Thursday, April 16, 2015

a hole in one.






beauties! here is another mini break in the home series for a quick 1-2 which is what i like to call food that takes 1-2 seconds or minutes to make and is simple inside the storm! inside the move, the place that was the hardest to pack up was the kitchen. we were swimming in so much of the unknown. what would we need while we were moving around? what are the essentials to go with us wherever we will be? when will we land and where? i decided to bring all the things i use everyday which in turn made me feel deeply nourished just by looking at them. they were also the things i couldn't bare to put in a box and seal it with tape. they are living and breathing parts of me, of us and how i nourish my family. 

:::i realized that they are not just things, they are a part of our story:::

a few wood spoons (roasting spatula & wooden rice paddle), my mom's 2 copper pots, 2 wood boards (big and small), a bread knife, a few kitchen towels, our iron clad pan, miracle tea, a weck jar of pink salt, a ball jar of brown sugar, olive oil, a small spatula, my mini mits, a roasting dish and chamomile lavender tea. the iron clad pan delivered every time. i love that thing. 

breakfast needed to be quicker than normal because we were staying about 20 minutes  away from a school we used to walk to in five. every morning when i wake up, i turn the stove top dial on low to get the pan warm. i have no idea what will happen. what i do know is i will need to warm or cook something soon: one day old oatmeal to eggs to french toast, you name it. 

:::i wake up, i turn on the fire:::

instead of doing eggs with toast, i thought why not put the two step into one and call it a day? i cut a hole out of a piece of bread and threw it on the warm, lightly buttered iron clad pan. i waited as it warmed the bread. i put the heat up to medium high. then i cracked the egg inside the hole. i also added a little cheese as you can see in the photos. in a minute or two, i turned it over and let it cook a bit on the other side. done and done. say good-bye to waiting at the toaster. of course you can cut all kinds of shapes... a hole seems to do the trick depending on how big your bread is! there are so many different ways you can make this yours. may this bring some brekkie inspiration into your morning routinexxxx

Thursday, April 9, 2015

part five: home.





i am listening. 

and to listen to my body, to my crazy, to my needs: i have to slow way down. why is it so terrifying to slow down? in my childhood, most things were compared to brain surgery as that was my fathers profession. what would happen if a brain surgeon slowed down? the patient would die. so i guess, slowing down meant death or you had to perform life saving surgery (or something of the like) to give yourself the gift of a slow down. you had to sacrifice yourself in some grand way to give yourself the gift of rest. i feel we all have some form of this. what is this? who said this?! another wonderful mantra of the time was 'you can rest when your dead' how can you beat that one?! i suppose not resting might take you there a lot sooner, you can finally let go & rest! OY. these words were said in a jewishy kind of a jest yet the heaviness of never stopping, always doing, sprinting toward success whether i knew what it was or not, being famous, wealthy, shining my light till it died out are all laden in a heavy soup of expectations topped off with a blinding compote that has been simmering in the fires of my body for too long. boring story. 

and the listening required stopping. oh god. stopping. scariest place ever. stopping is not trending anywhere these days and i am a leo with a scorpio rising and an aries moon. help! lets step back a minute. i didn't just decide one day i needed to stop, breathe and really go there whatever that means. also, lets just pop the fantasy cherry that i am all good now and stopping comes with ease. NOT THE CASE. i am steeping, drip by drip in this precious forever conversation, in this fearlessly tender practice, this vital listening, that is this being human thing. 

i thought letting the house go would be the hardest part of our journey as we tried to do everything we could to keep it. we were so scared to let go. in the process of getting the house ready to sell, we moved out in the new year. a dear friend offered her home to us for one month. we figured this would be plenty of time to find our new home. i can admit to even a zest of excitement in the unknown, finding a home that will serve our family better with a yard, a conversation with nature, aligning with what we wanted for our family, maybe even a swing set and some bikes. 

