Saturday, January 10, 2009

Strawberry ice cream rapture

Now that I've posted a non-food related blog, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to return to my current all-consuming passion.  No, silly.  Not Shane.  Ice cream!

Haven't you learned?

Now, normally I'm a buy in season sort of girl, but I just can't get over my strawberry-almond smoothie addiction.  Thankfully, Trader Joe's sell 16 oz. packages of organic strawberries at $2.69 a pack.  We go through three or four a week and I figured it was time to put my ice cream maker to the test. 

There is nothing I love more than a good strawberry ice cream.  Unfortunately, after learning that strawberry ice cream is flavored with a solvent, I haven't been able to look at a pint without shuddering. 

Enter Ellie's fourth birthday andCuisinart.  She specifically asked for chicken noodle soup (a perfect opportunity to try my hand at homemade egg noodles), 'ferganic (organic and yes, she insisted it be organic) bread, cupcakes she could decorate herself with her nifty little cupcake decorator and strawberry ice cream. 

I didn't follow a recipe, but the resulting product inspired visions of summer and rapturous sighs. I'm rather embarrassed to tell you that I licked every spoon, bowl and kitchen aid mixer attachment clean.  I didn't save one bit for Shane...and I am nearly as passionate for him as I am ice cream.


Rapturous strawberry ice cream

Defrost one 16 oz. bag frozen organic strawberries.  Organic berries will taste fresher and better than conventional.  Trust me on this.

Puree in blender.

Place in mixer with two egg yolks (from pastured hens), 2 cups raw or non-homogenized, lightly pasteurized organic heavy cream, 1/4 cup agave nectar, 1/4 cup maple syrup, 1 Tb. arrowroot powder* and a pinch of salt.  Mix thoroughly. 

Place mixture in ice cream maker and process according to directions.  Transfer to container and freeze at least four hours before serving...if you can resist that long.

 There you have it.  Easy.  Quick.  Heavenly.  As a bonus, it is solvent free.

 * Arrowroot powder is a healthy, unrefined alternative to cornstarch.  It works beautifully as a thickening agent in gravies and puddings.  In ice cream it prevents crystallization.   Arrowroot is available at well-stocked grocery stores and health food stores.

Res⋅o⋅lu⋅tion: the mental state or quality of being resolved or resolute; firmness of purpose

The holidays are over.  The cookies are eaten.  The Christmas tree is on the curb- or perhaps in the basement- and it is again safe to go to the mall.  The end of the holiday season is marked by regret or, for some, relief.  After a month of Christmas music, frenzied baking marathons and days of rearranging the house so that new toys have a home, I usually find myself limp, exhausted and slightly heavier.

It doesn’t take long for a realization to perk me up, though. 
It’s a new year! 

Time to make a resolution.

It’s no secret that I am a list-maker, organizer and chronic self-improver.

A resolution is right up there with starting a new diet, learning a difficult craft or implementing a painful exercise regime.  Resolutions are almost as enjoyable as organizing my spice drawer or reading a 300 page book on the benefits of lacto-fermented foods.  I’m sure your internal voice is reading that sarcastically.  Please, don’t.  I really do enjoy those things…just as I enjoy making resolutions.

I love beginnings.  I love the challenge of mastering something.  Unfortunately, once mastered I become bored.  That leaves me with a dusty treadmill in the basement, a stack of ethnic recipe books, nine unfinished novels and exactly three knitted scarves.

This year I’m doing something different. 

Forget about reshaping my upper arms, learning a new language or forcing Shane to give me voice lessons.

I’m going to do some housecleaning.
No, not that kind of housecleaning.  That’s been done…repeatedly.

I’m talking about the spiritual kind. 

Most Christians know Corinthians 13- the “love” chapter.

After all the flowery, heartfelt declarations of what love is there comes a verse many people skim over.


When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things.

1 Corinthians 13:11

Now is the perfect time for some introspection. 

Come on.  It’s not that hard.  Sit down somewhere comfy, grab a steaming cup of jasmine tea (or coffee) and think about the previous year.  What childish sin issues do you see crop up again and again?

Be brutally honest.  Despite what your mother told you, God is the only one that can hear your thoughts.

Does a pattern of immaturity emerge? 

Do you find yourself slipping into gossip?  Greed?  Fear?

