Cute Stuff My Kids Said

I'll forget this if I don't write it somewhere:

At a restaurant, my son was eating and the waitress filled his water glass when he wasn't looking.

Astonished, he asked me, "how did the water get there?"
"The lady filled it when you weren't looking."
"Oh, I thought it was a miracle."


And then, today my kids wanted to watch a video. I told them that it rots their brains, and that they had already watched two videos that day. So no more. My son says:
"But I'm still smart. I know that candles are made of wax."

A Little Break

As you've noticed, I haven't been able to blog much in the past few months. I'm going to take a little break from blogging. I just have too much going on with work and all. Come back every month or so. Who knows, I may pick up again.

Happiness and blessings to you all!

xoxo
VeggieGeek

Library Display

You may remember that a year ago I reserved the display case at my public library so I could put together a veggie display. Well, the year is up, and my time has come.

During this year, I've put up hundreds of leaflets, and just started putting out Vegan Outreach's Why Vegan. It's a hit, which kind of surprises me because I keep thinking the "V" word freaks people out. But so many people have taken leaflets (Guide to Cruetly Free Eating, Even if You Like Meat, Why Vegan and Honoring God's Creation) that at least a few might have reconsidered their choices.

Anyhow, encouraged by my success with the leafleting, I got some display materials together. I was careful with the images, and only chose the tamer ones. I know lots of little kids come in, so no I had no pictures of dead animals. I then took the batch to the head librarian to make sure that I could put them up. I didn't want someone to pull my display at the last minute.

It went pretty well. I have to replace a couple images. The librarian did say two things that were kind of telling about our world. The first was, "We don't want to show animals suffering or dying."

The subtext of course is that we don't want to see the terrible things we do to these animals. I mean, the whole purpose of intensive animal farming is to disregard suffering and ultimately cause death. Since I wanted to be as much of a squeaky-clean suburban mom-type, I agreed to make changes to the display. After all, I've reached hundreds of people through the leafletting, and I don't want them pulling my leaflets because they don't like me.

Also, kids may see the display. And sadly, we live in a world in which we need to lie to our children about what we do.

And the second thing she said was regarding my leaflets near the door (which are high up so little kids can't reach). She said some people had complained that the pictures were "icky." I was pleased that the librarians didn't take them down, since long ago they warned me that if people complained, they might take them down.

It doesn't really make me angry right now that people complain about seeing something that makes them uncomfortable. It just makes me sad that people expect that decent society conceals the results of our actions from us. And that any crack in that leads them to complain about seeing something "icky."

God shield us from the "icky."

Raising Vegan Jedi

My little boy is 4 years old, and he asks more questions now about why we’re vegan. I point out other vegans to him so maybe we won't seem so weird, and he about had a fit of glee when he learned Weird Al was vegan. When we saw a car on the freeway with a Go Vegan bumpersticker, the kids both really wanted to see it and were thrilled that someone else is like us.

I was looking for a wallet at Target, and my little boy kept finding gaudy bright pink and lime green leather ones, and I kept telling him that they were leather, so I didn’t want them. He asked what leather was, and I told him it was cow skin that they treat with chemicals to keep it from rotting. Well, you could have knocked him over with a feather. His big blue eyes were all wide and horrified.

“Why do they make things out of cows?” he kind of squeaked.

I explained that it’s how it has been for a long time, and that they use the skin of the cows they eat. He looked like he was about to cry, so I told him that the cows were already dead (I lied about live skinning to a 4 year old. Sue me.). He kind of moped around a little and I couldn’t distract him with Hello Kitty watches or the light-up pen in my purse. I asked him why he was sad, and we came back to the cows.

This was one of those parenting moments you try to deal with as best you can, but really, what’s the right answer? I told him that things will change, that when he is an old old man, the world will be a little different. And that by the time our great great great grandchildren are alive, that people will be nice to animals.

That cheered him up. A few weeks later, we were at Macy’s and there was this cube-chair thing made of different colors of cow hide with the fur on. My son asked what it was, and I told him it was cow fur. He backed away from it and wouldn’t touch it. He got that awful about-to-cry look and I tried to make it educational by showing him how some cows are black, some are white, some are brown. But he would have none of it. He said, “that’s disgusting” and off we went. I really had no rebuttal, because, yeah. Sewing chemical treated cow skin into a cube is disgusting.

