In today’s climate of scrimping and saving, cutting back on the grocery bill is one of the most obvious ways to cut the household expenditures.¬† Fortunately for us moms, the least expensive groceries are often the most nutritious foods.¬† But buying these items can be daunting when your culinary expertise is limited to frozen prepared dishes and pre-washed salads.¬† In this recipe, I tackle the rutabaga – a versatile, but rather unpopular root vegetable.¬† Below is an inexpensive and easy recipe to make, it’s packed with nutrients and is surprisingly tasty.¬† I cannot, however, guarantee your kids will eat it… Two out of my three¬†boys enjoyed it, the third one ate it after much coercion.

You need:

1 rutabaga
3 to 5 carrots medium sized carrots
vegetable or chicken stock (I use cubes b/c they’re so easy)
cheddar cheese

Peel and cut into cubes the¬†rutabaga and carrots.¬† You should have about equal amounts of both.¬† Boil them in 1 to 2 inches of chicken or vegetable broth until they’re soft.¬† Drain the liquid, add 1 cup of grated cheddar cheese¬†and mash or blend in food processor until smooth.¬† Add salt to taste.

Frugality.  A word that, not so long ago, was only uttered in hushed tones, under the guise of night between panicked spouses who dared peer into their trench of credit.  At a time when spending with carefree abandon was de rigueur and credit was the perfect friend – handing out favours, no strings attached.  Who knew that relationship could turn so sour?  With the financial markets bottoming out (hopefully, soon) and employment security an oxymoron, frugality is enjoying a resurgence not seen since the emergence of Dollar Stores.  Even the word itself (froogalitee) personifies a pencil-thin man in wire-rimmed glasses, sporting a red bow tie.  Nerdy, but level-headed – the kind of fellow with whom no hoodie-wearing, video-game-playing, cool kid would befriend. 

In fact, the more a family invites frugality into their home, the lower the cool-factor descends.  I’ve noticed that my tactics to cut spending and bring financial Zen to our household, are diametrically opposed to the coolness factor.  In other words, when frugality goes up, coolness goes down.  Here are a few effective, yet humbling, suggestions to ready yourselves for tough times ahead.

Clip coupons.  Okay, the act of cutting along the dashed lines is not going to hurt the coolness factor because this part can be done in solitude.  However, the key to success is actually using the coupons.  I recommend you store your stash in a zip-lock bag and discreetly review its contents as you push your cart along the grocery store aisles (it helps to be familiar with your clippings beforehand.)  At the check out counter, I like to surreptitiously place each coupon on the product as it glides prostrate upon the conveyor belt.  Be alert!  The cashier often does not notice them.  Do not be intimidated by the line of sighing mothers and crying kids behind you.  Loudly point out the cashier’s delinquent behaviour and demand your entitled discount.  With thorough flyer research and eagle-eye diligence, you can save up to $5.00 each time you shop (certain limitations and exclusions apply.)  To avoid embarrassment, your son or daughter may walk several paces ahead of you as you exit the store.

 

Buy cheap food.  It’s better than it sounds, actually.  The least expensive food is often the healthiest.  The more packaging there is, the higher the price, and ditto for the amount of ingredients and level of preparation already completed on your behalf (does anyone really need to buy pre-cooked noodles?)  Among the cheapest produce available are: rutabaga, cabbage, carrots, and potatoes.  What do I do with a rutabaga, you ask?  Well, when it’s $1.49, you figure something out – just like I did.  My head of cabbage, however, is still rolling around the refrigerator’s crisper.  Let’s not forget beans.  A bag of green lentils for $1.59 – and these are organic – will provide for at least three meals.  The coolness factor takes two hits for this tactic.  One – when the kids invite friends over they’ll be stuck snacking on Premium Plus crackers and left over rutabaga, rather than chips and fruit roll-ups.  Expect to hear exclaims of ‘Ew, what’s that?’  Two – the fiber intake will create a flatulence situation that may be hard to contain.  However, if you have boys, like me, this may actually increase the cool factor, and thus, cancel out the other coolness setback.

 

Buy second-hand.  Or, even better… go trash-hunting.  Thanks to CraigsList and eBay, buying used has grown quite acceptable among the masses (cool kids, excepted.)  When my son asked for a BMX bike this summer, we searched online and found a “perfectly good” bike for $35.  A new BMX at CyclePath was priced at about $350 and rather than wait until they went on sale to get 10 percent off, we chose to buy a bike at 10 percent the price.  My son was not, however, content with getting a bike that only fulfilled 10 percent his dream.  He was pleased when a short time later, our neighbour gave him an old BMX  that they’d planned to toss out with the garbage.  It was the perfect size, the perfect brand (too expensive to buy new) and the price unbeatable.  A few days later, when his buddy guffawed that he had a “used” bike, my son shrugged it off with nonchalance.  And I swelled with pride.