Have you dishonored your parents or pastor?

Do you lose your temper with your children or your patience with your spouse?

Do you hold onto grievances and refuse to extend forgiveness?

Your secrets are safe from public display.  However, one of the drawbacks of being a writer is that my secrets are fodder for essays and blogs.  I have no qualms about being an example.

Despite my wonderful husband, beautiful children, healthy body and many hobbies, I find myself complaining…often. 
Actually, it’s quite embarrassing when you think about the horrific things I’ve seen.

Children dying of cancer near Chernobyl.

Lepers begging for money- and perhaps a touch- in Bangalore.

A prostitute being beaten by a pimp in New York City.

Native Americans forgotten by the country in South Dakota.

And yet, despite these things, I still manage to complain about our inability to afford a mini-van.  I complain about my saggy couch.  I complain about my kitchen being too small, my calves being too big, my husband’s car being too messy (well, really about my husband being too messy) the neighbor’s being too close, and Shane’s grandparent’s being too far. I complain about not being able to perfect a tour jete, still living in Ohio, and the fact that Whole foods does not carry grass-fed beef anymore. 

You get the point.

In my immaturity I have developed a habit of sin that is degrading the life God has blessed me with.  Instead of offering effusive thanks, I snub my nose and tell  Him it isn’t good enough.

Do you do that when you compare your neighbors brand new SUV with your twelve-year-old Chevy?

Do you do that when you look at your aging husband and wish for someone with a six-pack and hair?

Do you do that when you malign your sister in Christ or criticize the elder’s decisions?

Each of us can think of an attitude or two we have that is immature.

This new year let’s not only put away a list of superficial resolutions, let’s also put away a childish behavior or two.





Tuesday, December 16, 2008

I scream for ice cream!

Last weekend, my husband proved to me his devotion and love. In a blizzard he drove to Kentucky and picked up an object necessary to life…an ice cream maker.
Ice cream is, quite possibly, one of life’s greatest indulgences.
The creamy-cold frozen treat can charm the bleakest moment into joy.
It enhances celebrations and solidifies memories.
I had been eyeing the Cuisinart ice cream maker for over a year, but at $50 I couldn’t really justify the expense until I discovered the mind-numbingly delicious Graeter’s coconut chip. I’ve always turned my nose up at Ohio’s food “scene.” Buckeyes, Cincinnati “chili” (which, in my not so humble opinion looks like greasy dog food) and Larosa’s (which taste like the pizza I had in Ukraine) did absolutely nothing for me.

Try to understand.

I am from New York, where bagels are chewy and yeasty. Where pizza crust splits down the middle when you fold it (listen up, Cincinnatians. You are not supposed to eat pizza with a fork unless it is Sicilian style!) and where you can find a deli, Greek restaurant and zeppole on every corner. So, I wasn’t expecting much the first time I had Graeter’s.
Imagine my surprise when I tasted the creamy, custardy dessert chock-full of chocolate “chips” the size of my spoon.
The only problem with Graeter’s is that it is almost $5 a pint. After six months of “the girls are in bed. I’m going to run to Kroger and pick up some coconut chip” excursions, the Cuisinart became justified. Even more so when I found one on Craigslist for $10!
I eagerly contacted the seller- trying not to sound too excited in case he didn’t realize that a once used Cuisinart ice cream maker is worth way more than the cost of 2 ½ pints of Graeters.
That Saturday morning I woke Shane up and told him he needed to go pick up my ice cream maker. It was snowing (hmmm…maybe the value of an ice cream maker goes down mid-winter) and I hate driving in the snow...actually, had it been June I still would have made him go because I hate driving period.

He didn’t grumble.

He took a shower, got dressed, grabbed a banana and headed out the door.

