Oreos and granola

There I was.  Barefoot and pregnant.  Grinding my own grain.  Dirty children everywhere, playing with sticks.  This was yesterday.
It's happened.  I've turned into a hippy.

I didn't mean to.  I didn't want to.  But it struck me the other morning as I washed my hair with baking soda and cider vinegar and thought through the homeschool morning plans - I'm really starting to go granola.

Maybe it's not too serious yet.  I mean, at least I do still wash my hair.  And I do buy boxes of macaroni and cheese.  And drive a relative gas-guzzler.  And daily interact with my Keurig.

I think it was reading about fluoride-in-water debates that put me over the edge.  From much of what I can find, it's toxic to ingest, Hitler used it to keep prisoners docile, it's illegal to dump into rivers, and causes a lot of dental discoloration, particularly for children.  But many towns put it in drinking water and toothpaste, at least they have since the end of the world war when we had a surplus of the stuff.  I've always been told it was good for you; but if all - or any - of this discrepancy is true, then I'm disturbed by the conflict.
And that's just one.

Yes, I know there's a lot of misinformation out there.  There's a lot of doom and gloom reports and conspiracy theories.  And it would be easier to just pass the blame for personal health and wealth difficulties onto large, faceless organizations.

This blog isn't meant to be political.  It's not a foodie blog.  There are plenty of those out there, and I've been known to read them.  But it's not always theological or philosophical.  This is tidbits of my life and lessons I've learned along the way, particularly through mommyhood.  Recently, more and more, I am disturbed rather than placated when I read about mass production and political control of the basic necessities of life.  Assembly lines have their place, after all.  But when it comes down to genetically modifying grain and corn that I want to feed my kids, making it less digestible and nutritious, all in the name of greater output and income for mega companies like Monsanto, eh, it's disheartening.
I want to trust the FDA to tell me food is safe and wholesome.  I want to rely on the CDC to supply safe and effective vaccines and medicines.  I want to believe my government has the interests of its people at heart.  I want to...
According to the Bible, which I hold as my highest authority, my body is the temple of God.  Ultimately, I answer to Him for what I do with/to it.  My children are my responsibility to raise physically, mentally, and spiritually.  Not the government's.  And I am supposed to be wise with my time and a good steward of my resources because I'm quite sure He has made them and then given them to me.  I don't hug trees, I teach kids to climb them, because I'm not particularly worried about a sustainable earth.  He ultimately plans to make a new one anyway.  I'm not out to blame politicians or corporations if they don't look after my health and wellness as well as I would like.  It's my job, not theirs, when it comes down to pointing fingers.

Homemade something or other.

So I'm making my own yogurt today and planning my garden.
After I showered this morning, I sprayed the bathroom fixtures with white vinegar to clean them and make them shine.  When Ben scooched himself in to see what was keeping me, I let him attempt the spray bottle, because I wasn't worried about him getting it on his skin (though he did smell a bit funny till it dried off.)
Making up a fresh batch of deodorant and grating soap to make into laundry powder are still on my list, perhaps after the kids are in bed.
The microwave is used more for a time keeper than a food-heater.
I grind my own grain and am looking for a good place to buy old grain versions that haven't been genetically altered. (If anyone knows where to buy einkorn grain in bulk for less than a fortune, send me a message!)
I compost.
I use the clothesline all summer.  (Clothes just smell fresher.)
Coconut oil is my baby's diaper rash treatment, I fry my eggs in it, and slather it all over my face every day.  (And I do keep it in separate containers for each of the above uses.)
Supper will involve hamburger from local, pasture-raised cows (probably as meatloaf.)
My oldest son is spending the afternoon helping Grampy build a chicken house so we can all have fresh eggs in a few months.
I'm researching ways to deal with a low functioning thyroid to figure out what causes it and what's the best way to fix it.
Edible cultured things grow on my countertops.
The hand soap in the pump by the sink - I know what's in it, because I made it.
In the past month, I've learned to render lard and make dishwasher soap.
I'm wading through mounds of vaccine debates.
Essential oils have a special place in my cupboard.
The two year old actually likes getting his cod liver oil.
I think about making magnesium oil in my spare time.
I'm willing to fight a bit to have a natural birth rather than schedule a c-section for my baby as long as we're both healthy, even though the last child had to arrive surgically.

I'm not militant about it all, at least not yet.  We bought Doritos for my four year old son's birthday this past weekend, and dyed his scrambled eggs so we could have green eggs and ham.  (FYI, bacon doesn't dye well.)  I still shop at big box stores for toilet paper.  I still buy disposable diapers.  (Gasp.  I know.  That's real life.)  There are Cheerios in the cupboard.  I occasionally pull out the bleach if there's been a particularly nasty event in the bathtub.  I like nice shoes.  I only let my legs grow fuzzy in deepest, darkest winter.  And I will never convert to carob over chocolate.  You can quote me on that one.

So among the au naturale folks, I'm far too commercialized to fit in.
Among those of the current culture, I'm far too out of the loop to commiserate with their daily life.      

I will fight you if you try to give my baby soy-based formula after he's born.  I think that stuff's horrendously terrible, especially for newborns.  But if you are over for lunch, you may see a horde of children eating store-bought frozen chicken nuggets.  It happens.
In fact, I'm going to go dig out the Oreos and milk so my 4 year old and I can have a treat before his brothers come home from Grampy's.  Double stuffed.  Times like that are every bit as important to me as eating spinach from the backyard garden.  At least the milk is from grass-fed, local cows...

And then I'm going to make granola.