10,000 years

The dermatologist looked very worried.

My girl and I had come in about her hands—the rash that had been on my daughter's fingers on and off, for almost three years, the rash we'd tried everything to treat. Things like moisturisers of all kinds, cortisone and most recently anti-fungal creams, soap free soaps and cutting wheat, tomato, orange, yeast and mango from her diet.

The man listened carefully enough, but when—ultimately—I said the words,
"And we're vegan,"
he came sharply to attention.

"Well, that's a very restricted diet."

Yes, I said, for now, while we work out what this is…

"You know, humans were born omnivores." He looked sternly over at me, like someone issuing a fine.

Ah, I thought. I see where this is going.

"Ten thousand years ago, people were eating the same things they eat today. It's what we're supposed to eat."

I watched the man, clear-eyed and calm. But said nothing.

"I mean, sure, farming practices are less than desirable…"

No response. Just watch…and wait.

"I think she needs a blood test. I think we're going to find some pretty major vitamin deficiencies here."

My daughter began to cry.

I tilted towards my girl. I put my arm around her. Then I leaned forward and said, We give her supplements, and I've done a lot of research on her diet. I actually think we're eating pretty well. 
The fungal cream seemed to work quite well…so maybe that was it? And I was also thinking it might be food allergies. Would a skin patch test help?

"Oh," he said, as he typed into his computer, "I think we're getting a bit ahead of ourselves here! I mean, look, she has photosensitivity, which indicates a serious iron deficiency, and she has extremely pale lips…do you even eat eggs?"


No, I said, sitting back in my seat.

"Well, then she won't have zinc."

He whipped off the form for the blood test. He told us what moisturiser to use. He told us he couldn't believe the anti-fungal cream (which had recently cleared her skin) could be the solution. He said, "Come back after Easter."


Now.
When a professional, a doctor, tells you you're making a mistake, you start to wonder.

Even though the kids and I laughed it off as we were going home, even though I had done my research, read my books, read countless articles, recipes, nutritional facts, I thought:

What if he's right?
What if my child is malnourished?
What if the blood test comes back and she's deficient?
What if this isn't a healthy diet?

What if—the two words that can knot a person tight with worry.

So, what did I do?
Well, for a single, long day following the appointment, I craved roast chicken. Wild. For the ENTIRE day, all I could think about were breasts and drumsticks. It was wacky. It was nuts.

The next day, I woke up and my mind was clear.
Weird chicken worry cravings all gone.

And I researched some more.
I pored over my cookbooks and nutrition information again.
I ordered more books. Vegan books and books about food production and modern agriculture. Books about the benefits of a plant-based diet.
I watched lectures by scientists and nutritionists about dairy and related health issues.
I watched well-researched people give lectures about factory farming.

My resolve came back.

And as I've been doing for the past 6 months I kept on feeding my kids delicious vegan food.
Like lasagne-to-die-for. Breakfast rice. Moroccan sweet potato stew. Lentil bolognese. Pasta with spinach, cannellini beans and pesto. Protein smoothies. YUM.
And I kept up with the kids' supplements—their iron, zinc, and B12.

Fast forward two weeks,

to today.

When we went in to see the dermatologist again.

We'd used his recommended moisturiser, which helped. We'd gone back to tomato and oats, which my daughter loved and had really missed. We'd taken the recommended blood test. And I was ready.

Ready to hear that my daughter might be malnourished. And if she was I would make sure she'd be healthy…without giving up the one thing that matters most to my girl:

That she would not, ever, be asked to eat animals, or animal products.
Because my daughter's resolve has never wavered.



The doctor sat down with the blood test results in his hands. The results were…

Guess what.

Every. Single. Thing, every indicator (iron, protein, calcium, zinc, b12, etc) registered as Normal. Perfectly, utterly in the Normal range.

My daughter wasn't just 'getting by.' She was completely healthy. After 6 months as a vegan, and almost 2 years as a vegetarian, my sweet girl was a picture of nutritional health.

BOO YA!

Yeah, I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

BOO! YA! BABY!

Yes. Ten thousand years ago, people were omnivores. We're still, biologically, omnivores. But we don't have to be. We don't need meat to survive any more. We can be healthy and never eat an animal again.

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Vegie Wednesday on a Saturday: thanksgiving

Thank you, so much, for your comments on my last post.

Thank you, so much, for sticking around. I am so grateful for that, and for you. I hope to be around for you as much as you have been for me.

I suppose this is a beginning, then? Where I declare Loving to Learn to be about Everything and Nothing and all the bits in between.

I am so glad for that.

And thank you, in advance, for reading a Vegie Wednesday post written on a Saturday! (I think it's clear to everyone now, that my attempts at living a predictable life are futile. Which I think—actually I believe—is okay.)