"You can take my car,” I generously offered. “It might be warmer and more comfortable than yours.”
That was an understatement. Shane’s car is a twenty year old, neon-blue “junk drawer.” In case of an accident, the refurbished computers, Chipotle wrappers and three years worth of coffee cups could become deadly projectile weapons.
“That’s okay. I’d rather you have the car in case you need to go out.”
What a gem.
I smiled, kissed him and sent him on his way.
Two hours later he called and told me he was stuck in an accident on 275 and hadn’t moved in an hour.
An hour and half later he was home with my glowing gift from heaven.
I was up the entire first night (and half of the second) concocting recipes and dreaming of miles of rainbow-hued sherbets and shiny pillows of chocolate-studded treats.
Below is one of them.
Of course, I use raw cream but if you aren’t able or willing to secure raw dairy you can find gently pasteurized, non-homogonized cream milked from grass-fed cows at most Whole foods. The ice cream calls for raw egg yolks. Most ice cream recipes instruct you to bring the eggs and cream to a boil but I don’t do that because boiling $8 worth of raw cream would be pointless and expensive. If you choose to use the eggs raw, make sure you use local eggs made from pastured chickens.
Ice cream, when homemade and depending on your views on healthy eating, can be a fulfilling and healthy snack. Fulfilling, because ice cream made from cream and eggs satisfies in only one scoop rather than three bowls of the low-fat, conventional stuff that doesn’t even contain cream (creamless ice cream is up there with meatless meatballs.)
Healthy, because you can substitute unprocessed and natural sweeteners for sugar and use organic, fresh ingredients that are wholesome and created by God- not a lab in Iowa.
What are some of those ingredients? Let’s have a looksee…

(Keep in mind that manufacturers are not required by law to list the additives used in the manufacturing of their products so you won’t find these ingredients on the label of your chunky monkey.)

Diethylglycol: An inexpensive chemical used as an emulsifier instead of eggs. Also used in antifreeze and paint remover.
Piperonal: Used in place of vanilla. The chemical is used to kill lice.
Aldehyde C-17: Used as cherry flavoring. It is an inflammable liquid also used in aniline dyes, plastic and rubber.
Ethyl Acetate: Used as pineapple flavoring (SEE RECIPE BELOW!) It is also used as a leather and textile cleaner. Its vapors have been known to cause chronic lung, liver and heart damage.
Butraldehyde: Used in nut flavored ice creams. It is one of the ingredients in rubber cement.
Amyacetate: Used as banana flavoring. It is also used as an oil paint solvent.
Benzyl Acetate: Used as strawberry flavoring. It is a nitrate solvent.

These ingredients are in addition to the listed ones. Partially hydrogenated oils, high fructose corn syrup and dry milk solids. What ever happened to cream, eggs and sugar? (I would bet sugar, in all its evilness, is less threatening than those ingredients. It may be processed and stripped of its original goodness, but at least it’s real!)

The next time you have a yen for a scoop of ice cream skip the antifreeze, lice killer and leather cleaner and whip up a batch yourself…or at least pick up a container of organic ice cream with pronounceable words and edible ingredients.

Tropical ice cream cake

Layers of ginger cookie crust, coconut sorbet and pineapple-agave ice cream and lemon whipped cream.

Coconut sorbet

2 cans 14 oz whole coconut milk
1 ½ cups shredded, unsweetened coconut
¾ cup evaporated cane juice crystals

Combine ingredients and bring to a boil, stirring until sugar is dissolved.
Remove from heat and cool. Chill completely in fridge.
Pour into ice cream maker and process according to directions. Transfer to freezer container and freeze at least four hours before serving.

Pineapple-agave ice cream

3 egg yolks
½ cup raw agave nectar
1 Tb. pure vanilla extract
1 Tb. Arrowroot
3 cups heavy cream, preferably raw and NOT ultra pasteurized
1 15 oz. can pineapple, drained and crushed

Beat egg yolks and blend in remaining ingredients. Pour into ice cream maker and process according to directions. Five minutes before finished add pineapple. Transfer to freezer container and freeze at least four hours before serving.

Lemon whipped cream

Chill bowl and beater prior to whipping.
1 cup chilled heavy cream (again, raw is best)
2 Tb. Evaporated can juice crystals
1 Tb. finely grated lemon peel
2 ts. lemon juice

Combine ingredients and beat with electric mixer until soft peaks form.

Ginger cookie crust

Okay, I cheated and used Newman ginger cookies. I could have used homemade but I didn’t have time. I just twisted open the cookies and scooped out the cream- which my husband gladly ate.

Process 2 ½ cups crumbled cookies with 5 Tb melted organic butter and 3 Tb evaporated cane juice crystals in food processor.

