The revolution, I mean.
Well, let's call it what it really is. A one person boycott.
But the boycott began innocently, and had dreams of grandeur. Just like the row boat owner who insists everyone call him Captain.
Because dreams of grandeur thrive on details. Like the detail of a name.
So the boycott insisted on being called a Revolution, minus the rolling heads bit. Unless they are heads of cabbage or lettuce.
It began normally.
Keith greeted the morning before the morning was ready to rub its eyes and crawl out of bed. Dawn was groggy, I was groggy, and Keith was bright eyed and eager to start the day. Unfortunately, for me, I am really trying to get up with my kids. I mean unfortunately Keith decided to get up so early. I am happy to get up with my kids, it is just hard when it is so early. If I don't get up with them, they find their favorite babysitter and will sit until someone forces them to turn it off, and I am the only one callus enough to ignore their protests and turn it off. I am not a fan of the electronic babysitter, so I must get up with them. Their poor spongy brains are soaking up cartoons instead of learning or filling up on creativity.
So, while it was still dark, Keith pricked my little conscious and I rolled out of bed. He took my place next to sleeping Jeffrey while I showered and got ready for the day. Since Faye was still asleep, I let Keith stay in his jammies, and together we went up and made a mess in the kitchen. We made pancakes for breakfast.
|Obviously for Keith and Faye. With a bit of the F bitten off. Classic Faye.|
I sent the kids down to get dressed, and then the day really jumped ahead full throttle. It somewhat took on a mind of its own.
Keith and Faye are in Head Start, an incredible preschool. With their preschool, the teachers make home visits to set goals with the parents, and help the parents be very involved in the learning of their children. Which I love. I strongly believe that parents are their children's first ambassadors into the world of learning, and if they don't have a firm foundation of support, their academic years will be wobbly at best.
Since Keith's teacher was coming, I enlisted the help of the kids and we did laundry and cleaned for most of the morning. I needed to get those things done anyway, and it was fun to try to come up with games to get the kids to help.
We finished in record time, had lunch, and they napped while I finished up a few things.
And this is where my little
While visiting with Keith's teacher the subject of school lunch came up again.
It is like a festering thorn, that school lunch. We seem to be fighting what is in my opinion a ridiculous fight.
I have been thinking for a while about school lunches. My sister in law used to be a school lunch cook and told me she would never allow her children to eat school lunch because it was so awful. Add those thoughts to my thoughts from last year, when I got to eat school lunch once a week with Keith, and was appalled with the flavor and quality of the food. I didn't want to eat it. I didn't want Keith to eat that sub-quality excuse for food either. He is used to fresh foods, fresh ingredients, made from scratch, with minimal if any preservatives. Because of our experiences with the food, and because of a remarkable cook book my husband gave me for Christmas last year (Cook with Jamie), the gears have been going full throttle.
I decided I want to follow the example of Jamie Oliver and start a revolution of sorts. I figure if enough mothers can start sending their children to school with sack lunches then the schools will eventually get the message. We don't want to feed our children food laden with HFCS and preservatives. We want fresh and wholesome foods for their growing and developing minds and bodies. Which is part of the reason I started my lunch blog. So I can start this school lunch
I am looking forward to preparing the lunches, just not the chaos of dealing with the administration.
At any rate, I eventually finished my lunch musings, and set about making dinner.
Jeffrey had requested something light and healthy. My speciality!
We had Roasted Zucchini sandwiches. A favorite for all of us.
Faye was really in the zone today with wanting to help. She was determined and would not be deterred. She would help with dinner, regardless of my requests to go help her grandma. I guess her grandma was telling her to go help her mom at the same time. But I was happy to have her help, although it did slow me down a bit. Little helpers in the kitchen always make me happy.
Faye makes a great helper. I loved watching her tear apart the sprouts from their box and stuff them in her mouth. When I put the box up on the counter so there would be some left for the sandwiches, she climbed up and began to sneak them. It makes me so proud and happy my children love healthy foods.
Since we had a late dinner, right after we ate, it was time for bed for the children.
Faye made us laugh a lot. While Keith was reading a story with his Paca, Faye, Jeffrey and I were in the bedroom getting ready for family prayer.
Jeffrey was leaning against the bed, and Faye was standing on it, playing with his hair. She was pretending to wash it, pretending to fix his hair, etc. Suddenly, she said "Daddy, pretend you are a slide, okay? Take off your glasses."
Jeffrey took off his glasses and Faye climbed onto his head, and slid down his chest and into my lap.
"Mommy, pretend you are a sandbox, okay? Daddy is a slide, and you are a sandbox."
We all belly laughed at that. She is such a funny girl.
She would probably be funnier if I got up with them more often in the mornings and didn't let cartoons and their grandparents watch them, though. I am working on it.
All in all, a day full of hard work is a day well spent. I am pooped. But I feel good about all I accomplished today. And even better that I finally got up enough guts to tell about my desired
boycott Revolution. Though truth be told, it still scares me. I am not a revolutionary. But when there is so obviously a need, I am the kind of person who will not sit quietly by and watch harm come to those around. And yes, though it may be bold, I do think school lunches are harming the children.
And now I step off my soapbox and into my bed. It seems this boycott is passionately determined to become a Revolution despite my hesitance. I only hope some good will come of my determination. If anything, my kids, at least, will be healthy and strong. They will have a love for good foods. And if I only help my kids, that is enough for me. Because really my kids are more important to me than your kids.
And that is how such a sweet little idea for a boycott turned into a full fledged Revolution. Innocently enough, but full of vigor and a desire to do good. With a fist raised high and ready to make some waves and noise, dragging me along behind somewhat less eagerly. Lets just hope this one turns out with fewer casualties and more victories than most revolutions.
Its time for a Revolution!
And now, if you, too, have the sweet raspy voice of John Lennon in your head, singing about Revolutions, you're welcome.