.SOMETIMES RAW.

As a holistic nutritionist with a picky-eater son, I know how hard it can be to provide us with nutritious dinners that are also tasty, eco-conscious, cookbook-cover-worthy, and affordable. That is why I like to meal-plan and set myself up for success each week.

Disclaimer: Success varies greatly and typically manifests as a failure. I know you are wondering now: Are we supposed to just go about our everyday crazy lives and pretend that the collective trauma of a seemingly endless pandemic, the near-overthrow of our “democracy”, and irreversible damage to our climate isn’t real? Also, are there vegan, Keto, raw-food, or vegetarian options? Or, besides working full-time, I need more time and more healthy food options. This is how I meal-prep with a grain of sarcasm of course.

Grocery list: First things first. Is it safe to shop in person, or should I still get groceries delivered? What a great, unanswerable question! Luckily, all these meals can be made with basics from your pantry, unless, of course, your definition of “basics” is boxed wine, a pallet of family-sized hand sanitiser, and masks.

Monday: Start the week off strong with an easy, vegetarian three-bean chilli. All you’ll need is one pot, eight ingredients, thirty minutes, and a health insurance plan that at least partially covers cognitive-behavioural therapy. Eco-tip! Use reusable bowls, utensils, and straws, but somehow never wash them because that wastes water. It’s a real Catch-22, which is a book you know well since it was a mandatory read when you were in school.

Tuesday: Normally, Tuesday would be burger night, but there was an anti-mask rally outside the grocery store today, so you couldn’t pick up buns. Then, on the way home, you listened to a podcast about how the industrial meat industry is destroying the Amazon rain forest. Serve veggie burgers wrapped in lettuce, call the French fries “Pommes Frites,” and boom! You’ve got yourself a healthy, classy dinner. Fruit for dessert.

Wednesday: O.K., my son is still pretty mad about the whole fruit-for-dessert thing. No better way to rebound than with a tuna yoghurt sauce and zoodles (zucchini noodles). Tuna because it is high in mercury, and you can’t afford to damage your kids’ brains any more than constant exposure to screens already has. Reality: sub zoodles for real noodles, sub yoghurt for mayo, and then sub the whole thing for pizza.

Thursday: You know those videos in which perfectly manicured moms use the multicoloured batter to make fun cartoon-character pancakes for their delighted children? You don’t know how to do that. Sandwiches.

Friday: T.G.I.F.! Which in this house stands for “Thank God I (bought) Frozen dinners!” Did you know that you can eat frozen dinners for breakfast and lunch, too? It’s true! Plus, your kid(s) will get a decade’s supply of sodium. Chocolate and movie night.

Saturday: Pull out some cereal and sniff the milk. Since time is meaningless, it’s the breakfast-for-dinner night! This one requires almost zero prep, which gives you a few minutes to reflect on how the labour of creating a meal plan and doing all the budgeting, shopping, and cooking takes away from your ability to do other things, like staring at a wall. Hmm, that wall needs some fresh paint! Better just clean it while remembering the birthdays of every member of your immediate and extended family.

Sunday: Time to start planning for next week! Because the weeks never end! They just roll on, oblivious of our attempts at stackable food-storage solutions or our efforts to eat the whole rainbow every day. Yet we continue the strange performance of “planning,” as if playing a sonata on the deck of the Titanic can make people a bit more comfortable while the damn ship is sinking. A futile attempt at control as we slip through chaos into darkness and maybe, finally, into peace. Taco night! With lots of cheese.

The other day, I was putting my almost eight-year-old son to bed, when he turned to me and asked…

“When I grow up, will I have a chin?!

At first, I didn’t know what he was talking about, but then I realized that he knows many men with beards, so he thought his chin would disappear. I explained that he could have a beard or no beard, and either way, he would still have a chin.

I thought my work there was done and was about to head to the living room to read, but his follow-up question was…

“How did I get in your belly?”

Big questions, little man!

Back when I was seven and heard on the school bus about the shocking mechanics of baby-making, I hurried home to ask my mom, and I remember sitting in our cozy kitchen as she told us matter-of-factly how it all worked. And gave us books about this topic to read.

So, I looked around for a few books for Joel, and here’s what I found…

The Baby Tree. This is a beautiful, charming book about a little boy, whose parents reveal over breakfast that they’re expecting another baby. The boy wonders where the baby will come from, and proceeds to ask his babysitter, teacher, mail carrier, and grandpa. They all give him different answers, and when he finally asks his parents, they tell him directly and truthfully (and somewhat abstractly:). It’s really sweet, and I love that the final page of the book addresses more in-depth questions — about adoption, same-sex parents, etc.

