Mommy Greenest

When did Halloween become a national holiday?

I went to pick my daughter up from pre-pre-school yesterday and they informed me that after the Carnival today (ponies, petting zoo, bouncey, the works) her school would be closed.

At 12.

Am I supposed to take the day off? Shouldn’t that warrant a note home in the lunchbox or something?

But I digress. What I’m really interested in is how this holiday has evolved from what I knew as a kid:  Kleenex ghosts hung with thread in the window, a few hand-carved pumpkins on the porch, a pillowcase to carry the loot and a ghost costume made from a sheet over my head. (A sheet with the over-the-head part colored yellow made me an fried egg one year. The visual still makes me cringe.)

Oh and candy, did I mention the candy? That seemed to be the point.

Today I get guilt from my kids every time we exit or enter the house. Why don’t we have cobwebs. Why can’t we get a tombstone. Why nothing screams or sighs when you pass through our front door.

I’ve tried to explain that we’re trying not to buy so much plastic. I’ve tried to explain that plastic is made from oil, and oil is non-renewable, causes pollution and wars (not necessarily in that order) and that it never, ever goes away, it just breaks into tiny little pieces that swirl in the middle of the ocean. I even made paper ghost and pumpkin cut-outs for the windows.

All they want is a $49.99 screaming ghost hanging in our entry way.

I’m trying to stay positive. I’m trying to avoid candy made in China and will check their bags tonight for foil-wrapped chocolate coins since they just recalled them for melamine. I’m trying not to let the rampant consumerism get me down, but it really, truly is.

Until I find something like this giant skull made from recycled kitchen utensils that truly embodies the three Rs for the season.

Maybe we can put that on our lawn next year.

So yesterday I read about this author who was looking for eco-experts to comment for a book she’s writing on greener parenting. And here’s what she wanted to know: How does one plant a garden for a new eater? Like squash, potatoes, etc. So that the little budding veggies would come up at the same time as the child’s little budding incisors.

And I thought: What the f*&k?

I mean, has it come to this? If you want to be a greener parent, you have to actually go out, till the soil, plant the seeds, time the growth, all for a stinking sweet potato? All, presumably, when gigantically pregnant or having recently given birth, since this stuff takes a few months and babies basically start eating at six.

Has this woman even had a child?

Here’s what I was doing when I was pregnant with the last one: Chasing after the other two. Here’s what I did right after the first one was born: Slept. Or tried to.

My point is: Being a greener mommy (or daddy) doesn’t have to be an “I’m on a mountaintop with my Birkenstocks and my hemp baby sling” kind of experience. Its the little, doable, barely perceptible (to your baby, and your husband, maybe) changes–the kind of changes that you’ll actually stick to–that make the most difference, I’ve found.

Organic fruits and veggies are obviously important, because babies and children eat so much more of them and so get a much higher concentration of the pesticides and insecticides the regular ones are grown with. Like an ADD kind of high concentration. Or maybe that’s just my first-born.

But does that mean you have to grow your own? Hardly. If you and your baby are on-the-go, buy the jars of organic baby food instead of Gerber’s. They cost literally like 2 cents more, and are in the same aisle of the same store. Or better yet, because they contain less salt and preservatives, get the little tubs in the flash frozen section from Plum Organics or Homemade Baby in the refrigerator aisle–but you might have to hit up Whole Foods for those.

I love my organic garden. I’m not a huge fan of dirt under the fingernails, but when the economy is in the toilet, it just plain makes sense for me to grow lettuce and tomatoes that can save us $20 a week.

But stressing my garden to feed my baby? In my dreams. That is, if I ever got enough sleep to have them.