roads and buying coffee at the same convenience store and pumping the same gas and paying the same taxes could be either a PhD or functionally illiterate.

With the exception of Mona from Jamaica, the Literacy KC adult learners grew up in America. Went to school in America. Couldn't read.

The last author, Natasha Ria El-Scari, talked about her parents buying the World Book Encyclopedia. I remember when my parents bought their encyclopedia. I remember hearing over and over that my father had read the entire encylopedia when he was a kid. I wanted to be like that. Natasha also talked about encouraging children to write, to find their voices, to own their words. Giving ourselves permission to do the same. 

It's hard for me to imagine anyone not wanting to write, though I realize it's because I'm so hard-wired to do so. I don't really comprehend why I need to share my thoughts with the world. I've wished in the past I could not feel this way, because it seems so much easier to keep to yourself. People who don't write don't get people criticizing them all the time publicly for what they think. But on the flip side, what if I couldn't articulate my thoughts at all in writing? My sphere would be limited to who could hear my voice. I would feel tiny.

My daughter is gifted. She was chosen for her school's gifted program in first grade after a test she was flagged to take after kindergarten. I always joked when she was a baby that she was very smart, but who knew if she would actually turn out to be a good learner? It wasn't my stellar parenting, for sure. We read to her, of course, but her brain functions as it functions due to genetics that Beloved and I got from someone else upstream.

She is no more responsible for her giftedness than she would be responsible for a learning disability. But it doesn't cease to exist, either. She is responsible, in my opinion, for using that brain of hers. Responsible as those of us who write are for articulating the world around us, for questioning it, for gathering information and synthesizing it and inviting discussion about it. 

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Every day I am thankful so far school has been easy for her. I have more friends than I can count whose kids do not have this experience for one reason or another. 

I have never fully appreciated until last night how thankful I should be that she can read and write.

What her life would be like if she got spit out of the system on the other end not able to read her cable bill.

How that would impact her choices in life.

How that would impact her ability to find friends, find a mate.

How small her world would be if she could only communicate with those who could hear her voice.

I heard those four adult learners' voices last night. I heard them shake with frustration at the memory of being illiterate and pride and hope now that they aren't. Two of them learned to read in their fifties -- children raised, a life lived not being able to read the news headlines.

Right here in America. 

Mona said you can move mountains if you can read and write, that nothing can stop you. 

I wiped my eyes and drove home to find Beloved and the little angel reading in bed. I kissed her head and listened to her little voice so confident and animated reading a story about a cat. 

I will tell her later that she can move mountains because she can read and write.

I will tell her how very lucky she is.

And I will demand that she use her words.

Late last week, I wrote a post for BlogHer about the Piedmont Hills cheer squad. Their school district banned their cheerleading uniforms from class because they violated the dress code. I thought about it for a while and came up with this thesis:

I think it's fair to enforce a dress code policy unilaterally.

I think it's fair to make all athletes buy their uniforms or not buy their uniforms unilaterally.

I think it's fair to make all athletes wear their uniforms or not wear their uniforms on game day unilaterally.

The post was picked up by FOX NEWS on Monday. And it started attracting comments like these:

What I'm amazed about is the ignorance of many of the fairer sex about how the male brain works. Guys are visually oriented. Almost revealing will often cause more elongated sizing up by a male than totally revealing.

I was on a trip when a 28 year old lady in the group was wondering why the guys were stopping and staring at her. Well, duh! Se was wearing a pleated mini skirt walking down the street. Her excuse was that a part of the skirt was a pair of attached shorts. She said if the guys have an issue, it's their problem. I suppose she also thinks that if she were sitting on a guy's lap and rubbing his leg, it would be his problem if he became aroused.

Oh, then there was this:

What's up with that hate? The foot ball players DO wear their unpadded jeresys to school. Why you act like somehow there is this high school conspiriacy against WOMEN, and its all BOYS fault? Because you didn't mention anything about the gymnastics girls, or the dancing girls, you said nothing about the flag girls, all you said was "Cheerleaders" and then singled out the boys as being favored. Your blog sounds exactly like a high schooler. Then end it that you are all for equality. How perverse.

And this:

Because you were a cheerleader. Its not like cheerleaders are known for paying attention to what others are wearing. And who oppressed you to be a cheerleader anyway? Its not like you didn't have a choice to be something else if you hated it so much.

The conversation is veering around a lot, but the comments are really interesting, aside from the above, which, just, whatever. And it's totally solidified my belief that we need to get uniforms out of school, period. There are some uniforms that really shouldn't be worn to class (wrestling singlets, swimwear, gymnastics leotards, track shorts, cheerleading skirts), and if you can't have everyone wear their uniform, then no one should.

Would love your thoughts but closing comments because I'd like to keep them on BlogHer so everyone can see everything together. It gets confusing when they are in two places.

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In completely other news, I finally reviewed Good Enough Is the New Perfect by Becky Beaupre Gillespie and Holly Schwartz Temple over on Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews!