The person who was managing this blog is on a little mental vacation. She is enjoying the weather, getting some sleep, organizing things, and making big plans with her family. She plan to rejoin this blog shortly. In the meantime, leave a message and she'll be sure to catch you up on her crazy, amazing life soon.
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Monday, July 26, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Ignorance Isn't Bliss
I'm finally frustrated enough to comment on something I often think about: food. Don't worry, it's not too much of a rant! I'm not sure how I became passionate about food, but I did. Well, I guess I have an idea. Here's a story to bring us up to today:
Flash back to me in my mid-teens. On a family camping trip that brought us to multiple states, I ended up at a rodeo in Wyoming. I watched as the cowboys roped the calves. They were rough. They pushed them around, pulled them to the ground, and tied all of their feet together. I also watched them ride bulls who had been picked on to the point of anger. Something struck me. There was nothing kind or gentle about it. I had always loved animals of all kinds, and I felt really horrible watching them being treated like that. I cried. I told my mom that I wanted to be a vegetarian. She informed me that since she purchased our food and made our meals, this wasn't an option. I think she thought it was a phase.
Fast forward to college. Not long into my first year (and my 3-meal-a-day ticket), I realized that the meat in the college dining room wasn't the most appetizing I'd seen. I also had a new interest in my health, and began reading about diet. I decided to try cutting out red meat. It was pretty easy. Then I read something telling me about chicken and how it can be high in cholesterol - sometimes more than red meat. Chicken was cut out. Again, it was easy. The more I read, the more I learned. I was soon able to cut out the last meat: fish. And I liked fish. The more I cut out, the more I found to replace it. I realized I didn't miss any of it all that much. I lost a few pounds, and I felt good. It seemed to be a really positive change.
Now that I was officially "vegetarian," I turned my reading to vegetarian articles. I found so many reasons to keep up my eating habits. Cruelty, pollution, abuse, quality control issues in slaughterhouses... I became more and more certain that what I was doing was important.
That leads me to today. I am convinced that the biggest reason to be a vegetarian is a growing population and the inefficiency and pollution of the meat industry. While I wish most people would convert, I know it's probably not realistic. My wish is for people to decide that the earth can't sustain a supply for the level demand, so we should cut down. If everyone would eat one vegetarian meal a day, or have one vegetarian day a week, the difference would be significant. I'm passionate about this, and it frustrates me to no end that people don't know and don't care where their food comes from. How did it get to your plate? Please ask yourself this question!
I am actually proud to be known for having a little soap box that I like to pull out. I try not to do it often. People aren't interested in my opinion most of the time. I guess that's why I have this blog! I just get frustrated when people wave their hands in front of their face and tell me that they don't want to know. I feel that we can't afford to bury our heads in the sand. This isn't only true for diet. We need to pay attention to our world - to the people in charge. Too many people are waving their hands in the air and saying, "No, don't tell me. I don't want to know." Well, you have to know. I would rather someone listen to something and disagree with it than not listen at all. We owe it to ourselves to seek out truth and make conscious decisions based on it. It's not always convenient, but it's essential to life. I want to have a decent world to pass along to my kids. Don't you?
Flash back to me in my mid-teens. On a family camping trip that brought us to multiple states, I ended up at a rodeo in Wyoming. I watched as the cowboys roped the calves. They were rough. They pushed them around, pulled them to the ground, and tied all of their feet together. I also watched them ride bulls who had been picked on to the point of anger. Something struck me. There was nothing kind or gentle about it. I had always loved animals of all kinds, and I felt really horrible watching them being treated like that. I cried. I told my mom that I wanted to be a vegetarian. She informed me that since she purchased our food and made our meals, this wasn't an option. I think she thought it was a phase.
Fast forward to college. Not long into my first year (and my 3-meal-a-day ticket), I realized that the meat in the college dining room wasn't the most appetizing I'd seen. I also had a new interest in my health, and began reading about diet. I decided to try cutting out red meat. It was pretty easy. Then I read something telling me about chicken and how it can be high in cholesterol - sometimes more than red meat. Chicken was cut out. Again, it was easy. The more I read, the more I learned. I was soon able to cut out the last meat: fish. And I liked fish. The more I cut out, the more I found to replace it. I realized I didn't miss any of it all that much. I lost a few pounds, and I felt good. It seemed to be a really positive change.
Now that I was officially "vegetarian," I turned my reading to vegetarian articles. I found so many reasons to keep up my eating habits. Cruelty, pollution, abuse, quality control issues in slaughterhouses... I became more and more certain that what I was doing was important.
That leads me to today. I am convinced that the biggest reason to be a vegetarian is a growing population and the inefficiency and pollution of the meat industry. While I wish most people would convert, I know it's probably not realistic. My wish is for people to decide that the earth can't sustain a supply for the level demand, so we should cut down. If everyone would eat one vegetarian meal a day, or have one vegetarian day a week, the difference would be significant. I'm passionate about this, and it frustrates me to no end that people don't know and don't care where their food comes from. How did it get to your plate? Please ask yourself this question!
