An Ode To My Juicer

So this isn't really an ode since I'm no poet.  Think of it more as a tribute or an accolade.  Yeah, that's it...an accolade.

I got a juicer for Christmas.  I cannot begin to explain to you how hysterically excited I am over this shiny new piece of utter joyfulness that sits on my kitchen counter.

I've wanted one for quite some time, but they can be a bit pricey and I, like a lot of moms out there, don't like to spend money on things that I want (unless it's coffee....I never skimp on coffee). But since I got this sparkling new toy as a holiday gift, I've let myself be...well....about as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning.

My initial desire for a juicer revolved around all of the super cool health benefits associated juicing.  I, like most Americans do not get nearly enough fruits and vegetables in my daily diet.  Let's face it, vegetables are kind of boring, especially when there are so many variations of chocolate out there, and chocolate is way more interesting.  Plus, there are only so many salads you can eat before you start to feel like a rabbit...or a hippy vegetarian (not that there's anything wrong with rabbits OR hippy vegetarians).  So juicing seemed like an easy way to boost my intake of vegetable matter and the plethora of vitamins and minerals that vegetables inevitably contain.

But I had no idea the psychological benefits of juicing, and I doubt that my secret Santa gift-giver realized them beforehand, either.

Every morning I get to totally obliterate a bunch of fruits and vegetables.  Like completely and totally destroy and ravage whatever I can find in my refrigerator.  I can toss in anything from carrots to beets to celery to whole freakin' oranges, and they spin around in the tornado of carnage and come pouring out as juice.  And for some strange (and possibly psychotic) reason, I absolutely relish this somewhat violent act of destruction, this pillaging of plant matter.  It brings me pleasure much like smashing the glass bottles in the recycling bin.  There's just something so deeply therapeutic in the destruction.

Before you haul me off to the loony bin, let me explain why...

I've been a mom and a homemaker for a very long time (my oldest child is almost 18).  I spend an inordinate amount of time building and creating.  I spend hours each day building up my children's self-esteem and math skills and vocabularies.  My energy is invested in building a home that is nurturing and safe and accepting (if not always clean and tidy).  I make breakfast.  I make beds.  I make sure everyone has clean socks and clean teeth.  I make lunch.  I make lesson plans.  I make time to read with my younger kids.  I make grocery lists.  I make the kids do their chores.  I make dinner.  I make sure everyone gets to karate on time.  I make sure bills are paid and dogs are fed.  And hopefully somewhere in all of that, I'm building healthy, responsible, independent human beings.

And it can be exhausting. Often I just crash headlong into utter fatigue at the end of the day.

So in the midst of all of that building and making and creating, it's nice to break something...something fairly insignificant, like the glass in the recycling or the apples and oranges for my morning glass of juice.  In some small way I think it helps me find balance (even if it is a teetering kind of balance) between creation and destruction.  And better to destroy something like fruits and vegetables than the frail emerging confidence of a child (or my best dishes) in a momentary rampage of frustration.

Ellen DeGeneres said, "Life is about balance.  The good and the bad.  The highs and the lows.  The piña and the colada."

Mmmmm....piña coladas.  Lucky for me I have a pineapple and a juicer!