I’m worth a strawberry. But strawberries go really fast in my house. In a way, they need to.  Who knows where they came from or how long it took them to get to my local grocery store. Or there could be a moldy one hiding in the center of the dang pint, just waiting to ruin your day. They are a rapidly deteriorating, yet valuable resource in my fridge. My kids keep an eye on them. So I have to move fast. 

It is Tuesday morning and I’m doing the breakfast ballet – you know, the one where I’m like Rachael Ray on her 30 Minute Meals episodes.  I’m channeling my inner Rachael, pulling out everything I need for two lunches and two breakfasts – balancing carrot sticks, peanut butter, and apples between a loaf of bread and my chin. It is loud.

My oldest asking for Alexa to play ‘I Like to Move It, Move It!’ The one from Madagascar, not Jock Jams Vol. 2. My youngest is yelling the colors of everything in the kitchen.  ‘Spoon blue!’ ‘Orange orange!’ ETA 12 minutes. I’ve got this.

I’m cutting strawberries for their breakfasts. Because I had gone to the grocery store the day before, we were still in decent strawberry shape and had five more for tomorrow. 

Bags are packed, kids are in the car, my husband is doing drop off. Perfect timing, as I’ve got 30 minutes to eat and get ready for my 8:30am Zoom meeting. I put everything away – even the strawberries – shove the remainder of my youngest’s cold toast in my mouth and run for the shower.  

Wait what?

It wasn’t until lunch time that it hit me. I opened the fridge and they were right there – red, delicious, scrumptious. Lightbulb goes on. I can have strawberries for breakfast too. Hell, I can also have eggs and sausage too – not just leftover toast.

I kid you not. This was earth shattering for me.

Strawberries are the kids’ food.  Bananas are the kids’ food. Clementines are for my husband.  And I get half-eaten toast?  It is like seeing the arrow in the FedEx logo for the first time. I can’t unsee it. 

Slow down and grab a think

Lindsay Gurk started talking about this on her Instagram. About how flamingos lose their pink when they are caring for their young – but they do eventually get their pink back when the flaminglets graduate college. She has an adorable sweatshirt on her site – no kickbacks here – it is just really cute.  But the truth remains. Flamingo parents (notice that I’m saying parents, both the male and female) lose their pink when they care for their young. 

Let’s get nerdy

Flamingos are born with pale gray feathers, but become pink because they feed on algae, crustaceans, brine shrimp, among other things. These tiny organisms have a lot of carotenoids in their body. Carotenoids would kill most animals, but a flamingo’s liver can handle it. A build up of this stuff legit stains flamingo feathers pink and/or orange.  Voila! A pink flamingo!

Flamingos are also filter feeders.  They literally stomp on the ground to loosen the dirt, stick their ‘head upside down underwater with its bill pointed at its feet. Then they sweep their head side-to-side, using their tongue to pump water in and out of the bill. Comb-like plates along the edge of the bill create a filter for water to rush out, while trapping food inside.’ After all this work, the mommy or daddy flamingo regurgitates digested food into their young’s mouth to feed it (is there a mom Frida for that?). The parent doesn’t get the nutrients or the carotenoids passed into their system. The color in their feathers wane because the stain in the carotenoids (and the nutrients) is passed to the kids. They are simply exhausted and pasty. 

Exhaustion – reminds me that flamingos and parents do have a lot in common. Flamingos can survive in hostile environments. They can drink the salty water that is in their marshland home. They do most of their arduous activity and fly longer distances at night when it is cooler. They can eat for half of the day.

And like parents, sometimes their bathing habits can be suspect – they preen and whatnot, but instead of using dry shampoo or Milk’s Blush Stick, flamingos use a red-colored serum from their uropygial gland (right above their bum) and rub it on their cheeks to improve appearances. 

This serum comes in handy because flamingos take mating very seriously.  There is a whole dance. Think 80s prom. The brighter the plumage, the better dancer. (or it is a sign of how you are at foraging – but potato, potato).  Like a poorly placed zit on your 16-year old nose, the pale feathers of a flamingo sends a strong message to potential suitors – ‘I feel gross. I am tired and I smell like last week’s dinner.  Stay away.’

Personally, I don’t really like smelling like last week’s dinner. Especially when I can’t remember what it was. Feeling tired all the time really isn’t my jam. Sometimes, there isn’t much I can do about it. But sometimes there is a little something I can do.

What I’m trying to say is, I’m going to eat the strawberry. And you should too.

You’re worth it. Parents. Friends. Aunts. Uncles. People. We’ve all got our salty water to contend with. We’ve all felt like we were filter feeding upside down at some point in our life. But we’ve got to remember no matter how tough things get, instead of wiping bum serum on your face, go to Sephora and show your colors.

Because I’m worth it. I’m worth a strawberry. Not just a piece. The whole damn thing.

Sources:

Flamingos – Shepherd, Jodie, Flamingos. New York, NY. Scholastic

National Zoo – https://nationalzoo.si.edu/animals/news/why-are-flamingos-pink-and-other-flamingo-facts

Science Focus – https://www.sciencefocus.com/nature/why-are-flamingos-pink/

Science News – https://www.sciencenews.org/article/flamingo-feathers-dye-pink-biology

Smithsonian Magazine – https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/for-some-species-you-really-are-what-you-eat-40747423/#:~:text=Beta%2Dcarotene%2C%20responsible%20for%20the,peaches%2C%20strawberries%20and%20many%20flowers.

Wild Flamingos – McMillan, Bruce, Wild Flamingos. NewYork, NY, Houghton Mifflin. 1997