I am actually proud to be known for having a little soap box that I like to pull out. I try not to do it often. People aren't interested in my opinion most of the time. I guess that's why I have this blog! I just get frustrated when people wave their hands in front of their face and tell me that they don't want to know. I feel that we can't afford to bury our heads in the sand. This isn't only true for diet. We need to pay attention to our world - to the people in charge. Too many people are waving their hands in the air and saying, "No, don't tell me. I don't want to know." Well, you have to know. I would rather someone listen to something and disagree with it than not listen at all. We owe it to ourselves to seek out truth and make conscious decisions based on it. It's not always convenient, but it's essential to life. I want to have a decent world to pass along to my kids. Don't you?
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
A Long Night
Tonight was challenging. My daughter seemed to make it her goal to break me. She wouldn't come home with me when it was time to leave daycare. She battered me with kicks as I tried to put her shoes on. She had a time out in the daycare lady's kitchen before we could even get out the door. When we got in the door at home, she wouldn't remove her shoes or come upstairs. I walked away. She eventually came up. She wouldn't sit up to eat, so she spent 3 minutes in her bed awaiting the oven timer as a cue to come out. Normally she watches one cartoon each night if we get done eating in time. The requirement is that we use the bathroom prior to the show. Are you getting the pattern here? Yes, she wouldn't use the bathroom so we didn't watch any cartoons. She didn't seem to care. She'd much rather disobey than watch a cartoon.
Bedtime was the same. A toothbrush with toothpaste was met with thrashing head and pursed lips. A final bathroom trip resulted in a bottom hovering over the seat because sitting down would represent some type of defeat. When it was time to put on pajamas I had a limp noodle. I was done. I picked up my fully clothed child and put her in her bed. I slammed the door behind me. She was perfectly content in there. She was ready to sleep in her clothes. I wasn't ok.
I sat down and cried. I cried because I didn't have any enjoyable time with my daughter tonight. I cried because sometimes I feel like a toddler has me beat. I cried because I'm tired. I cried because I worry about my ability to successfully parent. I cried because I want my daughter to be the best that she can be, but I'm not sure how to make that happen sometimes.
About ten minutes after I left the room, I went back. I asked her to put on her pajamas. She reluctantly agreed. I asked her to use the bathroom - for real. She did. I wondered if she thinks that I regard her as "naughty." I don't like that word. I think it can be a self-fulfilling prophecy. I sat her down on my lap and asked her if she thinks she is a good girl or a bad girl. "Good girl," she answered. Ok, good. I told her that I think she's a very good girl too but sometimes it's hard to spend time with my good girl when she makes the choice to disobey. I told her that my night isn't as much fun without my best girl acting as Mommy's Helper. We had a little talk. I told her that I love her. I felt better. I hope somehow that she felt better too.
This was a rough night. I did my best. It's amazing that we are challenged so much as parents and we feel like we are at our wit's end, but a small kiss on the cheek at the end of the night makes it worthwhile. I can only hope that the sum of my days with her end up giving her a feeling of positive self esteem and a sense of responsibility. All I can do is my best.
Bedtime was the same. A toothbrush with toothpaste was met with thrashing head and pursed lips. A final bathroom trip resulted in a bottom hovering over the seat because sitting down would represent some type of defeat. When it was time to put on pajamas I had a limp noodle. I was done. I picked up my fully clothed child and put her in her bed. I slammed the door behind me. She was perfectly content in there. She was ready to sleep in her clothes. I wasn't ok.
I sat down and cried. I cried because I didn't have any enjoyable time with my daughter tonight. I cried because sometimes I feel like a toddler has me beat. I cried because I'm tired. I cried because I worry about my ability to successfully parent. I cried because I want my daughter to be the best that she can be, but I'm not sure how to make that happen sometimes.
About ten minutes after I left the room, I went back. I asked her to put on her pajamas. She reluctantly agreed. I asked her to use the bathroom - for real. She did. I wondered if she thinks that I regard her as "naughty." I don't like that word. I think it can be a self-fulfilling prophecy. I sat her down on my lap and asked her if she thinks she is a good girl or a bad girl. "Good girl," she answered. Ok, good. I told her that I think she's a very good girl too but sometimes it's hard to spend time with my good girl when she makes the choice to disobey. I told her that my night isn't as much fun without my best girl acting as Mommy's Helper. We had a little talk. I told her that I love her. I felt better. I hope somehow that she felt better too.
This was a rough night. I did my best. It's amazing that we are challenged so much as parents and we feel like we are at our wit's end, but a small kiss on the cheek at the end of the night makes it worthwhile. I can only hope that the sum of my days with her end up giving her a feeling of positive self esteem and a sense of responsibility. All I can do is my best.
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