Sugar Has No Daily Value?

A week or so ago, I read an article at MomSpark about Lucky Charms — the cereal, not the amulets.  Amy was discussing their nutritional value and all after having received a free box to try from General Mills.  Happily, I did not need to petition General Mills for my own box. I simply had to grab the almost empty one from my cabinet.  I’ve chosen to ignore the (I’m sure) exorbitant amount of sugar present and go with the good-for-you whole grain and host of other vitamins that are showcased on the side of the box corresponding to great percentages of DVs. Yep, the Charms have long been a favorite in my house.  And, frankly, I like sugar.

After reading, I decided to take a closer look at my box and enjoy a nice pat on the back at my nutritional accumen while scarfing some pink diamonds and green clover.  As I scanned the handy nutritional panel, one phrase stopped me in my tracks.  There it was in the bright blue “Nutritional Highlights” box, like some kind of universal cosmic disclaimer.

Did you catch it there?  Like me, I’m sure you tried to deny it’s existence or at the very least ignore it.  But, still it’s right there in the last line:

“Sugar does not have a daily value.”

GenMills and the USDA clearly don’t reside in the deep South.  Granted, in my corner of the kitchen table, sugar may have a slightly different meaning than the chrystaline white stuff we generally load up our iced tea with.  For the unindoctrinated, “sugar” is synonymous with “kisses” down here.  Circle that one in your Southern for Dummies Handbook.  “Sugar” is something you get off your children–usually accompanied by an “I’m gonna get me some,” as if there were a finite amount laying right there on their plump cheeks for the taking.  “Sugar” is also something it’s polite to request–as in, “Gimme some sugar,” or sometimes while referring to yourself in third person like “Give Mama some sugar,” as if there were an endless supply of the good stuff just waiting to be doled out.

For boys, I’ve noticed, sugar giving is one of those situations where spitting is optional.  Now, in defiance of my Southern roots, if it’s up to me, spitting is hardly ever an option.  So, to include it as some sort of souped up, tricked out sugar accessory is a pretty big step for me.  That said, given the option, my little guys tend to vote with the slobbery sugar side of the issue. I don’t know if that’s a Southern version of high fructose corn syrup, or what.

Yep, I’m guilty as charged.  I tend to try to “get me” and “gimme” some sugar off Little Drummer Boy, Squiggle and Baby Girl as much as Mommyly possible.  I suppose that’s what prompted LDB to invent the “Hug Store” and the “Kiss Store” to allow himself some legitimate control over the distribution of sugar, thereby getting Mommy off his back, or cheek as the case may be.  So, I am now subject to random sugar rations as the mood and trips to the Kiss Store strike.  Woe is Mommy.

It was during one such rationing that I got into a discussion with LDB about wisdom, which of course, should naturally be a part of any honest dialogue on the giving and getting of sugar.  Since the early Fall, Little Drummer Boy has been involved in his first little extra-curricular activity (yes, his preschool life does have a curriculum, be it ever so fluid).  He’s been a part of the AWANA program at the church where he goes to daycare.  If you don’t know much about the program, check it out here.  I highly recommend it as a fun way for children as young as 2 or 3 to begin learning Bible verses.  LDB has really enjoyed it, and we’ve been amazed at how quickly he can learn the verses and retain them.  Look into this and take advantage of the sponge years to fill your baby’s mind with some truth!  That was for free.  Now, back to sugar.  And wisdom.

So, I breezed by the breakfast table as LDB and Hub were finishing work on one of his AWANA verses.  I can’t quite remember the status of the plates, but I’m sure there was probably some remnant of poptart and a pile of Lucky Charms–heavy on the charms, not so much lucky.  Little Drummer Boy recited the verse for me:

“Jesus grew in wisdom” [Hark! 252 fans]

Mommy: “Good job! Mommy wants you to grow in wisdom, too.”
LDB: Quizzical look.
Mommy: “Wisdom is learning to do good things, the best things.” (Ok, maybe not the most astute explanation in the world, but give me a break.  I was thinking on my feet while hopped up on purple horseshoes.)
LDB: “Yes, good things.”
Mommy: “Good things are like using our kind words, sharing, taking care of Squiggle…”
LDB: “Well… (pause here for effect) I think a good thing is… (additional pause for effect)
KISSES.”

Well, I’ll be.  It seems he has grown in wisdom just like Mommy wanted–at least where kisses are concerned.
Sugar has no daily value?  Harumph. I beg to differ, people.

FaceBook Addiction :\

Yes, it’s just another obsessive episode in the life of the Junkie.  I’m on FaceBook now.  I joined over a year ago, but have been resisting.  Finally I gave in to the request for friendship from a pal in Kentucky sent via Super FaceBook Guy.

I’m thinking that Super FaceBook Guy is really WordPress Dude’s super-hero alter ego.  That WordPress gig is just his clever cyber disguise.  Quiet, unassuming WordPress Dude, twirling his unsuspecting Mark Twain mustache and handling the two or three [!] EyeJunkie alerts each week, leaps into action when the inevitable barrage of FaceBook cyber connections call.  Yep, he dons (a word I learned back in the day from “Deck the Halls” — fa la la!) his trusty cape and organizes all my acquaintances to keep the communication flowing — sort of a combination Franklin-Covey-wishes-he-were-me day planner and souped up shipping and receiving I’m-better-than-FedEx hub for instant delivery of friendship.  What would I do without Super FaceBook Guy there to maintain my wall?  Yep, after he completes his meager WordPress Dude duties, and cops a squat at StarBucks for a large latte, he heads on over to FaceBook admin-central to burn up the bandwidth.  Social networking citizens, rest easy. Super FaceBook Guy never sleeps!  

Clearly, I digress.

So, I’ve been on FaceBook.  I finally added a profile picture (the same one I use everywhere) and even posted a few photos of my kids.  I’ve updated my “status” a few times, sent my friends milk and cookies and holiday cheer, and written on a couple of walls.  I’ve reconnected with my childhood next-door neighbor, a friend from high school, friends from college and even a good friend in my neighborhood.  

What!?!  I live within walking distance of her house, and the first time I’ve seen her THIS YEAR, I think, is on FaceBook.  It gives me pause.  It may be ridiculous and sad, but in the world we’ve built around ourselves, it’s reality.  To our credit, my friend and I are moving up the cyber food chain.  FaceBook friendship has led to actual correspondence via personal email accounts.  At some point, in the time between putting our respective families to bed, cooking and doing dishes and having conversations with the people who actually live in our houses with us, we may break down and share a phone call. For now, we are planning an actual face-to-face meeting–in person, at something like a restaurant where we will actually see one another beyond the frozen profile expression.  I’m thinking that we might even partake of that antiquated gesture, the hug.  SuperPoke that!

Anyway, I’m giving in to the trend.  It’s fun.  The connections are different, but they’re connections.  Whatever it takes, I say!  Carry on my fellow FaceBook addicts, go forth and befriend!

Gift Tag: The Hug Store

Little Drummer Boy (my 3 1/2 year old) and I have a little game that goes something like this…

Mommy:  Do you have a hug for me today?
LDB: No. (said with a giggle)
Mommy: Oh no!  I need a hug.  Don’t you have one for me?
LDB:  No. (more giggling)
Mommy:  Do you have one in your pocket?
LDB:  (extended pause)  Ummm. Yes.
And, he pulls an imaginary hug out of his pocket and gives it to me.  Nice.

Sometimes…

Mommy: Are you sure you don’t have a hug for me?  I really need a hug this morning.
LDB: But, I have one at school.
Mommy:  You have it at school?
LDB:  Yes. (said with a giggle)
Mommy:  Are you going to bring it home for me?
LDB: Yes.
Mommy:  I wish I had a hug right now.
LDB: But, I don’t have any more hugs.
He usually relents and somehow finds one before he heads out the door.

There are a hundred variations.  Sometimes the game translates to a request for his “special” kisses–the ones that aren’t just a peck, but all slobber and giggles.  My usual response is “Oooh, I’m going to keep that all day long.”  It’s the dance we do.  And, I’m a willing participant.  I relish the process because I know one day (way before I’m ready) I’ll have to do a lot more begging that that to get a hug from my big man.  One day he’ll be the one leaning down for the hug instead of me.

One morning this week, the game took a slightly different turn…

Mommy:  You’re out of hugs?  But, I really wanted a hug.  Can you get another one?
LDB:  Yes, I can get one.  From The Hug Store.
Where does he get this stuff?  Laughter ensued from Mommy and Daddy, which made Little Drummer Boy giggle, too.  And, of course, I gave him a shake-down to find the one last hug hidden deep inside after all.

The Hug Store.  Talk about your retail therapy.
Who am I kidding?  What he’s offering, money can’t buy!

Gift Tags are the tiny messages God continues to include with our gifts — 2 little joys of boys and 1 little jewel of a girl, each with open eyes, open ears, open hearts, and much to teach. “Behold children are a gift of the Lord…” (psalm 127:1)

Gift Tag: Mommy’s Lap

My little Drummer Boy did not get a nap today.  It was day 7 in one of those weeks.  There has been a lot of excitement around our house.  Last Monday I went for my weekly doctor visit to check on Miss Baby M, and he decided it would be time to induce us at 38 weeks.  That means that when I go to the doctor tomorrow, we’ll find out what day THIS week our baby “seester” will make her arrival.

We’ve been scrambling around, getting all manner of pink baby items, and putting the semi-finishing touches on the nursery.  Mommy’s been working from home instead of going to the office, and getting more uncomfortable by the minute.  Daddy’s been taking over a few more parts of the daily routine than he had already taken over.  Little Drummer Boy and Baby Squiqqle Man have been slam dancing between spontaneous tears, random throwing of toys, mini tantrums and the sweetest blown kisses, slobbered kisses and hugs they’ve been holding in their pockets all day you’ve ever seen.  We know that confusion and insecurity are running rampant.  We know that even though Little Drummer Boy has an amazing vocabulary for which we can take no credit and Squiggle Man knows way more words than we give him credit for, they can rarely articulate what is really going on inside.  We’ve been watching, asking questions, guessing, soul-searching, and giving it a try for quite a few months now–go back to watching and repeat ad infinitum.  Change is hard, no matter how many years you have under your belt.

My Little Drummer Boy has had an extra dose of change lately.  Two weeks ago, he moved up to a new preschool class–new teachers, new schedules, still not wanting to put his tee tee in the potty, but everybody talking about it.  One week ago, he started his first “extra-curricular” activity–an AWANA “Cubbies” club where he’s meeting new friends, more new teachers, and learning Bible verses (doing a great job, I might add!)  Plus, he actually knows what it means to anticipate being a new big brother.  He’s already done it once.

So, he didn’t get a nap today.  That means he was practically falling asleep at dinner, and I was putting him in bed early.  We read our books, found our blanket and puppy, turned on the music and listened to Mommy sing.  I thought he would fall asleep while I rubbed his back, but then it began:

Drummer: “Mommy…”

Me: “Mmmm Hmmm?”

Drummer: “I want to sit in your lap.”

Ok, I’m paying attention now.  Requesting to sit in my lap is uncommon these days now that he’s such a BIG 3-year-old– usually reserved for “bo bo” comfort or coersion (read bribery) from Mommy.  I knew this did not bode well for a speedy bedtime, but it was a treat I couldn’t pass up.

