I have long lamented about how I have no friends nearby with kids. I had one for a while (we met in a weird way (like most of my friends) because I had heard she had just had a baby so I left some enchiladas and a note on her front doorstep basically asking her to check yes or no if she wanted to be friends--she's now one of my closest friends and I love her whole family so much) but she moved to Charlottesville and I'm still trying to get her to move back.
About a year ago I found out that some old friends had moved to town. They were people I knew and liked separately but hadn't kept in touch with. They met during that time and wound up hitched! I actually couldn't think of many better couples. Courtney is from Canada and he wound up in Rappahannock
because Lizzie grew up here (which is also weird because when I knew Lizzie before, I didn't even know this place existed). Anyway, none of that really matters. What really matters is we reconnected and they live 2 minutes away. They were one of the first people we told when I was pregnant with Eve and I tried really hard to convince them to have a baby too so I would have a buddy.
It worked. She still hasn't forgiven me...but that's another story.
All that to say, we hang out a lot. Eve pushes Landon around, James dances for him, Landon gazes on in complete rapture of the mayhem that is more than one kid and he loves me because I feed him. And I love him because he loves to eat which satisfies so many things in me. I love him for other reasons too, he's ridiculously cute.
About once a week, at least, we have fairly impromptu dinners. Really, Landon has his own room here. But we like to make sure we are ready at a moments notice to have a great time. Usually this means beverages. Cause we always have food. Lizzie and I can put away champagne in an impressive way, Tom mostly drinks wine, and Courtney drinks rum and coke. Okay, now we're getting to my title (sort of). Let me explain something:
I've evolved...a lot. Riding and competing in my teens and early 20s I was possibly not the healthiest girl, however active I was. I ate...anything. I might have smoked on occasion and I maybe partied sometimes. I drank Diet Coke simply as my one concession to being diabetic. As I kind of grew up I started to tone it down. I did realize that I really only like wine and didn't need to drink whatever was put in front of me. I realized that people actually can smell smoke on you no matter how stealthy you think you are. And I realized that I actually don't like the taste of Diet Coke. At all. Sometimes things take me a while.
So now on the ever narrowing and rickety branch that is (was) my twenties, I have two beautiful children and an amazing husband.
We run two businesses that are based around an outdoor lifestyle and healthy eating. I've turned into a compete crazy person about homemaking bread, tortillas, mustard, kefir, teriyaki sauce, butter, bacon, sausage...you name it, I want to know how to make it myself without the preservatives or crap ingredients. Since starting raw milk I've lost weight and feel better than ever (or at least since I've had kids--I don't remember much before then and I also haven't slept more than a handful of hours since then--I imagine I felt decent when I got full nights sleep....I digress). When I go to the store my cart is full (FULL) of fresh and organic fruits and vegetables. The rest of the cart is filled possibly with ingredients I need for baking or cleaning supplies. Or wine. The necessities.
I can be a little smug walking through the store with my baby girl lounging her her Ergo (James is at school for these outings), grocery cart full of greenery. I feel like a good mom, for that one hour anyway. But I feel a responsibility to our favorite neighbors that when they come over, they don't need to bring anything. This is important cause it's not like they pass a store on their way! So last week, smack on top of my cart, in a glaring red container, was Coke. And I felt judged people. Seriously, I started pulling people aside and telling them the Coke was for a friend. Okay, I really didn't do that. But I did text Lizzie and told her my feelings of paranoia. It was worse than the usual judgement I feel for not having reusable grocery bags. Hey, it's good to know I still have room to grow.
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