By: Sarah Thompson
Updated: Feb. 23, 2016
Originally Published: Sep. 26, 2012
Growing up in a vibrant town like Eugene, Oregon, it’s no surprise I developed some free-spirited habits. My childhood snacks included yogurt topped with wheat germ and cookies made from carob and zucchini. I never intended to become an overly health-conscious mom, but one day, I found myself scrutinizing my every choice and feeling inadequate for not being strict enough.
We frequented the local farmer’s market, said goodbye to high fructose corn syrup, and diluted juice to lessen the sugar content. I opted for grass-fed beef and hormone-free milk. As our family expanded from one child to three, I invested in BPA-free containers and reusable fabric snack bags. To keep things relatable, I allowed one Capri Sun alongside a stainless steel water bottle—just a touch of normalcy.
Then, I stumbled upon alarming articles about BPA-free containers leaching harmful chemicals. My self-righteousness crumbled. “What do you mean they’re leaching chemicals?” I had tossed out my old plastic wares and embraced the BPA-free lifestyle with enthusiasm. I thought I was making safe choices.
Shortly thereafter, the hormone-free deli meat I had proudly bought was recalled. Somehow, I had convinced myself that by spending more and following the “better” path, my kids would be shielded from harm. “No carcinogens here,” I believed. But reality hit hard.
So, I decided: metal and glass it is! But glass can break, and metal has its downsides too. Paper? Nah. Plastic? Forget it. Just let them indulge.
I’m waving the white flag. I’m done. I’m exhausted from hunting down paraben-free shampoos and buying organic peppers that spoil before I even get them home. I’m tired of my kids watching their friends enjoy fruit snacks while mine suffer through “healthier” versions that draw scrunched noses and apologetic looks.
At this point, I realize it’s not the grocery bill that’s the biggest concern—it’s my sanity. I can’t keep worrying about whether their lunches are homemade enough, whether the containers are safe, or if the food is pure. The cost of a frazzled, short-tempered, and overly critical mom is far greater than the occasional sip of milk with rbST or a snack pouch containing a bit of HFCS.
A wise friend reminded me, “At the end of the day, your kids go to school with food in hand.” What a relief! This school year, I’m approaching things differently—not because I love my children any less, but because I love them enough to know I need to relax. So, let’s raise our juice boxes and pre-packaged snack bags and toast to a new school year filled with acceptance and ease. It’s all going to be just fine.
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In summary, parenting doesn’t have to be perfect. Embracing the messiness and allowing flexibility can lead to a happier home and healthier relationships.