one of the last nights at 601 j and i made a fire. we wrote on a piece of paper everything we wanted in a home. we talked about all the things we see, we crave, we want for our family. we put it on the altar. as the days, the craigs list posts, the westside rentals, the willows, the trulias, the MLS' all rolled by we were faced with our story over and over again. on paper, we were not the best of candidates for a clean credit report. every phone call, every agent, every open house we would share the story. we were honest, authentic, up front and deeply exhausted. we were rejected by the first three homes we liked. each place taught us something new. don't involve the kids, speak directly to the listing agent, meet the owners. the month of january was full with tears, carrying a heaviness that only the unknown can bring mixed with a fierce mama lion desire to keep us moving forward in a thick & sticky landscape of letting go, letting go, letting go. i had no idea what i was doing. i made breakfast, lunch and dinner. i packed boxes. i called clients. i watched the end of parenthood. talk about loss.

one of my tools to slowing down is creating altars. creating beauty everywhere i look. i crave beauty inside the suffering: a point in which to pray. a place to stop, to see what i am working toward, to express my gratitude. an installation of intentions that is working while i am surviving. my true self represented inside of a painted rock, a feather, a poem, a louise hay quote, a lit votive candle from ikea as the whirling dervishes inside me dance their dance. all of this inside black beans & rice, potty training, undying laundry, karate, trying not to yell and failing at every attempt, looking for empathy everywhere and finding it in the altar.

::: this is part five in an unraveling series on home :::

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

a pause for passover ::: brisket.

hi beauties! let's take a breather in this unraveling series on home to give you a brisket recipe for passover or any day really... it's a quick prep and a deeply nourishing outcome with it's warm aroma filling the house for hours and it's delicious taste.  this is a very significant piece to defining the sacredness of home, the connection to my bloodline, the poetry inside my culture ::: the delicious food of the high holidays. i am rarely 'on it' with the blogging & weeks before posting recipes (sorry).... i think a staff might turn that around. i guess i could start with a calendar. today, i am turning over a new leaf and sharing a very simple and BEAUTY filled recipe for passover. this can happen in a dutch oven or in a slow cooker. i love both depending on what your day has in store. if you will be home, throw it in the oven. if not, slow cook it. whatever you do, with these few ingredients it will be delish.

BRISKET
parsley, celery, carrots, meyer lemon zest, 
spring onions, garlic, garlic salt, bay leaves, 
rosemary, thyme, salt and LOVE. 

1. turn the oven to 350
2. heat the dutch oven on the stove top with medium to high heat. 
3. inside the dutch oven: olive oil, spring onion or any onion, garlic
4. massage the meat with gratitude, love, garlic salt, salt, rosemary,
thyme & parsley
5. you are looking to hear the 'audible sear'
6. make sure the pot is hot
7. seer the meat for a few minutes on both sides
8. then add a few stalks of celery, carrots and any other vegetables
9. yams, potatoes or celery root are a nice addition if you are looking
for more roots
10. then add 1 - 2 bay leaves, a little more olive oil on top, salt & zest
of one meyer lemon
11. put it in the oven on 350 for 2 1/2 hours with the top on
12. you will want to check in every 30 minutes to an hour
13. you are also welcome to turn it over if you want in those intervals
14. whatever you do, it will turn out beautifully
15. you got thisxxxx


the food of the holiday is where i have an opportunity to connect with my judaism, the kitchen as my temple. the smells, the gathering of the food, the connecting with all the jewish grandmothers before me, it's inside the stories we came from and the stories we are writing today. we are giving our families this story by turning on the fire during this time of the holidays. whatever you believe, you can connect to nourishing your family with intention and lovexxxx.

Monday, March 30, 2015

part four: home.


inside the mess i found some more beauty. i found some freedom. i discovered nourishment. 

i began to realize the old story, the story i was born into, the palette of colors that fed my parents and the family they raised, could no longer apply to me and my family. that round & precious placenta that fed who i was and where i came from was no longer able to serve in that way.  the safety nets had big holes, the gods took off their masks, the skin began to peel revealing the bones that define home, safety, warmth, love, nourishment and dare i say: prayer. 

in this unraveling, i had to sculpt something. i had to shoot a few birds with one stone. i had to feed myself, my family, my marriage and my expression inside a new kind of survival. it no longer existed in a new pair of shoes or seasonal bed linens, it couldn't take hold inside of a family trip or a little anniversary getaway. the restart button, the release gear, the reconnection to myself had to come from within. 


i sat on the porch in the dark with my breath. 


i had no idea what i was doing. i just knew that i had to do it. i had to get up before the house got up. i had to hear my own breath; even if it lasted a second inside the noise, the fear, the fantasies. i had to go back to the breath. i had to find my way back to the breath. i had to find my way to nourishment.


