Between the hours out of my day for work and the cumulative effect of 8 months of sleep deprivation and little exercise, I’ve barely been functional lately. The little shortcuts like boxed potatoes or take-out pizza end up being the difference-makers, the safety margin between sanity and its dark alternative. I am re-appreciating the challenges and dilemmas that working parents face when trying to be fully conscious of the implications of their activity. It’s just too freakin’ hard!
I know there are families out there who manage to pull it off somehow. They don’t have a car, or they don’t eat meat, or they’re off the grid, or something guilt-inducing. I don’t know how they do it, because I don’t have time to study them. Heck, I don’t even know what we’re having for dinner tonight. It’s a far cry from a few months ago, when I had the week’s menu planned out in advance.
You know what, though? I’m okay with it right now. That’s new and different for me too. What we’re going through “is what it is,” and it’s all part of The Great Experiment. We’re keeping the lawn mowed, the bills paid, and the pantry stocked. I’ll report on things as time permits, and we’ll get to see how well a really busy, low-income family fares with trying to eat more locally, affordably, and sustainably. Can we have all three, or not?