How often do you fantasize about escaping the rat race, moving to the country and spending your days making fresh bread and jam from the berries in your garden?
Every time I start to dream about this I have to do the ol' reality check and make sure my fantasy accurately depicts the garden that I haven't weeded in weeks, the mice that I can't ever seem to get rid of, and the pile of stinking compost on the kitchen counter; because I know myself and, even in the country, I'd be so busy doing 20 million things that all that stuff I idealized about slowing down and doing just wouldn't get done.
There's a new breed of uber-moms - they're the ones who are working their hineys off to live and raise their family in most the ultra sustainable, non-materialistic, anti-consumer, locavore way. And it ain't no picnic, folks. It's a blood sport.