to ask what nourishes me, i have to ask who am i? i have to know myself to know what i truly crave, what i want in life, what i want today. i have to make choices that align with my values, with the nutrients i need, those ingredients that reflect who i am in this moment, the story i am writing, the mother i am raising, the children i am growing. 

i sat with all the people who live inside me. i sat with my body. i asked her questions. i took notes on a blank canvas, a cold heavy block of clay, an un-lined sheet of paper, an empty wood floor. i am listening. i heard her fears that fueled me for so long. i let myself know that i am here now. i am listening.


all of this became prayer. 

all of this, inside carpool, soccer practice, red DWP bills, family night, quesadillas, miracles.
nourishment became prayer.


::: this is part 4 in a series about home :::

Thursday, March 26, 2015

part three: home.






"beauty is the conversation between what we think is happening
outside in the world and what is just about to occur far inside us" 
david whyte

what i think is happening and what is just about to occur far inside me. i had to make room for what was happening far inside me. i had to begin a search for trust, i had to try to find the light switch for faith, what it looked like to believe, what it felt like to support me, on my own, table for one. to fall deeply & truly in love with all that i am, broken pieces, torn swatches, whole heart, lonely survivor, messy beauty. 

i had no other choice but to get really really quiet. 

inside the loud choir of chaos, the recipes to fix my life, the suturing of all the wounds, the should have's, the desperation that would creep up behind me inside needing a new pair of jeans, sneakers, underwear or the kids needs, wants, hungry for what everyone else had to a warm jacket, a lunchbox, a bike.

i remember the fittings my mother would set up for my sister and i in palm beach, florida. we would 'get fitted' for an occasion. in the dressing room with a three part mirror, my mom & usually an older jewish woman looking at me over her glasses to see if the length was just right in the back, to see if they needed to take it in a little more on the side, to see if it was perfect. 

my wanting got so thick & sticky like sourdough rising under saran wrap. the waves of wanting would take me under, i could hardly breathe. i wanted to run. i wanted to sit still. i wanted to eat cookie dough ice cream and watch a romantic comedy. i wanted to order 6 of everything. i wanted someone to rub my back, tuck me in and sit with me while i fell asleep. i wanted a mother, a grandmother, a great grandmother. to see me. hear me. tell me i am going the right way. everything is perfect, just like the hem on my dress.

the only thing i could find was beauty.
beauty in everything. 
beauty and ocean in everything.
hope was turning into beauty. 

i could gather, create, be inside of, understand, reflect, taste, smell, quilt beauty into the pain. the entire feast of savory and sweet, i could always create space for beauty. i found her inside my grandmothers cobalt tea cups, a warm wide wood bowl you want to nap in, a perfectly deep and loving ladle. peeling parsnips, my hands inside of olive oil & salt, making love to a new kind of abundance. one that had nothing to do with things and everything to do with the story inside everything. i crave the lineage, the past, the present. the stories i didn't know, the ones i was making up on the fly, the permission to let the flab hang over the unbuttoned jeans, the lipstick on the teeth, burning the rice. 

inside the mess i found some more beauty. i found some freedom. i discovered nourishment. 

::: this is part three in a series unraveling on home you can find parts one & two here :::

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

part two: home.

::: this is part two of a series about home part one is here :::


the day we let go of hope, our new story could begin. 

mind you, i had no idea this is what was happening. we had so many clear tubes, colorful wires, electrical sockets, tied up placentas, injections of hope inside starting new, over and over and over again. 

we started a new for seven years. 
we were not going to give up. 
hope. 

there were many firsts. documentary style firsts. american express coming to the door on christmas eve to take my husband to court, selling the rings or the car being repo'ed in the middle of the night. car alarm blaring all the way down the hill with the car seats in it. 
picking the car up later that day with 6 pit bulls to guard the gate. 'this doesn't look like the volkswagon dealer dad.' 

heart breaking. 
heart all over the place. 
hearts full with hope. 