His teacher says he’s happy about being vegan, which is good, because it would suck if he felt it was some miserable thing that we inflicted upon him. The teacher says he tells the other kids about being nice to animals, and I asked if he’s ever rude to them about their lunches or anything. No, she said. He liked telling about eating Tofurkey at Thanksgiving and how we left soy milk and vegan cookies for Santa (with 9 carrots for the reindeer).

After the leather incident, he asked about his shoes. I said they weren’t leather. They’re synthetic. He didn’t know what “synthetic” meant, so I said “uh, it means people-made” (as opposed to man-made since we want to be gender-inclusive here). He shook his head and whispered “no!” and looked like he was really upset. “What’s wrong honey?” I asked. His eyes started to tear up, and he said, “not made of people…people skin?”

I quickly explained that they were made of chemicals and plastics, and who knows what, smushed into shapes and cut and sewed into shoes. The little guy calmed down, and I felt so bad for him. Geez, thinking your shoes are made of human skin will screw with you.

We also have history lessons. At the library, there’s a display on the local Native Americans, and part of it is a rabbit skin. I told him what it was, and then explained that they had to eat rabbits and wear their skins to survive. They didn’t have the stores we do now. He only relaxed when I told him that we didn’t have to wear rabbits.

So I don’t know. Part of me is so proud of him. And part of me worries that my beautiful freaks will end up tortured by the suffering when they find out about it. My little girl just turned 3, and I know she’ll be asking questions soon enough. She has a vegetarian teacher who makes her vegan snacks, so that’s nice. This teacher also got T’was the Night Before Thanksgiving to read to the kids. It tells the story of kids who visit a turkey farm, discover that the turkeys will be killed, and smuggle the turkeys home to enjoy a veggie Thanksgiving.

Lessons in animal liberation in preschool - how can you not love it?

Back in Action - Kind of

I've been away awhile, doin' stuff.

Working, working some more, and then working again. Fortunately, I get paid for overtime. Unfortunately, we had a $1700 plumbing bill (roots growing through our pipes, causing the toilets to back up into the shower and tub - yay!) and an upcoming $5000 electric bill to repair the crazy-ass electrical system in my old house (built in 1965 which is practically ancient by Southern California standards). So work I did, and earn I did, and now my house has functional plumbing and will hopefully not burn down in the next couple of weeks from an electrical fire. I haven't seen my kids or husband a whole lot, but by golly, we have plumbing and electricity.

You know how long ago, I promised to always tell the truth on my blog? Well, that's easy-peasy when I'm ranting about the government or factory farming or whatver. Because I get to sit here and anonymously shoot at ideas I think suck. It's a little harder when I have to say I think I was wrong.

Not about the vegan thing. No. But about the Jesus thing.

Remember back more than a year ago when I started reading up on religious stuff, specifically Biblical history and the history of early Christianity? Well, I didn't hesistate to post a bunch of stuff criticizing it, but I pretty much quit doing book reviews shortly after. I read some good books, and some lame books, and some thought-provoking books. I had a list of questions that had to be answered, and some of them were. And some weren't. I read and read more, as is my way.

The point I'm getting at is this - I'm a Christian now.

Yipe! I wrote that. Ok clarification - not a right-wing asshat who wants to ban gay marriage or teach creationism is school or any of that. Everything I've said before on my blog and in person (if you know me) still holds. Still the same as I ever was. Except one, uh, small detail.

Here's what happened. I had my little list of questions. And I kept reading and trying to resolve these questions. The biggest question was this - are the gospels (forget the rest of the Bible) reliable? I mean, they've been translated every which way, altered, manipulated, what-have-you. Right? So at the end of the day, they're just some embellished legend of some rabbi who went around telling people to love everyone. Or were they?

I can't even begin to go into everything I read, thought, or stuggled with. But I can give you this - I call it The Apostle Problem, and many others have gotten hung up on this issue. 10 of the original 12 apostles died torturous horrible deaths. John died in exile and Judas did his hanging-falling-splitting open thing. But the others died by torture of one kind or another. So why? Why would they voluntarily die these awful deaths if they knew that Jesus's resurection was a metaphor or they had just dreamed up the whole messiah thing over too many cups of Passover wine? They could have recanted and saved their skin, but they didn't. And if this Jesus guy really did rise from the dead as they claimed, then doesn't that lend an air of credibility to what he said?

