Granola

I secretly wish I were a Granola Mom.

You know the kind…she grows and mills her own wheat to make her own bread. She can make an entire 5 course meal just from beans. She owns a loom. Her kids will try any kind of food. She is a great mother, who doesn’t mind messes.

Sadly, I am not this mom. I don’t have a creative bone in my body. I say this a lot and usually I hear one of two responses:

“You dance!” I USED to dance…and it was choreographed. I didn’t make it up.

“You cross-stitch!” Really people? A chimp could cross-stitch; the only skill it takes is patience.

I don’t want to imply that I doubt myself as an individual or as a mother…I don’t…usually. Rather I see the traits of a Granola Mom desirable to me. I wish I had the knack for whipping up delicious healthy meals with an odd collection of leftovers. I wish that I knew how to create something beautiful and useful from random scraps of paper or fabric.

Mostly, I wish I had a greater tolerance for messes. Usually I like this about myself, everything has a place and everything in its place, but sometimes it’s disruptive. There are nights when I can’t sleep because I know there is a mess waiting for me in the morning. My husband’s “little piles” of pocket contents….make me crazy. Dumped toy boxes and unmade beds actually make me feel stressed. Permanent stains….I don’t even want to think about it.

So I need a book, or something, to guide me into being a Granola Mom. One that lays out simple steps and changes you can make. A book that includes a map and instructions to my local farmer’s market would be ideal….one that has a 10-Step Rehabilitation program for Neat-Nicks.