I had that brief glimpse when my frame of reference slipped forward at hyper speed and it dawns on me that he’s not a little kid anymore. I mean, he is still just a kid, but damn, when did he get so old? And more importantly, when did I?

I could go into the “I used to”s like:

• I used to buy directly from farmers.
• I used to buy in bulk (though I still do that to a smaller degree).
• I used to shop at Farmer’s Markets.
• I used to shop at the co-op.
• I used to buy local (though I still do this for a few things).
• I used to be able to go over budget if necessary.

…but let’s face it, that’s kind of depressing.

I haven’t shopped at the co-op for more than a small amount of spices or a few whole grains since April of last year, but at that point we were down significantly from previous years.  I’m giving up my co-op membership so that I can spend the $150 on local ground beef from Share.  I’ve been holding on to my membership thinking that things will get better or that we’re just talking temporary set-back instead of reality.

The reality?  This isn’t a temporary set-back.  This is reality.

I had to switch the kids to peanut butter and jelly tonight after seconds (or thirds and fourths for a certain child who also proclaimed that he had a hollow leg) so that I would have something to send with my husband for dinner tomorrow night.  I don’t know where the kids are putting all that food…all three of them are tall and skinny.

I’m trading my co-op membership for bakery outlet bread (because let’s face I can’t realistically add anything else to my plate), peanut butter (the least crappy version I can afford), and the grape jelly I made from the two five gallon buckets full of concord grapes that I got for free this fall (plus the low sugar pectin and a small amount of sugar I bought so that it’s still tart).

Oh, and for the record, I take back what I said in 2009.  The more jobs you work, the longer the hours you work, the less feasible something like a garden becomes.  In reality, the last thing you want to do is head out to the garden.  What you really want to do is sleep and spend what little time you have left with your children.

The problems with accessibility to food (and to a growing degree affordability) all still exist in spades.  Gardening, though?  There’s a certain degree of privilege that exists for those who can afford to garden, especially when you broaden the word “afford” into non-monetary realms.  My insisting otherwise in 2009?  Nothing but the naiveté of privilege.

Sure, cried the tenant men, but it’s our land.  We measured it and broke it up.  We were born on it, and we got killed on it, died on it.  Even if it’s no good, it’s still ours.  That’s what makes it ours — being born on it, working it, dying on it.  That makes ownership, not a paper with numbers on it.

We’re sorry.  It’s not us.  It’s the monster.  The bank isn’t like a man.

Yes, but the bank is only made of men.

No, you’re wrong there — quite wrong there.  The bank is something else than men.  It happens that every man in a bank hates what the bank does, and yet the bank does it.  The bank is something more than men, I tell you.  It’s the monster.  Men made it, but they can’t control it.

– John Steinbeck, “The Grapes of Wrath“

One thing we can be quite sure of is that in his day, Dr. King supported union rights. He was assassinated in Memphis on April 4, 1968, when he was in town for a labor strike by the city’s sanitation workers.

The Maddow Blog then quoted Arnie Alpert from today’s Concord Monitor:

King spoke out consistently against “right-to-work” laws like the one adopted in last year’s legislative session and vetoed by Gov. John Lynch. “Right-to-work “provides no ‘rights’ and no ‘works,’ King said. “Its purpose is to destroy labor unions and the freedom of collective bargaining.”

Of all the lessons I learned in 2012, the biggest was that all of the advances I thought those of us who work for a living had made were anything but settled.  I was humbled to consider my place in a long line of people who have fought so hard for what I consider to be part of living in a “civilized world” and disappointed to see that those who gave their lives for the cause of working people everywhere were so quickly forgotten.  On this day, I’m remembering Martin Luther King, Jr. as well as the Memphis Sanitation Workers – those who lost their lives at work and those who were denied the basic dignities due to all human beings.  We have not come nearly far enough and we owe it to them to continue to fight.

You can read more about Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Memphis Santiation Worker’s Strike over at the National Archives.

What you see above is what was left of my cloth diapering days.  When I got pregnant with my third child (Surprise!) my middle child was still in these diapers.  I would say I made it up until my youngest was born that she wore cloth diapers.  At that point (or so) I put them both in disposables.  I had washed up the cloth diapers and put them away neatly in a storage bin thinking I might get back to them once I got my sea legs with three children.

That day never came and so they’ve sat for the better part of two years as I’ve been unwilling to let go.  I rationalized it by arguing that if we ever had some kind of major financial problem I could save quite a bit of money by putting the youngest in cloth diapers.   Except, she’s on the cusp of potty training already and let’s face it, I’ve got enough going on without washing diapers.

So, in my flurry of organizing and cleaning this weekend I decided to drag them out, give them a once over, take some pictures, and get them listed online.  I probably priced them at below what they’re worth, but I have no idea what used diapers go for these days and what I really want is for them to be gone.

I had so many offers on the diapers and covers that I had to create a waiting list in case someone backed out.  I’ve sold just about everything at this point and have made almost $70.  Not bad for a few hours of work.

I see more homeschooling books…or maybe some lumber in my future!