Growing up in Eugene, Oregon, it’s no surprise I’ve picked up a few hippie habits along the way. My mom had a knack for turning ordinary foods into something a bit more “natural”—think yogurt sprinkled with wheat germ and chocolate chip cookies that were actually carob and zucchini. I never intended to become a “crunchy” mom, but one day, I caught myself in a whirlwind of self-criticism, feeling I wasn’t doing enough or being strict enough.
We made our weekly pilgrimages to the farmer’s market. We said goodbye to high fructose corn syrup. Juices were diluted and artificial sweeteners were banished. I splurged on grass-fed beef and hormone-free milk. As our family grew from one kid needing snacks to three, I invested in BPA-free containers and cute fabric snack bags. I even compromised by allowing one Capri Sun alongside their trusty stainless steel water bottles—a little taste of normalcy, right?
But then came the articles about BPA-free containers leaching chemicals. My inner judge was relentless. “What do you mean they’re leaching chemicals?” I had tossed out all the plastics, embraced BPA-free products, and felt like a health warrior. I had trusted the process.
Then, the hormone-free lunch meat I had been purchasing with such pride got recalled. Somehow, I fell into the trap of thinking that by spending more, adhering strictly to the “better” choices, my kids would be shielded from harm. “No carcinogens here,” I thought. Wrong again.
Alright, let’s switch to metal and glass! But glass can shatter. Metal has its quirks too. Paper? Nah, plastic? Nope. Let them buy their own.
You know what? I’m done. I’m waving the white flag. I’m exhausted from hunting down paraben-free shampoos. I don’t want to buy organic peppers only to find them moldy before I even unpacked them. I’m worn out from watching other kids munch on fruit snacks while my kids turn their noses up at the “healthier” alternatives I provided.
Honestly, I don’t care how much our groceries cost right now. The real expense is my sanity as I stress over whether their lunches are homemade enough, their containers are safe, and the food is pure. The toll of being a frazzled, short-tempered mom is way higher than the occasional sip of milk with rbST or a snack pouch containing a bit of HFCS.
A good friend once pointed out, “At the end of the day, your kids are going to school with food to eat.” What a refreshing perspective!
This school year, I’m taking a different approach—not because I love my kids any less, but because I love them enough to know I need to lighten up. So, let’s raise a juice box and a pre-packaged snack bag and toast to the back-to-school season with a hearty, “It’s all going to be okay.”
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Summary:
In a humorous account, Jenna Collins reflects on her journey as a health-conscious mom, revealing the pressures of providing the “perfect” diet for her kids. Realizing that her stress was outweighing the benefits, she decides to ease up and embrace a more balanced approach to parenting, with a focus on sanity over perfection.