Thanksgiving: different but the same

Nine years ago, we began a tradition of having Thanksgiving dinner here in Australia. We did it with our neighbours and friends who had lived in the US for almost 2 years. When we decided to do it, we consulted our American expert, my husband, for the Official Thanksgiving Menu. He said:

"There's one way to do it. I'm going to give you a list. These things HAVE to be on the table."

There had to be mashed potatoes. Then some sweet potato dish, and gravy—there had to be lots, no, oodles, of gravy. Cranberry sauce needed to be there, but it didn't need to be fresh. Out of a can was fine. Plus we needed to have "some sort of green thing," my husband said. "It can be green beans or peas. I won't necessarily eat them, but they have to be there."

Of course there would be pumpkin pie. It had to be served with whipped cream AND icecream. And without question, there would be a big old turkey. The turkey was not negotiable.

So that's what we've eaten. Year after year, with this family and various invited friends, for 9 years.

Last year, we were vegetarian, but my husband was on the fence. He was still a meat-dabbler, a turkey nibbler. Last year, the kids and I ate the vegies, and my son and I tasted a single turkey slice each. (And then decided it was not for us, ever again).

This year we are committed vegans (well, that is, if you don't count our eggs from the backyard chooks and the honey we still eat. We're never very good at fitting completely into labels).

Our friends are committed carnivores. Yikes. What would we do? Would we have a big old bird on the table or not? Such a quandary!

Then our friends decided to go away camping for the rest of the year. The turkey/no turkey dilemma was avoided for another year, but it left us wondering what we should do on this special day. Celebrate it? Ignore it? Try and replicate the menu using vegan alternatives? (Tofurkey anyone?) Invite friends, or not?

I have loved our Thanksgiving menu in the past. Who doesn't love knowing that on a single day, every year, you'll put the same delicious food on the table, and share it with loved ones? It's the same fizzy, delighted feeling you get when you put the Christmas tree up. You pull out the decorations, the home-made ornaments, the tinsel. You dig out the stockings. And every single year on Christmas day, you give presents. It's a tradition. 

Like all the other important holidays, in every culture, there's a way to do it. There are particular foods you eat, rituals you follow. And I have never ever celebrated a Thanksgiving and not had a turkey sitting on the table when we sat down to eat.

So what did we do this year?

Well.

We decided to re-invent.

We decided that Thanksgiving didn't actually have to have a turkey.

(Crazy, I know!)

We decided, actually, Thanksgiving wasn't about my husband's long ago list of Must Eats.

(But it was such a good list!)

At its heart, we decided,

Thanksgiving is about sitting together with loved ones, sharing gratitude, sharing a meal.


This is true, isn't it? As yummy as the food is, as delicious as that turkey leg used to be for me, and the lashings of whipped cream all over that pie, it's the sitting and the sharing and the thankfulness that matters most.

I can't think of anyone who wouldn't agree.

(At least in part! All you Thanksgiving turkey lovers would say: Yeah. It's that, AND the turkey.)


So this year, for our Thanksgiving, we invited two new families over. Two families who are very dear to us. Two Australian families who had never done Thanksgiving before in their lives. Luckily they had no tradition to be attached to, so we could experiment on them with our very own Vegan thanksgiving menu. Lucky, unsuspecting them :)

Ah, it was a beautiful night.

We had home-made guacamole and corn chips for appetisers. Then for dinner, there was loads of garlic bread, and a roasted pumpkin and sweet potato salad with chick peas. Plus an enormous Vegan Shepherd's pie with green lentils, tons of vegies, and a crisp mashed potato topping. For dessert? Fresh mangoes and mango sorbet.

YUM.

not my pie, but it's pretty, no?
I got the recipe from here and then tweaked it a lot.
Our pie wasn't spicy. Our pie had lentils.

There were 15 of us, and we somehow fitted everyone around two tables, kids mixed in with adults. I had to borrow a pie dish and 8 plates from a friend, and one of the tables had a bedspread for a table cloth (don't tell anyone). We served the sorbet in coffee mugs because we didn't have enough bowls. The 9 kids tore about deliriously all night, and I think a 2-year-old guest might have swallowed the fooz-ball balls (we can't find them anywhere! I hope my friend doesn't find a strange surprise in her boy's nappy. Sorry 'bout that).

We were full, and more to the point,

we were so happy.

As we ate, we took turns saying what we were thankful for. The kids spoke, and the adults spoke. We spoke when we were moved to. We spoke from the heart.

The words we said were beautiful.

They floated.

Thankfulness lay itself on our skin.

It shifted inside us, finding room like children snuggling into laps.


We were thankful all the way through. We were joyous inside and out.


What a wonderful Thanksgiving it was.

What lucky, blessed people we are.

What a lucky, blessed person I am.