He climbed over in my lap, which Miss Baby M has shrunk considerably at this point.  Aside from some of my mandatory hugs, he didn’t cuddle or put his head on my shoulder.  He was content just to sit.  Then, he looked at me and smiled–a couple of times.

Me: “Why are you smiling?”

Drummer: “I’m happy.”

Me: “Why are you happy?”

Drummer: “I’m happy for you, Mommy.”

Me: “Why are you happy for me?”

Drummer: “I’m sitting in your lap.”

It was a crystal clear moment.  I saw deep into his heart, and was dumbfounded by how little it took to get there.  I knew he meant he was happy ABOUT being in my lap.  It was instantaneous security, peace, clarification, and love for him.  I told him how proud I was of him, how thankful we were on the day he was born, what a good big brother he was, and how much bigger Mommy’s lap would be in just a few more days.  And, just as quickly, the moment was gone. My Little Drummer Boy “wasn’t tired” anymore, and we would live to convince him otherwise in another hour or so.

“Teach us to number our days, that we may present to Thee a heart of wisdom.” (psalm 90:12)

Yes, it was a crystal clear moment.  One that underscored a realization that there is no better barometer of wise priorities than to center ourselves in this moment in this place to do what counts most–even if it’s just postponing bedtime for a little laptime.  Although, my Little Drummer Boy misused his preposition, I was actually happy FOR me.  It was instantaneous peace, clarification and love.  I saw deep into my own heart, and was dumbfounded again by the recognition that the best of my whole world can be found in the space of just a few rooms.

Gift Tags are the tiny messages God continues to include with our gifts — 2 little boys and the anticipation of 1 little girl, each with open eyes, open ears, open hearts, and much to teach. “Behold children are a gift of the Lord…” (psalm 127:1)

Gift Tag: Lessons in Recklessness

I was sitting on the floor of the living room–not necessarily an easy task at the moment with a 7-months pregnant belly out to there–and 18 months of pure squiggle (a squeal-fueled giggle) energy were coming at me full steam.

Running at maximum toddler capacity, my little guy flung himself into my arms with a resounding super squeal.  I gave him a little squeeze, a big “I love you,” and a few cheek nibbles as the various oversized wooden screws in his hands made contact with eyeglasses, ears, nose, etc.  Then, it was full steam back to the wall at the other side of the room to start again.

We repeated the process more times than I can count, with my little guy alternating between Mommy and a left detour to give Daddy a turn.

Full steam.  Turbo drive.  Volume 10.
That’s how my little 18-month-old gift does everything.  He’s on a personal mission to prove that no matter what you do, you can have more fun and be more successful at it if you are also squiggling at the top of your lungs!

Despite the household craziness his approach sometimes creates, I often find myself just soaking it up.  He’s reckless, giving himself completely over to whatever he’s feeling at the moment–whether it’s the trying times of hurt feelings, frustration that a toy won’t work right and disappointment at hearing “no” or the joyful times of shouting newly-learned words, a full speed, fully squiggled chase with brother and the ever-popular hug episodes described above.  There’s no doubt that whatever it is, he’s completely abandoned himself to it.

It want to cultivate that caliber of freedom, to act without hesitation when I feel strongly about something.  Or, to elevate the mundane to that level of love, joy and excitement.  I can imagine it most powerfully chrystalized in that moment of an 18-month-old flinging himself into Mommy’s arms.  No reservations.  No holding back.  No fear.  Just pure joy and pure love.

It reminds me of another love:
“In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our sin, according to the riches of His grace which He lavished on us.” (Ephesians 1:7-8)

Can I be the one to fling myself without fear into the Father’s arms and bathe in His lavish love and grace?

Can I open up my arms and receive the one in need, ready to give His lavish love and grace in human form?

I hope so.

Gift Tags are the tiny messages God continues to include with our gifts — 2 little boys and the anticipation of 1 little girl, each with open eyes, open ears, open hearts, and much to teach. “Behold children are a gift of the Lord…” (psalm 127:1)