This post is pure mama. Not much green but lots of mom. So for those of you logging on for the eco-twist, sorry to disappoint but I have pure mom thoughts today.

Was just out of town in Nashville for a convention. A car full of fabulous friends and I headed 8 hours South to Tennessee.

Woot woot. 4,000 other moms were there too. Good times this getting out of the house as a mom thing. I honestly never thought I would find myself in a life stage where it was this big of a deal to leave home. 

In my teens and early 20’s I used to hear people like me, moms, lament the fact that they never saw movies, never listened to good music anymore, or never left home for a weekend away. I used to think they had a screw loose. “What sort of life is that?” I would say to myself. “Surely it cannot be that difficult to just hop out for a movie, even if you do have kids.”

And then of course, as we all know, one day you are hit by the avalanche of life that is kids and you find yourself tumbling into a world of sippy cups and nursing bras that you never knew existed. “Aha!” you say. “Now I get what they were talking about!”

Now I love my avalanche (also known as my three children). And I would rather be buried up to my eyeballs in the snow with them than just about anyplace in the world. But no matter how much we love our kids, almost every mama just needs her time away. And my time had come.

I had my time this weekend. A convention and four good friends doing everything from pouring out our souls to line dancing in Elvis’ backyard. I think I might like Nashville. 

And I slept in and sipped coffee uninterrupted. I was able to shower without someone bursting in to ask me if I knew where Captain Rex and the other Clone Troopers were. I was able to get dressed without someone hiding in my closet. I was able to have a meal that lasted longer than 10 minutes. I even got dressed up one night. A far cry from my usual hoodie and yoga pants.

And I will be honest and tell you that I did miss my kids, but not as much as I think I should have. And I felt guilty about that. Isn’t this just like motherhood? I already feel guilty about everything. Feel like I am not reading with them enough, praying with them enough, playing with them enough, talking with them enough. And then I dare to get away from these feelings for a weekend and I feel bad that I am not having these feelings!

And yes, like a sap, whenever I saw another child I cooed on the inside but really, I just enjoyed myself. 

Until I was about 20 minutes from home. Then I could not get there fast enough. It was past bedtime but not by much. I raced as fast as I could. My little mama heart started beating like crazy and I just kept thinking about squishing the chubby little cheeks of my 22 month old. Kept hoping my 6 year old was still up for a good hug and that my 3 year old would crack a joke for me.

No luck. They were already sleeping when I got home. So of course I had to sneak into the baby’s room and wake her up for a hug. It was out of my control. My arms desperately needed to pick up that little life and hug it to bits. She was all warm and disoriented by soft sleep. Her face with little lines from her blanket. She looked at me all sleepily and sort of smiley but mostly just confused.

So swooped her up and hugged her in an instant. She settled into my chest for a moment. “Ahhhhh, home at last” I sighed.

Then she got all cranky on me. I can’t blame her. Not sure how I would feel if I was fast asleep and then suddenly scooped up out of my covers by an over-eager woman who smelled like a road trip. 

She fussed, whined, reached for my husband. 

Suddenly, I was over it.

I was home.

I was mom again.

People were crying.

My three year old then came toddling out asking for crackers.

I gave him three.

He wanted more.

The baby kept crying.

I started shushing everyone. 

It took me all of three minutes to reclaim my shushy mom voice.

My blood pressure started to rise.

“Why did I go and wake her up?” 

“What is wrong with me anyway?”

Better fall asleep so mommy can unpack and start the laundry.

Home at last.

Put the cowboy boots back in the closet. Put the sweatpants back on. Start the laundry.

Home at last.

And honestly, would not trade it for the world. Would not trade it at all.

Tis the season for good family doctor fun. Flu shots, back to school immunizations to catch up on, and the ever present panic about this H1N1 thing. Are there going to be enough vaccinations to go around? If so, do we dare all get one because it has not been out long enough to really test right?  Obama said he would get one, so do we?

And then Jenny McCarthy pops into my head with her campaign to help understand Autism and some people link vaccinations to Autism. I am panicky about this today because our doctor’s office noticed a fluke in our charts. Our middle son, our crazy, overly-chatty 3 year old. They noticed that he did not receive one of the three Hepatitis B shots he should have had already at his age.

So of course they called us to come on in and catch up.

Panic. Did they give it to him and just forget to jot it down? Did I screw up? “Just swing in and we will catch him up” the doctor’s office says. But me, I am left in a tizzie, what happens if he already had it and gets it again? Can you OD on a Hepatitis B vaccination?

And what if I skip it? Then I need to offer all sorts of reasons why just to go to school, and then what if he actually gets Hepatitis B someday. I would never forgive myself. Ah the things we panic about as parents.

