Veganized

                                         

In January I took the plunge and dove, head over heals into veganism.  I began by only committed myself to a month of plant based eating.  But, I knew that I was sold for a lifetime.  I was right, I have gone vegan and I am not looking back.  It was something that I have wanted to do for years, but didn’t out of fear: 

Fear that I would feel an outsider socially

Fear of being nutrient deficient

Fear of never eating cheese again

Now, I am still a rookie at this, but my fear has been melting away.  For all of you who think that eliminating animal products is an odd thing to do, I assure you, I was weird long before becoming vegan.  Furthermore, vegan or not, you probably have a pinch of freak too.  We all do

I have toyed with the idea of going animal free since I became vegetarian at 14.  I have even tried it from time to time.  I always felt a bit deprived, or weak.  Little did I know, those feelings were not from lack of animal protein.  Rather, they we the screams of toxins leaving my body.  I took what my brain was telling me as the truth.  I failed to listen to my body.  Mistakenly, just as I detoxified, I would throw in the towel.  Well, really Fear grabbed the towel and hurled it for me. 

Over the winter break, I saw two films that changed my outlook and sparked my interest again.  “Fat, Sick, and nearly Dead and “Forks over Knives”.  These movies had sat in our Netflix que for a while.  Along with “Waiting for Superman” and other films that I knew that I should watch but knew would shine the light on things that live in a fog, I had let it sit for a couple of months.  Having successfully abstained from (most) of the annual holiday gluttony, I was feeling strong and inspired.  I was also feeling a little smug.  As a long time vegetarian and relatively clean eater, I was hoping to sit down with my tea and give myself a pat on the back.  No such luck. 

These two films reminded me of the health benefits of not eating animals.  It also gave compelling reasons to give up all animal products and eat a plant-based diet.  It didn’t stop there.  I also gave up all caffeine and alcohol for a month.  I now drink caffeine once or twice a week and limit alcohol to special occasions (which may, or may not include the weekends (which may or may not include Thursdays)).   After 22 years of eating meat free, I am now reminded of why I don’t eat animals. 

Swimming through the toxic waters of caffeine, alcohol, dairy and eggs has had it’s ups and downs.  I couldn’t tell you much about the early days.  Mostly, because I was completely and utterly exhausted.  As I pushed through these lifestyle changes, I became tangled in many of my own demons.  On those chapters alone, I could fill a novel.  I have found that jumping in with enthusiasm is how I thrive in life.  I never like did like getting my toes wet first.  And, hey, if it was good for Albert Einstien, maybe it could be good for you too.

You can Have Christmas

Looking at all of the many, many holiday's that we celebrate during the year, I can think of none I enjoy more then Mother's Day.  This is a totally selfish confession.  In fact, not one that supports the virtues that we as mother's are celebrated for at all.  Regardless, you can take Christmas, Easter, Valentines, and the 4th of July out of my celebration rotation.  Mother's day is where it's at.   I should clarify that I am only speaking of the pagan rah rah of these holidays.  I would, in fact not trade the birth of Jesus or the independence on our country for a few hours of guilt free pampering.  But, the days, weeks, months, of shopping, crafting, planning, baking and discussing that comes with the rest of the hoildays would not be missed.


Mother's day is a beautiful day.  First off, it is always on a Sunday.  Unlike Birthdays that often require I put in a lot of work to help the kids celebrate me, Dad is always home.  No one questions that I stay in bed way longer then everyone else.  When I wake up, no one expects me to make breakfast.  There is even breakfast waiting for me!  And there are beautiful home made cards that say lovely things like "thank you for taking care of me, I love you".  There are perfect and hilarious portraits of me with arms as thick as tree trunks wearing fancy dresses and an enormous umbrella smile.  I get to wear garish mom bling made from giant rainbow colored beads and foam letters.  I get to hide out and read, write and take a much too long shower.  No one questions me.  It is my day.

(side note: Amelia and Jack are not abandon at shore, but in the care of loving grandparents)

Yesterday was perfect.  After a long winter's wait, we finally put our kayak in Lake Cushman for the first time ever.  The sun was out and the clouds had taken sabbatical.  The Lake felt as icy as the snowcapped olympics.  Life felt perfect.  

Just ask Jack.....

Now, flash forward three hours to the car ride back to Tacoma and ask Jack again.  Go ahead, ask him. No.  Wait a minute, he can't answer.  He is busy vomiting into my cupped hands.  And there, just as magically as it began, it all ended.  There in lies the real mother's day.  Just as generations parents have told their jealous children "everyday is kids day".  Everyday is mother's day too.  For better or for worse, I'll take them all.

He's 4!!!

Liam, age 3 1/2

Or is he?  True to form, upon waking this morning, my little fire ball argued that he was not yet four years old.  Apparently, in order to graduate to the next age, one must blow out the candles on their birthday cake.  Candles on a birthday breakfast will not count.  No, turning four will happen when, and only when, the candles on a birthday cake served at your birthday party are blown.  My Liam has such a strong passion about this that I am now wondering if it is true (So, can I delay 38 by not allowing a cake or party? Or, better, I am I still 36 since my birthday cake was not served on my actual birthday? )   But, that is Liam,  a passionate and spirited debater.  This little tree's roots run deep in the soil of conviction.