 

Scale down your fashionista ways.  Do blondes really have more fun?  Well, it’s time for you to find out.  Let the dark roots grow in, quit the manicures and pedicures, and stop buying clothes that cost more than your weekly grocery allowance.  No one is saying it’s easy to bend over and paint your own toenails, but if you keep your tummy muscles tight, you’ll be working your abs and thus, eliminating the need for a personal trainer, too.  I gave up my golden tresses a year ago, and despite moments of winter blahs when I’m tempted to book highlights, I’ve come to like (read: accept) my new, natural look.  And women aren’t the only ones making sacrifices.  In the U.K., for example, supermarket Aldi, can barely keep up with demand for its two-piece pinstripe suits that sell for $50.  This suggestion for frugality will not likely deflate your kids’ sense of coolness, unless you start wearing muu muus or jean overalls (please don’t.)  It may, I should caution, affect your own. 

 

Being in vogue is for mannequins.  In real life, we need to be sensible and entrust our ways to our bowtie-wearing friend, frugality.  Because coolness be damned, I’ll take nerdy over bankruptcy any day.

 

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When it’s been one of those days -¬†the kids¬†have transformed¬†the living room¬†into¬†a jungle gym,¬†battle cries¬†over lego pieces have echoed persistently through¬†the house, and that no-fail¬†pot roast tastes like¬†boiled straw – mothers are just aching to hear the words “you need a break.”¬†¬†And even if such¬†empathy¬†is not forthcoming, she will strategize to¬†set her feet marching (or stomping)¬†out her front door before the mall closes.¬† That’s right, it’s not just¬†a cliche, the shopping mall is¬†a preferred destination¬†for the “Mommy Break.”¬† It’s easy (usually only a¬†short drive away) and even if¬†her purchasing power is weaker than an argument for buying Luis Vuitton,¬†at the very least, it satiates her need for quiet¬†and indulges her¬†oft-neglected sense of vanity.¬† I, too, have frequently¬†surrendered my harried soul to the serenade of elevator music wafting through the wide corridors of a North American mall, and wistfully read the price tags of items I couldn’t afford (not without my credit card, that is.)¬† However, despite the breadth of my merchandise gazing experience,¬†I was¬†not¬†prepared¬†for the ultimate¬†shopping indulgence¬†- the mother of all Mommy Breaks – shopping in Hong Kong.

Just the prospect of escaping to a faraway land, like Asia, is fantasy enough for many a mom, and I graciously acknowledge¬†my husband (and household understudy) ¬†who assumed househusband status¬†while I vacationed in Hong Kong.¬† But¬†the chasm between¬†myself and my¬†parental duties combined with¬†infinite shopping opportunities¬†in a city that¬†exerts as much effort into selling wares as Tim Horton’s does¬†coffee, creates a shopping nirvana. ¬†Stores are everywhere:¬†luxury boutiques in malls;¬†mid-price clothing, electronics and antique shops¬†line the streets; and, Gucci knock-offs¬†are sold in¬†pedestrian-packed laneways, called markets.¬† It is¬†there, in¬†the markets – the maze of alleyways where merchandise-laden stalls¬†battle for your¬†abundant dollars, that the North American shopper is elevated from¬†traditional passive purchaser to active bargaining agent.¬†

“Hello, hello,” the Chinese merchant beckons should you stop for even the briefest of seconds to¬†gaze at their goods, “You wan copy watch, bag,¬†design jean?”¬†

The first market I visited was Stanley Market, jammed with merchants selling their wares in single garage-sized stalls and stores.  As a tourist destination among the Westerners, it carries items of higher calibre than most other Hong Kong markets.  I was on the look-out for a painting that would be reminiscent of my trip.  Before long I found an oil painting of Central district Рthe area in which I was staying Рand I knew it was the one I wanted.

“Hundred eighty dolla,” said the sales woman (the exchange rate for Canadian dollars to Hong Kong dollars is about $6.50 Cdn for $1 HKD.)¬†

“How about one hundred,” my friend – a past resident of Hong Kong – countered, as I stood meekly aside, resisting my sticker-price mentality to just push her away and yell ‘I’ll take it!’

“No.¬† No.¬† This painting by pofeshinal.¬† Not like udder store.¬† Dey by tsudent.¬† Dis one pofeshinal.”