This was my sticking point.

I couldn't get anything past it. Anything I could find about the apostles said stuff about their awful deaths. The only other stuff I could find said they didn't exist, but historical evidnce didn't bear that out.

And after reaading more, though I resisted (oh how!) I eventually had to admit to myself that though the gospels (again, forget the rest of the Bible) may not be 100% accurate, they are easlily 95%. And that's enough to mean that if I still said that they were a load of horse crap, then I'd be lying. Lying to anyone else, and most importantly, lying to myself.

It hasn't been easy for me. Just saying the word "Christian" out loud in association with myself about made me have a coronary the first time I did it. My husband, bless his sweet soul, doesn't read my blog, but he knows about my "apostle problem." My friends who read this will be either delighted or horrified by my "coming out." I'm still kind of weirded out by the whole thing.

And to be super-clear, I want everyone to know that I am still pro-gay-marriage, a feminist, I believe in evolution, and I still hate the president. I hate organized religion and all its hypocrisy, lame hierarchies and fancy candlesticks. I cringe at the idea of the 10 Commandments on court walls or having prayer in schools. I have no interest in converting anyone. I think much of modern American Christianity has grossly misinterpreted what this Jesus guy was about, much to our world's detriment. My little pagan heart still sees divinity in nature and finds the swaying trees and the stars in the cold winter sky more moving than any sermon or statue of the crucified Christ. And the idea of going to a church still makes my skin crawl.

So anyway, I'm kind of nervous and weird-feeling about posting this. I've been mulling it over for weeks, trying to think of how to do it. Not so much for my internet readers, but for my friends, especially those who know how passionately and vehemently I've lampooned Christianity. But as I mentioned, I promised to always be honest. Even when it makes me look like a big dumb-ass.

Especially when it makes me look like a big dumb-ass.

So here's me, in my full confused spiritual nakedness, wondering what the hell happened. I don't want to talk any more about it, since there's more, much more, but I'm not really ready to share.

October Sucked

October was a crazy-bad month, and I wanted to wait until it was over before I blogged it. I’ll write it out chronologically, and warning, there’s a sad ending.

It started out with my 4 year old son dislocating his elbow while playing on the slide with another kid from school. They used to play a game in which they would “save” each other from the lava/monster/whatever by pulling each other up the slide. So one kid pulled my son, and he spent awhile in the office cradling his little arm. My husband took him to the doctor where the doctor easily bent his elbow (palm to shoulder if you care to know) and fixed it.

Then two days later in Home Depot, my husband was holding my 2 year old daughter’s hand. She is our runner, and the place is dangerous for little people with carts of lumber, forklifts etc. So she tried to run, my husband held on to her arm. She was then crying and cradling her little arm. Could it be another dislocated elbow? My husband tried the thing the doctor showed him, and yes, it was fine after that.

Then, last week, my daughter got in the car and was not moving her arm. She said the pain was in her wrist, and screamed when my husband gently moved her hand. We weren’t sure if it was the elbow thing, so we took her to urgent care. And yes, it was the elbow thing. The doctor fixed it. Our daughter said it happened when Miss A at school “helped” her. We mentioned this to Miss A and she remembered helping my daughter back onto her nap mat by pulling her by her hands. Harmless enough. Then my daughter was very sensitive and crying a lot. Well, when you’re 2 with a dislocated elbow, I guess you’re entitled.

We also had fun with head injuries. My daughter ran into a corner so hard that a giant purple-black swelling appeared within 10 seconds. It was huge. And pulsing. And growing. So we called the doctor, called our friends who are in nursing school (while waiting for the doctor’s advice nurse), and eventually figured out she was ok. We had to wake her up every 2 hours and make her count to make sure she wasn’t brain damaged.

Then at school, poor Miss A was hanging a picture which accidentally fell on my daughter’s head and cut her. Miss A was much worse off than my daughter, and she felt terrible. Fortunately, everything was fine.