To assemble cake

Line round eight inch cake pan with saran wrap. Press cookie crust onto bottom. Scoop softened pineapple ice cream over crust and press down. Freeze. When ice cream is hardened scoop softened coconut sherbet over ice cream layer. Spread a layer of whipped cream over sherbet. Freeze until top layer is hard. Pulling up on the saran wrap, remove ice cream cake from pan and place on tray (You can tear a piece of wax or parchment paper into four squares and cover the tray. Center cake over paper and pull out when done frosting. This will keep your tray clean.) Frost sides and top of cake with remaining whipped cream. Sprinkle with shredded-unsweetened coconut.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Addendum to raw milk installment

In my excitement over sharing the benefits of raw milk, I forgot to include a few recipes.
Because cooking raw milk would be counter productive (for obvious reasons) we tend to just drink it. There are a few recipes, though, that I use raw milk for.
Raw milk fettuccini Alfredo (4-6 main dish servings)


2/3 cup raw cream
2 Tb butter (preferably made from raw milk. If I don’t have enough I will use plain organic butter.)
8 ounces sprouted wheat pasta (Trader Joe’s has a yummy pappardelle)
1/3 cup grated raw parmesan cheese
1/3 cup grated raw Romano cheese
Cracked black pepper
Dash of nutmeg


Allow cream and butter to come to room temperature (about thirty minutes).
Cook pasta according to package instructions in heavily salted water. Drain.
Return pasta to pot and add cream, butter and cheeses. Toss until butter has melted and pasta is well coated with sauce. Add pepper and nutmeg.
Top with grated raw cheese.

Yummy with grilled chicken and steamed broccoli, this is one of Shane’s favorite dishes. It is easy and so much healthier than jarred alfredo sauce.

Strawberry almond smoothie (2-4 servings)


4 cups raw milk
1 8 oz pack frozen organic strawberries
2 heaping TB organic raw almond butter
1 TB raw, unfiltered honey
½ ts. Vanilla extract


Mix all ingredients in blender. Add more milk if too thick.

The girls and I love this for breakfast. It is so filling, but doesn’t leave you feeling bloated like a carb-heavy traditional breakfast. Again, it is easy and much healthier than those processed “nutritional” drinks.

The first of six things

I was recently informed that I have been neglecting you, my dear readers. The oversight is entirely my fault. You see, I didn’t know you existed. I extend my deepest apologies.
In order to make up for my unintended lapse of attention, I thought it would be beneficial to reveal all that I have learned in my four years of seeking nutritional truth.
I will try to post a blog every few days. Each one will focus on an aspect of healthy eating. I hope all three of you enjoy it.

Kim’s six tips for healthy eating

1.Go raw. As in milk
2.Treat soy like Elijah did Jezebel
3.Grind your own grains
4.Add fermented foods into your diet
5.Use mainly organic produce and meats
6.Stay away from processed foods- even if you buy it at a health store