Ages 4-8: It’s Not the Stork!
Ages 8-10: It’s So Amazing!
Ages 10 and up: It’s Perfectly Normal

These three books by Robie H. Harris and Michael Emberley are WONDERFUL. They talk about bodies, sex, birth, adoption, different types of families — and for teenagers, puberty, contraception, homosexuality, masturbation, you name it. The books are very open and accepting of kids’ questions and feelings while writing with a warm, direct tone.

Pamela Druckerman wrote a New York Times essay about the inspiring Dutch approach to teaching kids about sex:

Apparently, the Dutch are at the forefront of sex education, and they have little trouble broaching the topic. Parents in the Netherlands have lots of casual age-appropriate talks about sex with their kids, over many years, beginning when children are small.

“If we start with sexuality education when children are teenagers, or even just before they start with any interest in sexuality, I think you are too late,” says Sanderijn van der Doef, a psychologist…“As soon as children have questions, they have the interest, and then they have the right to get a correct answer.”

Dr. Van der Doef says parents should give simple, clear responses. If the child has more questions, he’ll ask. Once he’s 3 or 4, “You can start to explain, in a very simple way, that Mommy has a little egg in her belly, Daddy has very small sperms in his body, and when the sperms meet the egg, a baby grows in the belly of the mother.” Three-year-olds rarely ask how the sperm and egg meet. If they do, “then you have a very smart child at that age, and that means that child needs to have an answer,” she adds.

What about you? Have your little dudes asked about where babies come from? What did you tell them? How did your parents tell you? I’d love to hear… and no, I am not pregnant.

I believe the better the friend, the messier my house will be when she/he leaves.

I believe in listening to a taxi driver (in Vienna) tell me about his runaway daughter, four ex-wives, getting punched in the face last night, and being shot at on three separate occasions, in the time it takes to take me home.

I believe in what goes around comes around, reincarnation, and time travel. And Spiderman.

I believe there should be etiquette manuals called “Don’t wear fishnets stockings to a funeral”.

I believe in a Pulitzer Prize for swearing.

I believe in my brother who can fly a plane to get himself, my son and I safely from Vienna to Bavaria. I will take a parachute though. And a bat-suit for my son…. because it looks cool when we are all going down. 🙂

I believe that my brother will get super pissed about this but we will try to smuggle it on board. And of course we will cheat on the weight scale…..

I believe that instead of the superpower of flight or invisibility, I would like the ability to pick a ripe pear or honey melon.

I believe in buying the next size up because I was not put on this earth to fit into or restrain the largeness of my life.

Nor was I put on this earth to scroll my birth year like a Price is Right wheel, or remember what it was like to be your age.

No, I don’t want to talk to you on the phone while you talk to the barista; or text you when I get there; or wait for you on the corner that’s near there because I am not a prostitute.

I don’t want to grab anything by the horns, or keep it real.

I believe that nothing ages you more than shushing a room.

I believe in myself. I believe I should have put this first on the list.

I believe in a barfing cat home alarm instead of a barking dog.

I believe in emojis like peaches, the eyeroll one, the swear one, and the palm against forehead.

I believe in hole-punching divorce papers to make confetti.

I believe the new corona book clubs are robotic floor cleaner races (all fully vaccinated of course because of the terribly dangerous Delta mutation…… #eyerollemoji)

I believe in being positive and that mood swings suck.

I believe in the magic of lifelong friends.

I believe in Karma.

I believe that someone who takes a (not in a funny way) full Silence of the Lambs Anthony-Hopkins-through-the-psych-ward-looking-glass look at me is weird.

I believe in getting comfortable at Media Markt and play Nintendo Switch with my son for one hour without buying anything. They (covid-related) removed the massage chairs, goddammit. The little pleasures…..

I believe in playing chess with my son (for hours) without getting too angry when he beats me again.

I believe in a good old prank.

I believe in laughing when others are crying.

I believe in backup plans.

I believe in great sex but have you ever been relieved by a colleague at work and were able to go home?

I believe in fair treatment. Deep down, this must exist.

I believe I can sense certain patterns, selections, or promotions.

I believe in being a grown-ass lady.

I believe in having bad habits.

I believe that young kids are exposed too much to the internet. It is a consuming black hole and parents need to pay attention to this.

I believe that anyone who gives forcefully expressive advice about marriage is heading straight to the divorce court. Marriage is about the dance you do together but so many people are disappointed they are not in a lifelong happy relationship. There is no such thing. There are ups and downs. This is called life.

I believe in making people happy, in telling stories and making people laugh.

I believe being really connected to another person is as good as it gets. Candlelight… sex, all the good stuff.

I believe in love. It does exist.