i couldn't find anyone who came from where i came and landed where i landed. i tried to make small talk. i tried to answer the questions how are you? where are you going for spring break? i tried to share the story. i tried to look for help, for support, for a mother. in the depths of hope i tried to lose the story or maybe i was hoping to find myself inside of it. the story never fit me. it was too big around the neck line or too tight in the hip. i was trying to do anything i could to lighten the heavy in a serrated terrain of thick thick shame. the yoga, the walking, the playdates, the writing, the working. how to live when so much is dying? how to live period. how to make a life in this life? the dreams, the vows, the definitions, old beliefs, the thinking, the knowing, my mothers voice, my fathers voice, the groundlessness of it all.i couldn't find anything in there. i was no where to be found. 

i started to get really hungry. 

the only thing i could find was the fire. the cake plate. the wood board. the bread knife. the bartlett pear. the golden beet. the farmer. the land. the source. my breath. 5:30 am. the shame. the shame. the shame. the olive oil cake. loneliness. the bad ass book. 5:30 am. my breath. miracles. homeopathy. my body. courage. the unknown. anxiety. panic attacks. deep loss. friendship. sadness. my vulnerability. all the broken pieces. soup. altars. arthritis. my marriage. baby white turnips. ocean. beauty. values. mary oliver. pema chodron. a kitchen healer. meridians. cupping. poetry. grief. dreams. fear. fearlessness. suffering. softening. my breath.

the only thing i could find was beauty. 

beauty in everything. beauty inside the pain. beauty inside the suffering. beauty in this polyester suit in summer. beauty in not knowing anything. beauty in the beatings. beauty in my breath. beauty in a bowl full of golden nugget tangerines. beauty in my lop-sided c-section scar. beauty in my body. beauty in my inflamed toes. beauty in everything. beauty in the leaning in. beauty in letting go. beauty in my fears. beauty in telling the story. beauty in the permission. beauty in the freedom. beauty in not knowing what is going to happen next.










::: this is part two in a series about home :::


Monday, March 23, 2015

part one: home.



today we closed escrow on our first home.

i am everything about it. i am the loss, the depth, i am the shallow, i am the commas, the period, the question mark, the exclamation point all in one. i am the spectrum of colors, i am roygbiv, i am the joy, the gain, the heavy, the light, i am all of the altars we made, the prayers we prayed, the longest of exhales, all the tears we shed. if i had to pick one word, one feeling to describe it all, to label this box in black sharpie, to print this chapter in a fancy font, it would read: grateful. 

i continue to ask myself what is a house? what is a home? so much. so much is a home. our home. i want to write all of it down, i want it to be in one short form, one map, one poem, one song. i am finding (in my research) that a home is where we define our first stories, where we edit, cut, paste, change, shift, grow, die, birth ourselves, our childhood, our adulthood, our motherhood. it's a beginning, it's an end, a backdrop, a bed, a soup. a home is cupcakes, silver, a floral tea cup with a broken stem. a home is a place, a feeling, a smell in the morning, a sound in the night, a body. a home is sauteed onions, garlic and olive oil.  

as a little girl, a home was chandeliers, limoges, amber glass, anger, broken mirrors, walk-in closets, a foyer, fancy parties, lazy susans and pianos that played on their own. a home was toasted plain bagels with whipped cream cheese in a plastic tub, sliced thin tomato with thick ribbons of bright orange nova on top. a home is where i learned about beauty, the good and the bad. it's where the mirror went from dear friend to confusing & complicated. a home was big and grew bigger over time. a home was so many things.

in our story, a home was hope. it was a marriage, a beginning, a wedding, conception, birth, midwives, doulas, wood toys, a miscarriage, growing bellies, paintings, gatherings, breast feeding. it was my husband's pride, it was what you did to begin your story, it was a start to so much more. it was the top of the mountain, the view, the vastness, the definitions of who and what we were, how to live a life, how to create a day, how to turn on the fire, how to nourish all the broken bits. in time, our home became white knuckles, desperation, unpaid bills, shame, vulnerability, loss, a desire to run and never come back, an unraveling of the cellular structures from which we came, a garage full of fabric, seven years of 1-800 calls, strangers coming to the door, taking pictures, almost losing hope, then gaining hope, then losing it, then gaining it until finally we let hope go all together. 

the day we let go of hope, our new story could begin.

as we take the key off the key chain and leave it in the drawer for this new family, i feel grateful for their new beginning, their new life together and the family they are creating. so many new stories just waiting to be createdxxxx

::: this is part 1 of a series about home :::


Friday, January 16, 2015

parsnip fries with love.

beauties!
it's been 1 month and 1 week.
lets just say, i miss you & i am not 
going to let the guilt bring me under!
here is some parsnip love to kick off
the new year with beauty & love. 