Today’s blog will focus on the benefits of raw dairy products and how pasteurized milk is of the devil.
Okay, maybe that was a little extreme. But you can see the connections, right?
Hmmm. Maybe, I’ll have to explain.
I’ve had my own battles with dairy. Over the years (about 27 of them) I have had a love/hate relationship with that yummy, creamy white goodness.
It started when I was introduced to milk. Suffice it to say, it did not agree with me. For the next 24 years I was forced to drink skim milk, eat low fat ice cream and spread margarine on my toast. A few times my mother even tried tricking me into drinking powdered milk! To this day, I have flashbacks of that inconspicuous white box and I have to close my eyes when I pass it in the baking aisle at Kroger. With the mistaken idea that I couldn’t digest whole milk products, I was forced to endure these travesties.
After I had Ellie I went through an enlightening, albeit stressful, period of seeking. I was seeking the perfect diet. One that would free me from chronic fatigue, various aches and pains that shouldn’t plague a woman in her twenties and hopefully, one that would free me of about ten pounds. I had been vegetarian for fourteen years, but had backslidden into eating an occasional chicken breast or tilapia loin. I went back to vegetarianism and when I discovered Ellie was allergic to milk, we became vegan. That lasted two years. Deciding veganism wasn’t extreme enough I dabbled in raw foodism. For those of you who don’t obsess over nutrition like I do, that is a diet where a person eats nothing cooked. Ever. At all. No bread, no meat, no steamed broccoli. Not even a glass of chamomile tea.
Obviously, milk was out. I hadn’t had milk in a few years, though. That wasn’t much of an issue for me.
The starvation, however, was. Also, the fact that I was nursing and could see an immediate decrease in my supply didn’t bode well for my raw food foray.
I started eating rice, cereal and lasagna (made with soy cheese, of course) again.
A friend of mine introduced me to a book called Nourishing Traditions by Sally Fallon. I read it and immediately told her she was insane (My friend and Sally Fallon).
But I couldn’t ignore what the book said and I began my own search into the dangers of soy. I won’t get into that here. That will be in installment # 2. Because we didn’t eat dairy or meat, mine and Ellie’s diet had been heavy on the soy. Soymilk, soy meat, soy cheese, soy yogurt. Because of the research I conducted, I began to make connections between my own health problems and soy.
I threw out all the soy. I than called a local farm and bought a cow. We named her Bessie.
Now, I didn’t buy a whole cow. Just part of one. Or rather, a share of one.
In Ohio, it is illegal (ridiculous that the government can legislate what I can eat) to buy raw milk. Consumers are forced to “buy” into a cow share program. I won’t go into the logistics of this. It is boring and annoying…but, at least it keeps me from becoming a criminal (labeled as such by the USDA).
Raw milk is delicious, fresh and as an added bonus, doesn’t wreak havoc on my digestive system. Raw milk is obviously whole milk, yet I have never had a problem with it.
Also, even thought pasteurized milk and their products cause a histamine effect in Ellie (and to a lesser extent, Grainne), raw milk has never caused this in her. In fact, when I introduced raw milk into her diet, the eczema that had plagued her since she was very young stopped spreading and the hives that covered her mouth and chin every time she ate cheese went away. She didn’t develop a runny nose, a clogged throat or a cough with raw milk.

The Weston A. Price organization says this.

"Not only does pasteurization kill the friendly bacteria, it also greatly diminishes the nutrient content of the milk. Pasteurized milk has up to a 66 percent loss of vitamins A, D and E. Vitamin C loss usually exceeds 50 percent. Heat affects water soluble vitamins and can make them 38 percent to 80 percent less effective. Vitamins B6 and B12 are completely destroyed during pasteurization. Pasteurization also destroys beneficial enzymes, antibodies and hormones. Pasteurization destroys lipase (an enzyme that breaks down fat), which impairs fat metabolism and the ability to properly absorb fat soluble vitamins A and D. (The dairy industry is aware of the diminished vitamin D content in commercial milk, so they fortify it with a form of this vitamin.)
We have all been led to believe that milk is a wonderful source of calcium, when in fact; pasteurization makes calcium and other minerals less available. Complete destruction of phosphatase is one method of testing to see if milk has been adequately pasteurized. Phosphatase is essential for the absorption of calcium."

When we began consuming raw milk many people had the type of reaction you would expect had I started giving my kids substances that are created in a laboratory and shown to cause cancer (installment #6). Eyebrows were raised, concerns were voiced. One very close relative to me even told me it was illegal and I could go to jail. Um, yeah. If the federal government is going to throw me in jail over drinking a glass of milk, than they need to turn on the news (fox news, of course. The rest of the stations are biased) and deal with real problems.
In fact, raw milk is safer than pasteurized milk. The farm I get my milk from allows their cow’s free range of pastured land. The grass is not sprayed with harmful chemicals, which in turn go into the milk. The cows are not given hormones and steroids that force them to produce milk at volumes four, sometimes five times their normal rate. The cows are not given antibiotics because they do not chronically suffer from the mastitis caused by the hormones that increase their production.
As a side note. I had mastitis. Once. When I was nursing Grainne. It was more painful than delivery. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone or anything and the very idea of drinking or eating something that came from an animal battling such intense pain makes me squirm.
The cows that provide my family with milk are happy, healthy and live the sort of bucolic life that dairy commercials want you to think commercial dairy cows live. I’m not going to tell you the horror story that is the commercial dairy. It is cruel, unnecessary and profit driven. I will tell you, though, that because of that nasty reality, most all of the dairy products sitting on the shelf of your local supermarket do little to benefit your body and do much to cause harm.
As a recovering vegetarian I am acutely aware of the lives the animals that provide me with food live. Even though I now eat meat, I still do not want these animals to suffer unnecessarily. I do everything in my power to seek out humanely produced food.
I can write a ten page blog and still not cover all the benefits of raw dairy. I won’t do that to you. Shane reminds me (often) that most people aren’t as interested in the minutia of healthy eating as I am. If you are interested you can check out the link below for more information.
I encourage you to check out in order to determine the laws governing raw milk consumption (again, ridiculous) in your state and locating a raw milk share program. You won’t regret it. In fact, I can just about guarantee, after one sip of that creamy, sweet beverage you will be hooked.
Maybe I haven't convinced you of the spiritual implications of consuming pasteurized milk, but hopefully you have a better understanding of the benfits of drinking something in its most natural, God created state.
Raw milk does a body good.