And then of course, there is the actual event of getting the shot. You would think someone locked us all in a cage with a Mountain Dew and a bunch of squirrels and chickens. People jumping from one seat to the other, panicking, looking at the nurse, my oldest freaking out and crying, the three year old backing into a corner shaking his head and shouting “no, no, no!”

The baby looks at the boys and just starts crying because it seems to be the thing to do.

The nurse looking at me and my husband “which one goes first?”

To them it may as well be someone asking which of them wants to bungee jump of skydive first. No one wants to go first.

At least my husband was there the last time we did this shot thing. We were both sweating and pinning people down and the nurse was all armed with the shots and she was kind enough to wait for us to try to settle things down a bit. But in my mind, I am thinking “just start poking people. Go! Go! Go!”

There was a time I took my kids for shots and my husband was not with me. They literally had to call for backup. The nurse took one look at everyone, and at my feeble attempts to hold the first child in place, and she said “I am going to get another nurse for backup.” 

We are the family that needs backup.

And I know we are not alone. Down the hall you hear the same shrieks and wails. Then you open the door and see everyone shaking it all off as they head down the hall with Snoopy bandages. On occasion you get a Handy Manny sticker too. Big stuff.

And if you are a parent who has decided to immunize your children, you know this drill well. You probably have your trusty way to hold their arms while they get the injection. Or you have a story like one of my good friends, whose son went scurrying to hide under one of the exam tables.

When I sit in the doctor’s office and listen to the cries and the shrieks. It is a strange thing because, for the most part, they are all the good sorts of cries and moans, the ones that help you know good things are coming along. It’s a little pinch of pain for a lot of healthy gain.

And as I wince and wonder “should I vaccinate or not,” I also am reminded that I am phenomenally blessed to even get to make that decision. As healthcare debates swirl in this country. As millions upon millions of children around the world do not even have a clean bed to lay in let alone a Hepatitis B shot. That I get to take my kids to a physician whose office is on the ball enough to catch a missed shot, when there are millions of orphaned children in this world who live on the streets and do not even know their own birth date, or even their mom’s name, is amazing to me.

So, as they saying goes, “take your best shot.” Sign me up to be healthy and safe. And sign me up to be the sort of person who remembers what a blessing this little pinch really is. To remember a doctor’s appointment is a tremendous, phenomenally tremendous gift. And I hope I can be the sort of mom who helps catching up on these missed shots possible for other children. Whether it is supporting organizations or legislation that makes this possible here in the US. Or sponsoring children and programs to alleviate poverty worldwide.

Every kid deserves a healthy shot!

Nowadays if you slap the word “green” across any event, industry, or article of clothing it is rumored this will boost sales and recognition. As a nation always in hot pursuit of the latest trend, we’ve managed to make ourselves feel good by recycling, repurposing a few items, and maybe buying a hemp handbag or backpack. Sales of many “green” products are up in spite of a down economy. Current market research trends reveal that the average American plans to increase spending on “earth-friendly” items and food products this year. Books on environmental issues are said to be one of the few bright spots in publishing these days (according to Publisher’s Weekly).

So we haul our recycling to the curb, slap a few free-range chicken breasts on the grill, and sit back feeling rather ecologically accomplished.

And of course, most of us are aware of the looming ecological crisis that hovers over us like the black cloud that followed Gargamel on the Smurfs. It’s ever present but we sort of forget about it off until it starts to rain down on us. Most of the time we are happy to wallow in our do-gooder intentions.

I’ve spent a lot of time agonizing lately over where this green trend ends and actual progress begins. Where do the trendy fetishes of green consumers actually become planet-preserving advances? And will this ever happen?

My husband and I were sitting in the kitchen last week and as we were chatting with one another he looked over at the mounting pile of alkaline batteries on our counter. “What are you going to do with those?” He politely asked. I offered my typical response “oh, you know, recycle them next time I am out.” 

To which he replied “you know battery recycling is a complete joke don’t you?”

Normally, I would bristle at a statement like this. But lately I have been musing over thoughts like these. There are places all over town that collect batteries. This past August I was involved in an event that collected hundreds of pounds of household batteries to be recycled. And yes, there are places that do take them and ship them off to facilities that pull chemicals out and reuse some of the metals and make it all nice and pretty.

But what I found was also astonishing. And I won’t unpack it all here, you can see the tip of the debate here 

http://www.helium.com/debates/116269-batteries-toss-out-or-recycle/side_by_side

http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/2346/is-recycling-worth-it

Basically, our good intentions often end up unintentionally thwarted due to the fact that everything is not as neat and tidy as we think when it comes to recycling.