(And I nearly didn't go through with this wonderful night. I nearly let my recent health and possible diagnosis, overwhelm me. It would have been understandable if I'd just taken it easy. I lay in bed that morning, after writing my last post, and I thought, I'm not sure I can do this.
My son came and found me, as my kids always do. He lay down and wrapped his arms around me. He knew about my visit to the doctor and he knew some of what the doctor had said.
He said, "Mum, on a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to just lie in bed today, and read, and crochet?"
I said, "I think about an 8, or 9."
"So that's what you should do, Mum. You should do that."
But then I said, "But if you ask me how much I want these friends over, who I really want to spend tonight with, then I would have to say a 10."

Which meant we went for it.

It meant I chose love. I chose joy. I always will. To the best of my abilities, I always will.)

Vegie Wednesdays… a Beginning

What I would like, is to have each of you here right now. All of us in a room together, just smiling at each other. Beaming ridiculously, grins bursting out. Because that's how I feel in this moment. Heart full of gratitude, wanting to see your smiles and to share mine with you.

Thank you for your support. Thank you so much.

But seeing as you aren't here, in this room with me this moment (and why did that wish not work? I closed my eyes and everything!), I will send my smiles and overflowing heart out into the air and into the ether. I will send energy and light and love on the four winds.

I hope they find you. And find you well.

So, onto business! :)

This is the beginning of a new idea I have.

Because we are going through a fairly life-changing, soul-changing, mind-changing journey here, it's tempting to write about it all the time. You know how it is? Like when you've read a book or a film you wish everyone could see. Or you've had an adventure and you want to show all the pictures? You want to sit everyone down to your slide show, share with them the smells, the sights, the sounds, the tastes. You want to sit and talk for hours about how you feel and how the adventure has changed you.

But maybe not everyone wants to hear about the journey, or maybe they're tired. Maybe they want to hear a little, then go to bed, or, you know, do their laundry? Maybe people want to hear about the other parts of your life, outside the Voyage that Made Everything Different. Maybe they want to know about your days, the walk you had on the beach, a moment with your kids that made you smile.

It's about balance, I suppose. And though we're leaning far and fully into our New Path, I understand it's good to look around. Notice the other stuff. Write about the other Stuff. It's important.

With that in mind,

I'm thinking that I'll write about our Vegie Adventures on Wednesdays.

I'll write about the things we've learned, the books we've read. I'll write about the hard stuff and the good stuff—stuff that involves delicious recipes, and tales of hunting for vegan cheese. I'll write about how we're feeling and coping with a diet that is so different and new for us (but becoming more normal, every day). I'll post links to things I care about and to information, to resources, articles and books, and to organisations I believe are making a difference. Some of my words might feel heavy. I'm hoping most of my words will bring light, along with new ideas and a simple view into how a family can live this journey. I want it to be a space where Real and True can sit alongside Hope and Respect and Love.

All this?

Wow.

On a single day labeled "Vegie Wednesdays"?

Yes, I say!

I mean, there's R U Ok day, and there's Daffodil Day and there's Talk Like a Pirate Day. Look at the difference those single days have made.

And they have. In the best possible ways.

I hope I can make some kind of difference too. This issue matters, so much, to me.

(The issue being, in the broadest biggest sense, the respectful, humane treatment of all living creatures on this earth. In the smallest sense, finding ways to eat that don't cause suffering to others).

So I know my day doesn't have quite the ring of those days, or the reach.
(And I know the name isn't so crash hot, but I can't think of a better one right now! Suggestions?)

But, and this is what matters really,
it's a start.

It's something, which (I've heard and so they say),

is always more than nothing.

So I'm launching this Day officially, right now. Cue the champagne bottle on a string! Cue the orchestra (or should it just be a drum roll?). Cue the marching band and the release of the doves! Cue the scissors and the ribbon.

Smash! Bang! Parrump! Flap! Snip!

There. That's done.


And now I'm off to make pancakes with oat milk and fresh laid eggs from our chickens,

who are
this minute,

pa-cark!ing loudly outside as they search for grubs in the grass.

(and if you can't or don't have eggs, here's a recipe (my first Vegie Wednesdays link!) to some vegan pancakes. You could totally use nut, oat or rice milk in place of the soy. I haven't tried this recipe, but I should, don't you think?)

Soon, my girl and her sleepover friend will wake and come sleepily down the stairs. My boy will be tousle-haired and have his black pants on as always. My kids will smile and come, as they always do, for morning cuddles.

The dog will roll on his back some time today,
and wag his tale in the delicious sunlight.

We'll go to buy my son's new Scout shirt and eat a yummy vegan lunch at the Buddhist temple for a treat.

Music will get played.
And stories will be told.

Toys will have silly voices given to them and they'll have adventures. And a whole lot of laughing will happen. I know it.


It's going to be a beautiful day.


:)

Next week: I'm going to write a review of the book I just read. It's called Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer. It was extraordinary and painful, enlightening and heartfelt. Which is kind of like life at its purest, isn't it?

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