Then on Friday the 13^th, we got rearended. We bought a used minivan 2 months ago for safety. I kept having this feeling that we should get a safer car – that our 6 safe years in our Echo (a subcompact) were our fair allotment, and we should watch out. So we got this minivan. Then we got rearended so hard that it is costing almost the entire value of the car to repair it ($7000). My husband and I suffered minor whiplash, but the kids were completely fine. The people behind us and in front of us were fine too. And the other guy’s insurance is paying everything, so all it means is that we’re back in the Echo for about 6 weeks while they fix the minivan. I am soooo glad we got that minivan, because we got hit HARD. And in the Echo, my kids are about 2 feet from the bumper of the car behind us.

But none of these things were that bad. I mean, we all came out ok.

Now for the sad part.

Our sweet kitty, Robin (aka, The Puck) was hit by a car and killed last week. Our neighbors, bless their hearts, found him, put him in a box where our kids wouldn’t see, then quietly told us so we could plan how to tell the kids.

I was devastated. I was crying too much to put the kids to bed, so my husband did it. I felt terrible about having him outdoors (he was an indoor cat for years and then got out and would get crazy when locked in). I did some soul-searching about keeping him in and making him unhappy but keeping him alive versus letting him out where he was so happy but obviously got killed. I cried that night, I cried in my sleep, I mostly held it together the next day at work.

Anyway, the first night, I wanted to see his little body, so I opened the box. It wasn’t gory. His body was curled on its side, just like he was asleep, only his head was completely under him. Even with no medical experience, I could see his neck was broken, and there was only a tiny amount of blood from his nose, indicating that his heart didn’t pump blood for long after the injury. He died quickly, which eased my heart a little since I feared that he lay in the street in pain before he died.

That night, I was thinking about Robin, and how much I would miss him. How he licked my children’s heads when they were newborns, how he’d curl up with them to sleep, how he patiently let them pet him, even when they were a little rough when they were younger. I fell asleep and had a dream about a cat I had when I was 4. His name was Charmin (yes, after the toilet paper because he was all white and “squeezably soft”). He bumped his head on me and wordlessly told me that he was in a happy place with sunbeams (the kind cats like to lay in) and that it was where they all go. (Not sure what that means – all cats? All souls?). Maybe it was wishful thinking from my troubled brain, or maybe good old Charmin was letting me know that Robin was ok. Either way, it was comforting.

The next night, after we went to urgent care for the elbow, we told the kids about Robin. We explained what “dead” means, and that his spirit is not in his body any more. My husband and I debated what to say beforehand. I believe in a soul, and that it goes to a happier place after death. I am fine calling this place heaven. My husband is not. So eventually I told him that if he was picky about wording, he could say whatever he wanted since none of it offended me. In the end, we both talked and the kids were sad, but not distraught. I don’t think they really grasp it fully.

My daughter kept saying, “We have to fix Robin. Fix his head, fix his legs…” And we told her he couldn’t be fixed.

My son, after asking about Robin not coming back, said that Robin was part of the universe and was somewhere, “with no cars.” I hope so.

I told them that his body was in a box outside, and we’d bury him that weekend. They wanted to see the body, and since it wasn’t gory, we thought about it and said ok. We described how he would look (cold, still, kind of stiff) and that his spirit was gone and his body was just empty now. My son thought he had no heart or brain, so we had to explain the physical structures vs. spirit thing.

My little daughter cried out, “There’s Robin!” when we showed them, so we told her that it was just his body. They wanted to see his face, and we were kind of wary about that. But in the end, we decided that it was ok and let them see his still little face. Then they helped pick out an old baby blanket of theirs to use as a shroud, and my husband and I wrapped him.

On Saturday, the kids drew pictures for Robin and we buried him. My daughter was a little upset when she saw us drop Robin down into the hole (it was about 4-5 feet deep because we didn’t want to accidentally dig him up when we garden). Then the kids wanted to play, and we let them. I attached the pictures the kids drew to chopsticks with clothepins and stuck them in the ground.

And our house is a little empty now without our Robin. Our other cat, Peaseblossom has been extra lovey, and I think she misses him. They would sleep together and roll around on the ground play fighting. So I’m giving her extra attention since she probably wonders where her friend is.

RIP Kittenhead

A Little Break

Sorry I left you with that cranky post below for almost a month. Things are hectic, with little room for doing anything that isn't crucial. So I'll probably be away for a few weeks.