Oooo, I can still feel weight, smell and sweetness when I see this picture

I have delighted in watching the intricacies of this little spirit unfold over the past four years.  With a little bit of experience in my parenting change purse (notice I did not use the words knowledge or skill), I see how a connection with a child grows with time.  No, I don't love Liam any more then the day he was born.  I do, in some ways love him more richly.  I now have a much stronger sense of who he is and how we as mother in child are together.  If I would have guessed who my child would become at his birth, I would have imagined a very different person.

A tiny cherub wearing the Schroeder family baptismal  gown

For one, I imagined that Liam would have been a little more mellow.  Maybe that was just a pipe dream, but that is what I saw when I looked ahead.  I would have probably pictured a more typical 3rd child.  One who goes along for the ride and is a little more clingy and needy then the older children.  While he is the biggest lover of my three and maybe a little more clingy he is so different from what I imagined.  When Liam stood at the fork in the road of survival he chose to WALK the path, he would NOT be taken along for the RIDE.  Rather, he would survive by letting his needs, thoughts, ideas, loves and hates known.  Every minute of every day, this soul demands to be heard.  Not just heard but listened to.  Should you chose not to give Liam your full attention, you may find him gently (or firmly) demanding it.  He has been know to put his arm around your shoulder and place his hand on your cheek turning your face to his.  Fierce blue eyes like lasers, just try to look away.  Try not to smile.

Master communicator by four, I now see that this soul is destined to take the lead of others.  Yes, I do see that most preschoolers are bossy and struggle for power.  No, I have never encountered one that is more convincing.  I have met few people who were as persistent and convincing as this little boy.  "No" doesn't faze him, it is just a delay on the journey to "yes".  This child can get anyone to do anything.

Hiking at Mt Rainier on Daddy's back

The day after his birth, I chose Liam's name.  I was aware that the name means "protector".  I thought that was odd and struggled to find a poetic way to make that fit who he was.  I thought, perhaps, he would grow to be an environmentalist.  No, he is what his name infers.  He simply protects people.  Liam will defend his brother and sister to the death.  Even when they have just been miserable to him.  I can't scold Jack for hitting or being rude to Liam without Liam coming to Jack's rescue (a loud commanding verbal rescue).  He protects his sister, the dogs or his parents just the same.

Liam age 1 1/2

Protective of his eggs on his 1st hunt

Third Birthday Short Stack

Never a Wallflower always a Sunflower

Above all the things I adore about this person is his ability to make you smile and his energy and freedom in love.  For the child who says it so often with such sincerity,

I LOVE YOU!

Dear Running, you are nothing but a pain in the meniscus.

When you are feeling broke, everyone else is getting promoted or going on vacation.

When you are watching what you eat, the rest of the world starts baking and indulging. 

When you are lonely and single, everywhere you look you see sickeningly happy couples. 

When you give up caffeine, every parent is sporting a starbucks cup at after school pick up. 

When your child throws an ugly fit in the library, you are surrounded by smiling, whispering, children.  

When you injure your knee in January, the entire planet decides that February and March are for running.  

It has been decided that these months are for running, happy running.  Not the type that leaves you scowling in the rain checking your time every 3 minutes.  Rather lovely, endorphin filled running that leaves you in love with life.  I want to be filled with endorphins, flying around the city.  Alas, I am walking dogs and trying to ignore the dull ache in me right knee.

I don’t know how this happened.  Maybe it was running, maybe it was another fitness adventure.  Blooming with the new year, a dull pain emerged in my outer right knee.  Naturally, I ignored it and relied on my bodies super healing powers to take over.  That didn’t work, so started icing after working it.  But, the irritation became mild pain.  Once I started (lightly) training for a ½ marathon at the end of January, it stubbornly dug in it’s heals.  I dug in mine too.  Knee postured. I stuck out my tounge.  Jab-cross-jab-hook-strike. OUCH!!!  

Post runs left me unable to walk down stairs with out clutching the side of the walls.  I couldn’t cross my legs when seated with out irritation.  Going from seated to standing was reminiscent of my arthritic grandfather rocking out of his armchair.  My knee threw up it’s arms in victory and started singing that horrible “We are the Champions” song by Queen.  I gave it a raspberry and put up my feet.

I woke up with remorse for my poor behavior.  But, it was too late.  Knee was giving me the silent treatment.  I think that I went too far this time.  I am not sure that we can ever trust each other the way we used too.  My doctor says that knee's affliction is an irritated meniscus.   It’s probably not a tear, but it won’t heal without rest.  In fact, it will get worse without rest.  Just to be sure I tested that out a couple of times.  He was right, athletic impact made it worse.  It has been over 4 weeks of nothing but yoga and other low impact activities, and still my meniscus is holding a grudge. 

Last week I celebrated my thirty-seventh birthday.    I think I have finally learned a lesson that I should have learned at twenty-one.  I’m NOT invincible.  Hurt happens, injuries happen, disappointment happens.  My body will age.    I hope to repair the damage I have done.  I suppose that leaves me to wait and listen.