The strangest sibling battle we've had to date

Tonight as I picked up my kids from day care, I fully expected a sugared-up nightmare. After all, there was not one but two birthdays in the house that day.

Instead, I was happily greated by the birthday princess, complete with tiara and new Barbie doll (making the Barbie count for this week exceeding her years of life!). My son, however, was not empty handed.

No, he was toddling around with his prized possession: A cucumber. And not just any cucumber. One that stretched nearly to his knees, curling around in just such a way it looked like he was playing a trumpet.

Because you see, circling his lips were tiny slivers of cucumber skin as he knawed away at it. To each his own.

It only got stranger on the way home. He knawed away at his cucumber, until his sister declared that she was hungry and insisted on eating some cucumber as well. So that poor cucumber was passed back and forth for the next 10 minutes, each kid chomping away at it while the other protested furiously that it wasn't in their hands.

As a parent, I expect sibling rivalry. I expect fighting over toys. Fighting over cucumbers? That's not in the parenting books. That much I am sure!

City girl, country girl

Twice a year, we're blessed to visit with my sister-in-law and niece, who live a nine-hour drive away. We just finished playing host for a four-day visit, and we'll be mopping up tears for the rest of the day.

Our visits are always marked by the contrasts in the way we live our lives. The "city girl," my daughter, is very much a hands-on, get-in-the-dirt kind of kid. She comforts slugs and snails at the park. She prides herself in the garden and chases frogs in our backyard. She can't go a Saturday without a drive to the farmer's market.

The "country girl," my small-town-living niece, splits her time between her parents and lifestyles. She's used to eating out all the time, going to movies, and running around. Our pace - driven by baby brother's schedules and other priorities - is a stark change for her.

Seeing the cows at the farmers market? It's the one thing she talks about - other than the community pool - that she wants to do during her visits here. She thinks it's a treat to bake a pizza or snap beans.

And our visits to her home? Often marked by tiredness. Tired babies from a long drive and disrupted sleep schedules. Tired from being in the car from driving to all the events and places that we "must" somehow visit before we leave Kansas City. It's a pace that's doable for parents on a family visit, but it's tiring for the kids.

The truth is, sometimes it's the little things that matter. And what stands out in their minds isn't the tourist stops or favorite haunts we visit. It's eating at a place that had a train. Or having ice cream with a cow. Or playing splash party in the sprinkler. Those are the things that they remember.

A declaration of war

We have a war in our house. It’s the battle over food. And when did I miss the first strike?

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve always somewhat smugly wondered why other people’s kids didn’t eat healthy food. Did they not introduce them? Did they not put their feet down? Did they live on McDonald’s fries? What was the deal?

And then karma happened.

My 3 year old, one day, decided she wasn’t hungry at dinner. But she wanted a snack 30 minutes later. And the game happened the next day. And the next.

So we offered her meal for snack time. No luck.

Frustrated, we declared no dinner, no snack. She’ll be hungry tomorrow, we reasoned.

Hardly. Instead, she’s insisted on cereal and milk only for about two weeks. I suppose it’s fortified, but it’s not a particularly varied diet. This morning at breakfast, I offered her a nectarine, which she was practically drooling over last night in her “I want a snack” mode. She ate two bites.

Dinner is hardly different. My resident green thumb, who loves to pick out and grow vegetables, declared last season she liked to grow tomatoes but not eat them. Since then, the "grow-only" list has expanded to green onions and shallots – and that’s just what she’ll admit to. The sweet potatoes she used to not get enough of? Sunday she declared she no longer would eat the “orange part.” The lettuce she loves – and loves to grow? “I don’t want that at my party,” she said, when choosing her lunch choices.

So we have a pint-size dictator declaring war on virtually anything healthy. And I’m just sure what to do. Any brilliant ideas? I’d love to hear them.

Sharing our land: A great neighbor story

There's a lot being said these days about helping feed and empower those in need. There's the planting a row for the hungry campaign, for one. But what if you could do more?

What if all it took to get a family on their feet was a little bit of land?

Today's Indianapolis Star features a farm stand on Indy's south side that opened its doors - and its land - to Burmese refugees. Traditionally farming families, once arriving in a metropolitan area, they faced challenges in adjusting to a new life and way of making ends meet.

Waterman's Market, off of I-465 on the southeast side, is helping these families get a fresh start. Now the market, traditionally known for its berries, sweet corn and fall festival, will expand its offering to traditional Asian vegetables, including yard-long beans, winter melon and white eggplant.

"There's a call for that that isn't being met in our area," Lisa Waterman told The Star.

Not to mention, it's the right thing to do.

The market is also marking World Refugee Day this weekend with a festival featuring food, music, dance and storytelling from a variety of cultures. The event runs from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Saturday and noon to 6 p.m. Sunday. Admission is free. For more information, call (317) 626-0520, or visit http://www.watermansfarmmarket.com.

My apologies to the Neelys

The last week was not an inexpensive one in our household, and it was a stark reminder that we need to redouble our efforts to watch our spending. So meal planning is back on the menu.

But it isn't a simple task. If you saw the contents of our kitchen, you'd shake your head. A half-bag of cheese and chips leftover from taco salad. Two-thirds of a roasted chicken from Saturday. Leftover pizza. A few garlic scape and green garlic that I hadn't yet used. Pretty pathetic. Yet I wasn't up for a Monday evening shopping trip with kids in tow. So I got the brilliant idea of barbecue nachos, a decidedly Memphis dish that my sister showed me three Christmases ago (and I hadn't tried since.)

There was only one challenge: Selling it. My husband, a decidedly Kansas City-barbecue fan (yes, there is a difference!), was mildly supportive. My toddler wouldn't care. My oldest, however, was defying her genes by declaring that she doesn't like barbecue because "it's spicy." (Maybe we shouldn't have cut her teeth on Daniels and Jack Stack.)

So, driving home, I considered it. And I came up with the solution for my Food Network fan: "Neely's Nachos." She likes watching the Neelys. She likes nachos. A win, right?

She was sold. Until she saw, clasped in my hand, a jar of Daniels' championship sauce.

"That's barbecue sauce," she said flatly.

"No, that's Neely's sauce," I said, knowing full well that I was losing this battle. I got the look.

"I like ketchup," she declared. And so, she made her "Neely's Nachos" with chicken, barbecue seasoning, cheese and ketchup. Her brother, bouncing in his high chair, could hardly contain himself, begging for "barboo," drool rolling down his chin.

And the funny thing is, one liking it "spicy," the other going as lame as could be, they both happily munched down their dinner. And Pat and Gina, I thoroughly apologize!