Among my other hang-ups, I have issues with wasting food. I often eat my children's scraps because I have a hard time throwing things away. Now, I can respect that for some people the repeated "clean up your plate" parental harangues are just the thing that scarred them for life. I have already installed a dietary boomerang into my son, who like me is a type O. He loves to go to the Eat n' Park buffet and sit down (after a "smile" towards Mama) with a plate full of croutons, crackers, cheddar cheese, sunflower seeds and black olives (yep, all avoids for Type O.) So, I have realized I need to back off telling my children what they need to do regarding food and help them hear what their bodies are telling them. (And in the meantime, I'll count how many years it will take for my missteps to wear off.)
So, I've found something that makes me happy. Composting.
Instead of fretting over how half my son's vegetables end up on the floor after dinner, I can at least entrust them to our little compost heap and let those tiny little nutrients decay beneficially. In time, we may even transform our clay slab, uh, I mean garden, into a great growing area.
So the food can decay, instead of familial relationships.
At least over this issue.
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