They’re Not Born “Green”

—by Anne Holzman

We were slipping already, but the third baby’s arrival really pushed us over the cliff: paper plates, clothes in the dryer, vegetable peelings mixed with foil-printed wrapping paper (used only once) and dispatched to the refuse burner.

Cloth diapers? Not with two kids using them. Homemade baby food? Only if baby is willing to eat a ground-up version of one of the three entirely discrete meals I’m already preparing for the toddler, the preschooler, and myself.

Worst of all, we no longer fit in a plain old car, hybrid or otherwise. Nope, we signed the papers for a used minivan right around the time that last round of adoption papers got under way.

Not only have we been polluting the planet our children will inherit, but we’ve also been setting a lousy example. We value a “green” lifestyle, but it would be hard to tell that from a casual look around our home.

I worked out a highfalutin excuse: Children construct their own knowledge, therefore it will be good for them to discover that they’re living in a brownfield and teach their parents how to go green. I figured I had at least until the first one hit third grade before I’d get nagged into reforming my ways.

But as they grow (and as I occasionally find myself waking up rested in the morning), it’s getting easier to teach by example. They can reach the switch in order to turn out the light. They can twist the—by Anne Holzman faucet far enough—and in the correct direction—to shut off the water. They eat something other than macaroni and cheese out of a box.

And mainly, they spend time around adults with more energy and commitment than their dad and I can muster. Our synagogue, their schools, and the neighborhood spots we visit are all weighing in with encouragement to do the right thing.

As a general principle, I avoid shopping with my kids. But they need to know where their food is coming from, and even though we’re devoted CSA members and farmers' market visitors, shopping at stores is an important link.

I bless every fellow Hampden Park Co-op shopper who has handed my fussy kid an apple, waited while the oatmeal was scooped one grain at a time, or looked the other way when more shampoo wound up outside the bottle than inside. Unaccountably, people actually smile when they can’t get past us in the aisles.

I’ve had a cashier cleverly weigh an avocado in place of the half-eaten plum clutched in a one-year-old’s hand, been treated to the most amazing comedy routines from strangers who just can’t stand to see her cry, and had doors held for me and shopping carts returned for me by more people than I could ever thank.

And there are no cartoony cereals or candy aisles to get past on the way out the door; even the treats are good for them.

My kids won’t learn about the importance of organic farming and whole foods just by walking through the aisles, but at least they’ll start out associating those things with kindness and good humor. And as they begin to construct their knowledge about food, who could ask for better building blocks?

[HPC member Anne Holzman is an at-home mom of three as well as a freelance writer and editor.]