I want to note that it is becoming increasingly easy to locate raw cheeses. Whole foods and Trader Joe's carry a nice selection of everything from Cheddar to Romano to Gruyere. Yummy!

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

First phone call

Ellie got her first phone call today. From a boy. An older boy. Grant is the son of a friend. He is eight (I think), cute and full of energy. Exactly the type of person Ellie loves. She talks about him all the time. In fact, she has told me on numerous occasions that Grant is her friend and she loves him. She was talking about him at dinner the night of "the phone call".

Ellie: Is Grant coming over today?

Me: No, not today.
Ellie: Why not? Grant is my friend and I love him.
Me: That's very nice, honey, but Grant can't come over today.

The phone rings. From the caller ID I assume it is my friend.

Voice: Hi, Kim. Can I talk to Ellie?

Ellie? Okay. I'm not sure why my very adult friend wants to talk to Ellie, but I'll humor her.

Voice: It's Grant.

Oh. Well, I guess that makes more sense. Although, I'm at a loss as to why an eight year old boy wants to talk to Ellie.

Me: Ellie, you have a phone call.

Okay, that just sounds weird. I mean, am I already having this conversation? What's next? Curfews and sleepovers?

Ellie: Oh.

Very jaded. As though she gets phone calls all the time.
Ellie takes the phone.

Ellie: (before Grant can get a word in edgewise- which is a pattern for those speaking with Ellie) Grant, how come you're not coming over today?

Silence. As though she is listening. I know better.

Ellie: Oh! But why aren't you coming over?

Silence. Ellie waves her hand at me as I take pictures of her very first phone call.

Ellie: Mommy is going to ballet.
Me: No, mommy is going shopping with Katie.
Ellie: (Surely interrupting Grant) Oh! Mommy is going shopping with Katie.
Ellie looks at me with interest.
Ellie: Are you going to Trader Joe's?

I nod and point to the phone which has slipped from her ear. I can hear Grant chattering away.

Ellie: Hi, Grant. Mommy? Will you get me a balloon at Trader Joe's.
Me: We'll see.
Ellie: Hey, Grant. I'm watching Peter Man. (That's Peter Pan for those of you who aren't up on Elliespeak.) Do you like Peter Man?
Ellie: Here daddy, Grant wants to talk to you.

Ellie hands the phone to Shane and I am left with a camera dangling from my hand, wondering if this is the first step towards my baby's independence. I watch her watching "Peter Man". The crocodile tick tocks onto the screen and Ellie shrieks with laughter. She sees me standing there and hurtles herself as she is wont to do, shouting, "Mommy!" with all that three year old enthusiasm. I kneel to catch her and prevent myself from being toppled to the floor. I inhale her sweaty preschooler scent and kiss her sticky hair (sticky because she wasn't quite able to keep her curls out of her collards).
"Save me, Smee. Save me," cries Captain Hook, throwing himself at his stumpy sidekick.
"Can you get me a balloon, mommy?" cries Ellie, throwing her arms around my neck.
I just try not to cry and throw away my concerns. For now, despite her very first phone call, my little Ellie is still little...and she is so getting a balloon.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Thank heaven for little girls