PARSNIP FRIES
olive oil
garam masala
curry, tumeric
cinnamon
salt & love
throw on a baking sheet/casserole dish
put in the oven at 400 - 415
for 30- 45 minutes
check and move around at
20 minutes
enjoyxxxx

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

roasting, roasting & some more roasting.




:::beauties:::
if there is one conversation to 
have about turning on the fire
it's called roasting which really
means turning on the oven when
you walk into the kitchen without
knowing...what is going in it, what meal
you are cooking for, what time you need
to leave, all of it. you will be hungry, there
will be food: the end...or just the beginning.

this fire on in the home is a below the neck chat.
it's not about figuring anything out other than making
your tea/coffee, grabbing a bread knife or some scissors
and throwing your veggies into a dish to hang out
in the heat while you make breakfast, school lunches, 
brush your teeth and get the routine under way.
this is the way to fold your nourishment into day
to day busy lives we lead..you will need a roasting dish
or baking sheet some olive oil & salt.

turn the oven to 375-400 convection bake or roast

take out your beets, your cauliflower, turnips, carrots...
you can wash them if there is soil or you feel the need
put them in the vessel, pour oil, salt, love & done.
***no need to peel anything***
i think the prep is about 6-8 minutes depending on 
how long it takes to cut something into pieces or wash
off dirt; this can happen in 2 or 3 increments if needed
you might need to take the kids to school or the cat
is stuck in the tree or you realize you need to go on a
long drive...whatever the case you can turn off the oven
and they can cook inside the heat or take them
out knowing that you are part way there or or or ...

this idea that we need to stop and cook sets us
up to never cook except for on thanksgiving
my feelings on that topic are in a novella out of print!!
this is DOABLE.
warm your heart, your home, your family
roast something yummy today
XXXX



Tuesday, December 2, 2014

persimmon chocolate chip muffins.









::::BEAUTIES::::
it's been way too long since
i have shared a warm & yummy 
recipe so here is one for the booksxxxx

PERSIMMON CHOCOLATE CHIP MUFFINS
inspired by www.bonafidefarmfood.com

FIRST:
turn on the fire to 350 & place liners in muffin pan

GATHER:
1 lb. hiyicha persimmon pulp
6 tbs. unsalted butter
1/2 cup light brown sugar
2 eggs
1/2 cup buttermilk or plain yogurt
2 cups of cup 4 cup (gluten free flour)
2 tsp baking powder
1 cup of chocolate chips
you can also add nuts or anything else you desire!
  
THEN: 
cream the butter with the light brown sugar
add eggs and mix
scrape down sides
add buttermilk & persimmon pulp
mix until combined
in a separate bowl:
mix up dry ingredients
flours/baking powder & soda/salt
add it all to wet ingredients 
scrape down sides
add chips and other yummies
fill muffin tins 2/3 full
place in oven for 35 minutes

the holiday season is such a warm and inviting 
time to bake up a storm... try to find time to 
turn on the fire in this way... let me know how you goxxxx


Thursday, November 27, 2014

black friday sale xxxx.

beautiesxxxxxx
::::GIVING TO THEM (YOU) WITH KINDNESS::::
TOMORROW TILL MIDNIGHT
all kitchen healing offerings are on sale
check it out here 

wherever you are located you can experience
this deeply nourishing & transformative work
with a healing session or kitchen healing
via Skype, phone or in person

the miracles are not only in the my kitchen
they are happening in your kitchen too with 
private couple miracles & family miracles
giving everyone room and a safe space to share
feelings and food stories within a sacred container
and some wood board love of course! 

some loving words from a current healing sessions client:
"Jules brings her whole heart, experience and intuition to this process. 
I have so much admiration for her, and gratitude for being shown these
new ways of being in the world, in the kitchen, in my body. I have had
many years of therapy, but my husband and family agree that the real
changes started when I began to talk to Jules about my difficulties,
which included disordered eating. Her unembarrassed imagination
has given me the courage to express myself, and ultimately
to care for myself. Jules brings a joyful and humorous outlook
to the process while at the same allowing me to be my most
vulnerable self. She holds that space for compassion and joy,
for light and dark. I've learned that the saving powers of beauty
and nourishment can be transformative, and they ripple out
towards the whole family. Working with Jules has
been a most powerful experience."

if you have been curious about this work
or you want to give someone the best &
most nourishing gift of the year click here

so grateful to inspire and nourish
YOU and YOURS this holiday season
and alwaysxxxx

Monday, November 10, 2014

friends cook & other news xxxx.

