Big Daddy Paul

It is a fact. Kids get dirty. Oh, you can try to stop them from picking up goose poop and then jamming their tiny little fingers in their nose (and then eating the whole mess, something we call the “Canadian Boogie” in our house,) but the truth is, kids are going to explore the world. Sometimes that means getting dirty. The real question is, “How do you deal with it?”

A growing group of parents are dealing with it by sanitizing the shit out of their kids. Each contact with germ laden materials is immediately met with a visit by the hand sanitizer fairy with the hope that a cleaner child is somehow a healthier child. In this world, there is no five second rule and touching anything at the doctor’s office is a strict no-no. Forget about play dates with the snotty kid from school. Germs are the enemy of the people and must be eradicated by any means necessary.

Well, I am here to tell you today that this is all nonsense.

I need a name for this drink

Sure, it’s handy to have a high-alchohol gel on hand to take quick nips from when you desperately need some hair of the dog to combat last night’s festivities, but it’s just not worth it. A recent Slate Article interestingly found that what this 100 million dollar a year industry doesn’t want you to know: these hand sanitizers won’t stop you from getting sick. Worse yet, a recent study found that pervasive use of these products will actually make you sicker later in life. The theory goes: if you expose yourself to germs early on, your body learns how to deal with them. When you don’t, your body struggles with germs later in life (in the same way that people who take up golf later in life suck at it.) Consider early childhood germs the equivalent of locking your child in a closet with a box of cigars so that they will think smoking is a disgusting activity. The kicker is that, since sanitizers can’t kill all of the bacteria, the bacteria that survive become resistant to anti-bacterials and become something totally frightening called “super bugs.” There’s only one place in this world where “super bugs” should be allowed and that’s in a smash up derby.

In light of all this, we have made a conscious decision to expose Malcolm to as much filth as possible. In China, we smiled when he grabbed a lollipop from a local kid and licked it, and smiled even more when he dropped it on the ground (in Tianenmen Square, mind you) and then plopped it back it his mouth. If he starts licking the backs of seats on an airplane, we call it, “character building.”  We don’t have a five second rule. In fact, we slow cook meals on the hood of the car. If it’s true that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” Malcolm will become a bodybuilder (until he dies of E.Coli exposure.)

Oh sure, we tell Malcolm to wash his hands after pooping in the middle of dinner, but we don’t sweat the small stuff. Germs are everywhere, and each disgusting lollipop he eats is one bug that won’t get him later in life. One day he’ll figure out on his own that there are places his tongue doesn’t belong, but only because it’s embarrassing and not unhealthy. So let your kids give eskimo kisses to the snotty kid and at school, and if one day your kid’s  sandwich accidentally falls into a homeless person’s shoe, let it slide. They’ll be better off for it. We don’t carry around a diaper bag anymore, but, even if we did, it wouldn’t have Purell in it. No need to, it’s in the flask!

I have, recently, begun to concentrate on where our food comes from. Now, I know what you are going to say, “When one carrot and another carrot love each other very much…” No, not that part. I am talking about where in the world our food is grown. Why do you ask? Let me tell ya.

Food travels, on average, 1500 miles from the farm it is grown on to your plate. That means every time I eat an “average” meal, it is like I traveled to Denver to eat it. Yikes! I don’t even like Denver, why would I want to eat all my meals there? Needless to say, a lot of fossil fuels are burned by the planes, trains and automobiles to get broccoli and raspberries to my house. In order to accommodate this rigorous travel schedule, growers select plants that can withstand brutal harvesting techniques and survive for longer on the shelf. (If you ask me, they should select plants that are tasty. I picked Amy as a spouse because she is fun and hot, not because she can hike and doesn’t bruise easily!) All this is done so that large, multinational corporations take your money at the grocery store and spend it on corporate retreats in the Caribbean. It all sounds pretty fishy to me.

There is a better way, though. Eat locally! For those of you lucky enough to live in California, there are tons of easy ways to ensure that you eat food that is produced close by. For those of you in Montana, you are stuck with Moose Jerky and Huckleberries (Hey, I didn’t tell you to live there!) We have selected a company that gathers local, organic fruits and veggies and drops them off in a box at our house every week. The veggies are in season, perfectly ripe, and delicious. Since we get a large box, I broaden my culinary horizons and fit the meal around what is in season, rather than fitting the season around what I want to eat. I also have started paying attention to where food I buy in the grocery store comes from. So now, I buy the organic, California grown tomatillos instead of the ones grown in mexico. What’s a tomatillo? Here you go!

Buying locally does many things. It cuts down on fossil fuel use. It keep your food money in the community, so that we can tax the hell out of it. Farmers are a bit odd, so it is likely that they will use this money for strange things like tractor cozies or pig lipstick. Buying locally will also prevent the countryside from turning into one giant housing development and strip mall. In short, buying local produce will solve all the world’s problems and make your sex life better.

I saw that someone who ordered a local, organic produce box compared the price of the box to that of produce bought at a major supermarket, and found that the local organic produce was cheaper (on average $.20 of your food dollar goes to growers, the rest is spent on packaging, distribution and marketing, not to mention CEO salaries). I can’t vouch for that, but I do know that I have really enjoyed the locally produced meals I have been making a lot more. Isn’t that all that really matters? At the very least, it beats eating in Denver.