I love being a mom to two little girls. They are precious, beautiful and affectionate. Plus, they don't like to play in the dirt, eat bugs or pretend they are superman and jump off the couch. Instead, it is all tu-tu's, tea parties and baby dolls. (Sure, Ellie loves to play karate, but that is only the influence of the little boy I watch...I think. She does have a natural propensity towards administering headlocks and scissor kicks.)
One down side of having girls-and I never considered this until recently- is that once a little girls stops fitting into toddler sized clothes, it becomes increasingly difficult to find appropriate clothing. This coming season, Ellie will be wearing a size five. Now, I would love to be able to dress her in Hannah Andersson dresses everyday, but seeing as how my husband works for a non-profit, that is not within the realm of possibility. $38 dresses are hardly accessible to me, let alone a child who will cover them with green marker, spill blueberry yogurt on them and grow out of them before I've had a chance to say, "I wish I could dress my children in Hannah Andersson everyday."
I've been browsing around, looking at fall clothes for Ellie and I have been horrified by the overt sexuality of these clothes. I've recently seen ultra low-rise jeans (I wonder if these come with thongs, so that the three year old can fashionably let them "Peek".)
Sweats with words and phrases emblazoned across the rear end. (I don't care if it says "I love Elmo"- it is inappropriate to draw attention to a preschoolers bottom.)
Halter tops
Plunging necklines
Micro minis
High heeled, knee high black patent leather boots (Wrong on so many different levels.)
T-shirts that say: "Too hot to handle", "I love boys" and even one advertising AC DC.
String bikini underwear and String bikinis.

These are clothes that I wouldn't wear. These are not clothes that I want my child wearing.
It is getting harder and harder to find pretty, girly, modest clothing for my child...and she is only three. What is it going to be like when she is ten, twelve and fifteen?I'm aghast at some of the clothes teenage girls wear today. Even at church you see girls as young as seven or eight wearing tight miniskirts and high heeled wedges, pre-teens wearing shirts that clearly reveal their growing bodies and teens wearing jeans so low you cringe when they bend over to pick their bibles up off the floor.
It is not okay.
I don't care if everyone else is dressing like Paris Hilton and Brittany Spears. (For the record, one has a criminal record and the other has flashed her privates to the world, been in rehab and lost custody of her children- not exactly the role models I encourage my girls to look up to.)
I don't care if you don't want to be the mean mom who is so "uncool".
I don't care if you think the bible's dictates on modesty are irrelevant in today’s pornographic world.
Nothing changes when we role over and play dead.
These are my children and I will not allow them to be sexualized. Let me say this loud and clear.
Even in a lacy top, tight jeans and heels, they are still three years old (or ten, or twelve or fifteen.)
Our culture has been infiltrated by a playboy mentality. It has torn apart the moral fabric of our society. Teens today have no moral compass. They have nobody to look to that sets an example of modesty, purity and responsibility. Their sports figures are players (in every sense of the world)
Their celebrities act promiscuously and dress either like slobs or street walkers.
Even teen stars, whose primary audience is tweens, pose for suggestive photos in magazine spreads.
Music artists are lowering the standards for not only talent, but behavior as well.
Movies, that ten years ago would have been rated R, are now rated PG-13 and open to the most impressionable young minds.Why have we allowed this?
Why have we allowed ourselves to be bullied into not enforcing our morality on our children? Why have we allowed the media to take over and corrupt the minds of our most precious God-given gifts?

I will never allow Ellie to see a movie that is soft porn disguised as teen entertainment.
I'll be darned if either of my children emulates a talent-less, unfocused, promiscuous celebrity in either dress or action and I'd rather Grainne run around the beach in a diaper than wear a string bikini. (A baby in a diaper is cute. A baby in a string bikini is perverted.)

My children will not grow up expecting to be objectified. They are much more than one dimensional and they will never, ever be sexualized.
They will dress modestly, act virtuously and remain innocent as long as I can manage it.
I will not allow the world to intrude and turn their innocence into immorality, their naïveté into nastiness and their simplicity into sexuality.

You might remember the old song, "Thank heaven for little girls" from the 1958 movie, Gigi. Okay, the plot line is raunchy, some of the characters are creepy and the song leaves a metallic taste in my mouth, but at least they got one thing right. They let the little girls grow up.
The entertainment and fashion industry are overlooking that one important step. Here's an idea... let's let little girls grow up before bombarding them with smut. When they are legal they can decide whether they want to follow in the footsteps of honorable, classy women or become part of the homogenous world of loose morality.