:::::beauties::::

i am feeling very grateful for a few
wonderful events i have coming up!
a week from today: TUESDAY NOVEMBER 18
i will be doing a friends cook at canale in atwater village. 
canale is by far my most favorite restaurant in the city.
i love the nyc feel with the open kitchen, the farm to table intention,
the love & passion inside the food and of course the wine is amazing. 
the whole vibe is intimate and delicious. it's the perfect date night or
you  can bring the whole family... it works for all occasions.
check it out here.

i am honored to create a menu & cook with corina! the doors will
open at 5pm with a happy hour till 7 pm... the menu will be steeped
in the fall inspiration and of course, my desire to nourish YOU!
please come & support this local restaurant
with the best of the best food & me in my apron...
i am so looking forward to seeing youxxxx
this week....
THURSDAY NOVEMBER 13
if you are pregnant or newly a mama
and you want to sit with other women in a
safe space, come to the birth stories in venice this 
thursday evening at 7pm...i will be sharing an abundance
of wood board love and inspiring all the beauties
with kitchen healing wisdom and laughter too! 
next month....
FRIDAY DECEMBER 12 
HOLIDAY MIRACLE
MY KITCHEN
10 - 2PM
(this will fill up reserve yours asap)
XXXX

Sunday, November 2, 2014

annapurna living.


::::::::::BEAUTIES::::::::::

i invite you to an amazing love fest happening today!
today is the launch & birth of a dear sister friends site.
here is the thing: it's so much more than a website.
it's like coming home to a piece of you
all the hungry bits and pieces
yearning to feast inside a love filled terrain
the landscape of what a conversation can really look like
this place is called annapurna living

annapurna is deep, thick, warm and open
for you to discover, explore, swim about and nourish yourself.

"anna means food & grains. purna means full, compete & perfect.
annapurna is the symbol for the One who grants nourishment
on every level. annapoorna symbolizes the divinity of nourishing care.
when food is cooked with a spirit of holiness, it becomes alchemy."

carrie anne moss is the dreamer, believer and creator
of this gorgeous place we can go to feel and feed ourselves, inside
delicious stories, beauty art, simple recipes on creating a life that
aligns with our values; who we are now and where we are growing to.

i feel so grateful to be a part of this tribe of amazing women;
sharing my hunger, cooking up the love and making room to 
to inspire & deeply nourish all of us in the spirit of holinessxxxx 

join the love fest over here 
xxxx

bringing the miracle to omaha
this week if you live there xxxx
&
if you want a miracle in your town
email me by replying to this post
:::::::::::::::::

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

parties.


this post is a story that i experienced and it is also a conversation that i am curious about. it might be an emotional terrain that has lots of sensitive parts maybe even land mine areas too. it's about our children and parties. it's also about freedom, how we define freedom with food, how we nourish a celebration, how we create fun for our children and what it looks like for the village to care, to supervise, to make sure our kids are "ok." i want to hear your ideas, put it all on a wood board and explore the foggy landscape of what this looks like in our day to day world; caring for kids at a party and what that means. here is the story...

my son was invited to his classmates birthday party. he was really excited as he knew a lot of his friends were going to be there. we had another birthday party across town later that day so i had told the mother we would need to leave earlier than expected. on the way there, my son was telling me that the birthday boy's lunch at school doesn't really look like healthy food. my son said "he gets chips ahoy cookies everyday in his lunch box and trades them in for healthier snacks." my heart sank as this is a story i hear inside my clients food stories.

all of this to tell me that he wasn't so sure about the kind of food that would be offered at the party. we talk about food a lot as you can imagine. we talk about how we feel about food and with soccer game snacks, school and parties we chat about what foods feel good in our bodies and so forth. we talk about the source of food a lot as i want my kids (and all of us!) to know where food comes from.  