Take for example batteries that, when polled, many drop off sites confess to simply tossing in the trash (same with those plastic bags at the grocery store). Or take for example that should you try to do your recycling duty and rinse every last drop of yogurt out of that plastic container, that you are actually wasting more water to wash it than recycling it is worth.

Then there is the simple fact that if you buy a new green gadget, even if it claims to be earth-friendly, you still had to buy something NEW. Which means packaging, shipping, marketing, energy. If you just used the dish, lunch bag, or laptop carrying case you already had, no extra waste would have been generated.

Now I know this all seems a little dismal from a gal who blogs under the moniker “Green Mama,” but one of the greenest things we can do is to be sensible, thoughtful, and practical about everything we do. And most of the time, this means doing a lot less of it (shopping, driving, consuming).

Whipping batteries into recycling bins and hoping for the best as we dash off to buy another alkaline powered gadget is not the most thoughtful move. Most of us already know this. Finding a good use for what we already have rather than racing out for a green product is truly greener than anything else we might do.

Making wise moves to stop the buying and selling, shipping and fueling of goods is where we need to make the sorts of changes that go beyond the battery. I will not need to placate myself with the number of yogurt containers I recycled if I can do the bigger things that matter, like limiting my consumption, advocating for lower emissions in my community, neighborhood, church, house.

And yes, all the little things add up big. And yes, we should still recycle those containers and batteries when it makes sense (after researching drop-off sites that actually get them to the right place), but this whole green thing, to make a difference that matters, should be about the bigger global issues rather than the trendy t-shirts.

It’s easy to get caught up in the latter. I know. I confess I’ve been there. If we’re honest, most of us have. So let’s start looking together at what it will really take to pull off preserving Creation as well as recycling those batteries.

It’s Fall. Finally. Almost officially. Leaves dropping from trees colorfully, wonderfully, Fall.

My favorite time of year. Even though the back to school thing makes me panicky. Even though, as a Midwestern girl, I know this season signals the fact that I am about to be sequestered for three months come December. Even though soon it will be dark at 5:00 and there will be snow pants and boots to contend with.

But for now, it is 70 degrees and sunny. It is simply delicious outside.

Today, albeit a little early, we made our first foray to the pumpkin patch. No crowds, lots of colorful mums, and piles of gourds all set out nice for kids to climb all over. There are lots of these little pumpkin patches spread throughout the Chicago suburbs. Most are in the outer edge burbs. The ones that were farms less than 20 years ago. The ones gobbled up by track housing in the 80’s, 90’s and early 00’s. 

Most are surrounded by these track homes and strip malls. You cruise along and pass a Pet’s Mart and then all of a sudden, voila! You have a pumpkin patch on what is one of the few remaining farms in the area.

Really, it is no longer a farm. Maybe they grow the pumpkins or mums there, but mostly the business is hayrides, corn mazes, and haunted houses for September and October. Gold mines these places are. It cost us a hefty $30 just to get in today, and that did not include the pumpkins or the lollipops I got tricked into at the end.

So today, my mom and kids and I hit the pumpkin farm. We fed the goats and chickens and jumped around in the bouncy house. Then my daughter got out of the bouncy house and just sort of froze for a moment. Mom’s know the sort of moment I mean, the one that signals the filling of a diaper.

Well, let’s just say that she indeed filled that diaper and her jeans as well. Soaking wet she was. ugh. And she is my third child, which means I no longer give a rip about carrying around extra clothes for these moments. With my first, I carried around two sets of clothing, extra socks, sunblock and a baseball hat at all times. I had extra sippy cups and extra snacks. The stroller was clean. The diaper bag was neat and tidy.

Now, we carry only what we need. Our stroller has three wheels that work and one that decided to bail. Our sippy cups have been chewed to bits like a dog drank out of them. The snacks are normally devoured on the way to wherever we are headed. And I’m about as cavalier and careless as they get when it comes to spare clothing. “nahhh, she won’t have an accident” I tell myself.

Well, she did. So we spent the last hour at the farm walking around without her pants on. Just a diaper, sparkly converse all-stars, and a pink t-shirt. Only at 22 months can you walk around with the chubbiest of thighs and no pants and not give a rip what other people think of your dimples.

So here’s the point (although I know this is one of those rambling posts where my point can seem  a long time coming).

We were hot and thirsty. We wanted water. We had sucked every inch or water out of our sippy cups and reusable bottles that we brought with us. I asked the cashier at “the farm” where I might fill them up at. She politely told me that she could not fill them for us but that she could sell us a few bottles at $1.50 a piece.

There were 5 of us. All thirsty. $7.50! “No thank you I said.”

“I would just like to use a water fountain or a sink to fill them up.”

“Oh, she told me, well, I cannot do that for you. You see, this is a farm and we don’t have any water here.”