My friend waved her hand¬†to dimiss her, advising me that we’d find something better at another place.¬† I was dubious… I mean, thirty dollars for a hand painted piece of art seemed more than reasonable (didn’t Ikea sell¬†faux painted¬†canvasses for $100 back home?)¬† However, not five minutes later we saw an identical¬†painting at another art gallery where we talked the sales woman down to $100 (HK) (she’d insisted we pay $10 to cover the cost of the tube in which to insert my canvass.)¬† Buoyed by¬†that success, I boldly¬†announced a price of $100 for a necklace at a jewellery shop a few paces down from the gallery.¬† The woman at the counter stared at me indignantly and lifted the price tag, “Hundred dolla?¬† Dis two ten!”

She grabbed a large calculator (this is one of their preferred methods for presenting their offers, no doubt, to prevent other less bargain-savvy Westerners from knowing how low their price can go) and said, “Ten pecen off.”¬†¬†I read¬†a digitized “189″ in the calculator window.¬† I declined.¬† There were more fish in the sea (or something like that), I thought.¬†¬†By the time we boarded our bus to leave, however, I’d regretted¬†that I had not just bought the darn thing – it was only $30 Canadian, after all.¬† And, how likely would I find that exact same piece of jewellery again?

Our next stop was Mong Kok Market, a much less westernized version of Stanley.¬† It was one long alleyway that crossed two main streets in downtown Hong Kong.¬† The¬†merchandise was less varied in both scope and quality than what I’d seen in Stanley, but the prices were rock-bottom (if you knew how to bargain.)¬† I’d learned that the surest way to get the price you want is to walk away when they counter your offer; this makes them worry, because the only thing they want more than a high selling price is a sale.¬† They will chase after you, pull you back into the stall and quietly acquiesce to your demands.¬†

I¬†bought a Paul Frank tote bag for $45 HKD, two Dolce & Gabbanna purses for $180 HKD each, a pair of Victoria Beckham jeans for $180 HKD (I had to¬†haggle those down from $400), and a cocktail purse for $40 HKD.¬† Did I mention they¬†specialize in knock-offs?¬† One cannot be too choosey with these prices, y’know.¬†¬†

My moment of glory¬†was when I discovered the necklace I had coveted at Stanley Market hanging in a¬†clear plastic¬†package (the chain stuffed into a slotted white piece of cardboard) among dozens of other similarly unimpressively packed jewellery sets.¬† Not surprisingly, it looked much less¬†chi-chi here than at the previous store, where it dangled prettily on silver holders amid a collection of stylish gems.¬† But, it was the same one, nonetheless.¬† It¬†was sort of like¬†discovering that beautiful chunky glass vase¬†on a shelf in Wal-mart beside a mass of plastic thermoses that you’d just purchased for double the price at Pier 1.¬† Isn’t it funny how display can inflate the price?¬† I bought the necklace and matching earrings for a mere $100 HKD (they came as a set in the cellophane pack)… ka-ching.

No¬†whining kids begging for a toy.¬† No racing against time¬†to grab what I could before rushing to pick up the children at school.¬† No guilt over spending too much on designer jeans that my husband just wouldn’t understand.¬† Just me… shopping with indulgent, unabashed, delirious freedom.¬† But, regret is a bitch, and with a no-return policy on all purchases (by a woman giddy with amazing deals), she is one pitfall I couldn’t avoid.¬† Oh well, every good thing in life has its price.

Posters of the movie Zack and Miri Make a Porno hang from the theatre where you take the kids to watch Igor.  The family-friendly Knight Rider (airing at 8pm) shows teens swapping jokes about porn while shooting hoops.  The latest “It” girl is barely dressed on the cover of Maxim at the counter where you buy little Mikey a lollipop.  As our pornified culture seeps ever deeper into the daily activities of a typical family, parents can be forgiven for thinking that the only way to shield their children from its effects is to bar them from ever leaving the house.  As ridiculous as it sounds, even an overzealous strategy such as that would not necessarily prevent exposure to porn.  In fact, the most explicit porn is most likely to be viewed in the home, thanks to the internet.

 

 

The proliferation of cell phones with internet access has only exacerbated the problems that parents face.  Results of a study of wireless search behaviour indicate “Adult” entertainment to be the top google search, making up almost 20% of all queries. 

It’s enough to make any parent throw their hands in the air and lament, “there’s nothing I can do.”  This is too serious an issue to just let it be, according to Pamela Paul, author of Pornified: How Pornography is transforming our Lives, our Relationships, and our Families.  In her book, she describes what children learn through porn. 

“Watching pornography, kids learn that women always want sex and that sex is divorced from relationships.¬† They learn that men can have whomever they want and that women will respond the way men want them to.¬† They learn that anal sex is the norm and instant female orgasm is to be expected.”

