I turned vegan about three weeks ago. Now, don’t give me that, “Oh, poor you, you seed-eating, fruit-infested, lettuce-chomping, whole food junkie you!” I might come back with, “I am having a pretty good time, you sausage-ridden rodents!”
But this is not about ‘to meat or not to meat.’ Point is, I was already a vegetarian, so giving up dairy products didn’t seem like a big deal. Plus, I like experimenting with my life, and a workshop on Peas Vs Pills that I attended with the infant did it for me. He of course had no idea that his culinary repertoire was being planned on his mega outing, but then, too bad! Such are the perks of motherhood. Till he has a mind of his own, I appointed myself as his thinker.
The husband was both amused and despondent when he found out. Since the two of us met, he has evolved from a classic omnivore to someone who now eats all that I eat, but needs his sausage and burger goodies on the side. But no day or meal for the husband is complete without oodles of dairy products – cheese, cheese spread, mayonnaise, butter, cheese slices and then some... (it is a miracle he weighs what he weighs, thank god for his metabolism)
Our fridge has been about ‘his shelf’ and ‘my shelf’ and a lot of our dates (I still prefer to call them that) comprised laying out a cheese platter, picking out a favourite DVD (post Tata Sky Plus, it is favourite ‘recorded’ movie or show) pouring each a glass of wine, and just savouring the goodies.
Now it turns out, that he will be chewing on the cheese while I will be chomping on my lettuce. But we haven’t had any problems so far, so I guess we were doing good. Till he asked me, “Is Rehaan going to be vegan too?” with much trepidation.
I could sense that he had nurtured visions of taking the son (that already sounds all-grown up, the poor thing has just learn how to flip over) to the nearest Mc Donald’s soon as he turned two and the two of them feasting on burgers with extra cheese, coke with extra coke and fries with extra fries. Now, he sees them paling away, and of course, that is causing him endless worry.
“Well, for now, yes,” I said.
“But shouldn’t we allow him to decide?,” he whined.
“Okay, you can tell him where a hot dog comes from and he can decide, yes,” was my reply.
Ah, we were going to have ‘parenting issues’, I figured. But I have at least bought time for now.
How am I feeling? Very calm, strangely. Must be the vegan thing. Even nincompoops haven’t been able to rattle me in the past month, so something must be working.