Never mind the fact that there was a subdivision across the street and a grocery store on the corner and that the “farm” included a gift shop, bakery, candy store, and snack shack serving hot cuisine. There were also easily over a dozen people on staff there that day. All I wanted was a drink of water and I had the distinct feeling she was not being honest with me.

“Surely you have water somewhere here” I said.

“Yes, for $1.50 per bottle” 

“You mean to tell me you don’t drink water all day?” I asked her.

“Well water is what we drink she said and it tastes funny and I can’t give you any”

The she asked why my daughter did not have any pants on. I told her, of course, that we’d had an accident. To which she said “Well, at least you are on a farm, if there is anyplace to run around without pants on, it is on a farm.”

Then I paid $6.00 for four bottles of water. We even dared to chat it up a bit with one another. But she still did not budge on the water. I also made sure to tell her about the impact of water bottles on the planet and how we send MILLIONS a day to land fills. And then I lamented the fact that (to use her phrasing) “if there is anyplace to run around and consider preserving the landscape and the future it is on a farm.”

I, of course, am an incessant idealist. So I was bummed at how ironic it all was in my own little mind. That when, even for a small slice of time surrounded by the suburbs, I dared to find myself in a little space pulled away from the strip malls. A place where they prided themselves on celebrating the seasons and the beauty of this time of year. That I could not escape disposable products and bottled water.

we left grumpy. pants-less, and vowing to carry a jug of water in the car and an extra pair of jeans at all times.

Bono. I saw my first Joshua Tree Tour t-shirt in 1987. At that time I had no idea who the band was. Being in seventh grade and all I just thought the t-shirt looked cool. Little did I know that some 20 years later I would join 80,000 of my mostly white 30/40-something peers at Soldier Field in Chicago as U2 launched their North American Tour on September 13. nice.

I’m usually the mama with the green blog but I’m about to divert from that little persona for a moment. But for those of you who are looking for a green moment or a mama moment, in a nutshell, here they are. First, I am tired. Mothers of young children do not belong in a traffic jam in a parking lot until midnight. Toddlers do not care if mama was at a concert last night.

Moms with kids also wear practical shoes and a good sweatshirt to a concert like this. Gone are the days of looking cute. 

Also, U2’s little tour, not so green. Let’s just say that they built a spaceship inside Soldier Field. Lasers, spotlights, a behemoth screen. Cool to look at. Rumors have it this little tour takes 200 semi-trucks to haul itself across the country. yikes. Rumor also has it that the band is offsetting this impact somehow. good.

Okay, green and mama moment over. Now I am going to don my church hat. Going to get all Jesus-y here for a moment. Don’t fret, I think it will be okay.

Many in the evangelical world have had Bono in their fine crosshairs for years. Since he has a powerful understanding of our human condition, the soul, and a sense of God about him, Evangelicals have tried to reel him in and claim him as their own many a time. He eludes them. I applaud him for this.

I could not help but think last night, as I listened while 80,000 people sang the first verse of “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” a cappella. While Desmond Tutu popped up onto the screen urging for global unity and a fight for justice. As a parade of people with masks pleaded the case of Burmese political prisoner Aung San Suu Kyi. And yes, as we sang the first verse of Amazing Grace together, I could not help but feel all churchy inside.

And what I am talking about here is the sort of church experience that makes me want to do big things for this world. The one I think Jesus would want for us. Not the one so many of us actually know.

The sort that moves my soul. That reminds me of how tragic this world is but how hopeful we can be in spite of it. The sort of experience that reminds me I have a part to play in all of this and I’d best not sit by and let it all just pass.

It was an experience that gave me no excuses for my pathetic little navel-gazing moments. It was an experience that had me jumping and listening. An experience that involved me rather than talked at me. It was a three hour time slot that flew by faster than most sermons I have ever experienced.

Now yes, I know, this was a concert. Bono is a rockstar. And the average church cannot fill a stadium or erect a spaceship to motivate people on a Sunday morning.

But all Grammys aside, it still made me take note. It was, of course, a show in every sense of the word. But it was also an attempt to move people into a different reality and I am just not sure we always do this in our churches today. Bono said that night that the sweetest melody is the one that’s not been heard (meaning our children’s dreams for our world). Preach it I say.

He sang three hours worth of music but did not feel the need to preach at us. Vision over visibility. He told us to get involved. Amen I say.

I left more fired up than I anticipated. Left feeling like I can actually make a difference. Left feeling like I had a worship experience. Not worship of Bono, but worship of the ideas Jesus claimed long before U2. Ideas like caring for the poor, fighting injustice, finding your voice, and moving toward change.

Not a half bad Sunday I say. Not a half bad Sunday at all.