Parents face a daunting task, no doubt.¬† But there is hope.¬† According to the Australian study, porn exposure was most likely among the most frequent internet users (that is, those who¬†surfed online¬†every day, or more.)¬† Therefore, a rational first step is to limit children‚Äôs internet access.¬† And while it‚Äôs virtually impossible to totally prevent a sexual image from popping onto the screen, parents can more readily address exposure, when it does happen,¬†by regularly reviewing the¬†surfing history.¬† Microsoft provides easy instructions on how to do this, and other simple methods to ensure children’s online safety.¬† Their website is http://www.microsoft.com/protect/family/guidelines/basics.mspx.

Having frank and open discussions about sex is also important in helping children put the sexual images into context.  That means including a chapter on pornography when you teach your child about the birds and the bees.  In Pornified, Paul interviews Al Cooper, past director of the San Jose Marital and Sexuality Center and an expert on Internet pornography.  His advice is to accept children will see pornography, and to talk to them about it.

“Not only can all children see pornography online, they will see it.  All kids today will see sexually explicit stuff and they will see it constantly… When a parent finds a pornographic picture on their six-year-old’s computer they need to have a talk with the kid.”

 

 

In other words, don‚Äôt cross your fingers and hope that your child will be the one in a million who doesn‚Äôt see porn.¬† And, on the other end of the spectrum, think twice about shrugging it off with the age-old argument that it‚Äôs “a normal part of being a boy.‚Äù¬† Both are forms of denial.¬† A mix of prevention tactics with open discussion about pornography will go a long way in helping children learn to recognize the fallacies and dangers of pornography, and to censor their own online exposure.¬† Because, truly, the best filter around, is the one within us all.¬†¬†

 

 

 

 

Below is the first of many personal anecdotes I will be compiling that celebrate the joys, trials, and lessons learned while eating at the family dinner table.  As this age-old custom deteriorates in our fast-paced, hyper-parenting, over-worked society, these written pieces will hopefully re-ignite the desire among families to slow down and enjoy the comaraderie of eating together. 

Eat Your Soup

My body stiffened, and pressing my head against the back of my chair I peered down at the bowl of swamp that had just been set before me.  As pungent steam curled around my nostrils, I clutched my mouth with my right hand and fought the gag reflex.  Locking eyes with one of my sisters, we silently acknowledged this would be a tough one.  A cauliflower could “accidently” fall to the floor, a slice of roast beef fold neatly inside a napkin.  But soup?  There was no faking it.

Mom and Dad sat at their places at either end of the table and began “In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit…”  Our cue to say grace.  We reluctantly mumbled the words we knew by heart.  I, however, could not summon a single thought of gratitude.  Dad scooped the first spoonful into his mouth.  He closed his eyes for a moment as a smile formed on his green soaked lips, and we knew this was not the last of his homemade pea soup.  He dove his spoon back in, alternating it between his mouth and bowl like it was a vanilla fudge sundae stirred to just the right consistency.  He didn’t stop until his spoon clattered in the Corningware bowl. 

Mom cautioned us to eat before it got cold, but her tone betrayed what she really meant – eat your soup, or else.  Having experienced the “or else,” no one dared utter a word of dissent.  The spoon dangled between my thumb and forefinger as it skimmed across the surface of the soup.  Blinking back tears that threatened to flood the cesspool below, I slurped the broth through my lips.  Holding my breath, it actually didn’t taste quite as bad as I’d expected.   Unfortunately for Brian who was, at four, my youngest brother, the pressure overwhelmed him and he cried shamelessly.  The rest of us rolled our eyes and snickered, distracting us from the soup and igniting an explosion of chatter about the day’s affairs.   Elizabeth received an A in her math test while Allison (suspiciously) had not received a mark in weeks.  Kevin had finally dissembled the family’s radio (and could not figure out how to put it together again), while Dad threatened to halt Brian’s wailing with “a good wallop.”  I quietly slurped my liquefied peas.

It must have been my long sigh of relief that caught Mom’s attention.  “Someone’s ready for dessert,” she announced, retrieving the bowl that I held aloft.  A blanket of quiet rested over the table.  They reluctantly returned to eating soup while I received my dessert of canned pears.  Although it did not seem a fair reward for my efforts, I’d learned one of many valuable lessons that were dispensed at our family dinner table – that the desserts in life were earned.  And many years later, as I faced challenges far beyond the warm comfort of our kitchen table, I would fight my desire to run away by remembering my parents’ guiding words – Eat your soup (or else.)