when we arrived at the party, we didn't see many parents around because this was a 'drop the kid off' kind of party which was a first for me because my son just turned 8! i guess this is the time that it starts to happen. upon our arrival, the dad answered the door inviting us into a dark living room that lead into a kitchen which then lead us outside to some cushioned chairs, two balloons, a blue cooler filled with ice, fresca soda, minute maid soda and water. there was a grill with oscar meyer hot dogs, hot dog buns, frozen hamburger patties and a big block of cheddar cheese. there were red and blue themed plates and napkins too. 

the kids were all running around after each other playing a game called infection. it was fun to see them laugh and enjoy. after a few minutes, they came to get something to drink out of the cooler. they all reached for a soda and started to laugh about drinking the soda. they were toasting each other harder and harder so that the fuzzy bubbles would fizz over the top and spill all over the table. they were like a pack of wolves, surrounding this round ottoman hitting the cans together like irish men in a pub (a few beers in). it was as if i were watching them drink their first beers in college trying to get into a fraternity. there were boys that were quietly drinking and their were boys trying to get attention, hoping to be heard, to be seen with taking another soda out of the cooler, showing off and making the other boys laugh. here is the thing, i was the only parent watching them. this was not a big home where they could be easily lost or not seen and heard. the hosts were drinking wine and close by to everything. finally, after many long moments, one of the hosts said to a boy to stop spilling on the furniture. a lot of those boys had 2 sodas as i was sitting there in a 10-15 minute period. 

then lunch was served. they had a choice of hot dog or hamburger. the ketchup and mustard was on the fold out tables in the yard. i watched the kids douse their meat with pools of ketchup. this was another moment where the stand up comedy came in to effect  for those kids making fun of how much they could pour on their meat. 

no one was watching them except me & my confusion on what to do, my passion for this conversation with our kids, my love for our bodies, my grief for so many things. i watched myself like a hawk as i did not want to offend the hosts or say anything out of turn. i was acting super calm just sitting with my daughter, drinking water asking about the remodel of their home. the other part of me was screaming inside me to get up and say something. my brain said "sit down!" and my body got up, walked over to one of the boys and asked if he was ok if i called his mom just to make sure he is allowed to have the 2nd soda. i have no idea how the words even came out of my mouth. my brain was still sitting down with my daughter watching the rumpus slash lord of the flies happen. 

i knew one of the moms as she has asked me about my work and is a fan of the little miracle i do in the class. i just felt she probably wouldn't be into what was happening with her son. i guess my biggest fear is that she would get him back totally drugged up and out which is so hard to deal with as a parent. i felt so many things at that moment as i am the freakin' kitchen healer! 

at this point in the story, we have 2 sodas and probably a 1/2 of a cup of ketchup swimming around in a 50 pound boy, plus whatever is in the meat and the high fructose corn syrup & sugar in the bun. it's been less than an hour.

then my son comes up to me asking if we can stay for the piƱata. i say yes as we will leave after that. all the boys run to get in line, with colorful bags in hand, to hit the alien ship with a baseball bat. after a few rounds, all the candy comes out, sweet tarts, gobstoppers, mints, lollipops and so forth. the boys are opening up wrappers as though they have never eaten before, one candy after the next after the next. we left after that, but i believe the next thing to do was to sing happy birthday and have a cupcake. 

i can hear all the voices in my head as i write this post. i will share them with you:
what's the big deal? it's a 7 year old birthday party let them enjoy. it's a once in a while occasion. who are you to tell them what they can and cannot put in their body? it's not your responsibility to tell other kids what they can and cannot put in their bodies? if the parents say you can drop your kid off, what does supervision look like in our modern day lives? what do the parents expect? does anyone even care about this? i am sure we all care about our kids bodies and we want the best for them and those around us. i could go on and on. 

i would love to hear from you. what do you think? what would you have done? bring it on beautiesxxxx

fyi: the total sugar in one can of minute maid lemonade is 27 grams of sugar with sugar and high fructose corn syrup. the fresca has little to no sugar (grams) with aspartame and other ingredients your grandmother would not know what to do with! the meats, well you know that one.  the buns, the candy, the cake. i mean... maybe 100 grams of sugar or a lot more.. in a two hour period. the daily amount for a kid from 4 - 8 years old is 12 grams per day.