I decided that this year for Mother’s Day, I wanted you to pick out everything for Mommy yourself.
That’s right, I would simply be your accomplice as I snuck you out of school during your Friday afternoon nap and wisked you away to Hallmark and Whole Foods.
Honestly, you did a great job of picking Mommy’s gifts:
A pretty new summer scarf and Winnie the Pooh card from Hallmark, along with Mommy’s favorite kind of licorice and some pink lilies from Whole Foods.
I had been preparing you all week:
“Okay Jack, you and me are going to get Mommy some gifts for Mother’s Day, but it’s our little secret until Sunday.”
And I purposely waited until Friday for our dadventure to take care of these gifts, should it be too much temptation for you to spill the beans to Mommy.
But as soon as we stepped into the house on Friday, two days before Mother’s Day, you invited Mommy to the trunk of our car where we had her gifts stored.
Granted, you were already presenting Mommy with her flowers two days early, but that was supposed to be the only thing you gave her before Mother’s Day.
Mommy and I both attempted to explain to you that those gifts were meant to be a surprise.
But after about 7 minutes of you crying and screaming in the hallway, you finally blurted out, “It’s a scarf!”
At that point, I gave up and Mommy got to celebrate Mother’s Day early, by receiving her scarf.
Well, at least we made her wait for the candy and card.
From here on out, I plan repeat this same formula each year: Secretly take you away to pick out Mommy’s gifts for Mother’s Day.
I’ll be interested in learning which year your gifts actually get to remain a surprise!
It was just a tiny little Mother’s Day mishap this year, that’s all.
She still had a wonderful time with you and me today. Actually, she thought the scarf incident was pretty funny.
As for me, the “it’s a scarf!” part will probably be what I remember most about Mother’s Day 2014, years from now.
Last Saturday morning after you and Mommy made Strawberry Banana Quesadillas for breakfast, which we all loved, we decided to use the creative parts of our brains by doing some artwork together.
In our closet, you discovered some colorful foam sheets to draw on with markers. Mommy and I drew some animals per your request, while you worked on abstract pictures.
After each time you finished a new work of art, you held out the newly colored foam sheet in air and announced your next creation:
“Hey Daddy, look… this is a Skittle Fan. I think it’s an animal.”
You then explained to me your intentions. You planned to make enough works of art so that you can give one to each of your friends at school. Awesome idea!
My favorite was the last one you did. You announced to me:
“Daddy, this one is a dark, sedway moon. I think I dream about these things at night.”
Dark, sedway moon… So mysterious, so profound.
What if you really do dream about dark, “sedway” moons and your artwork is actually a window to what you dream about at night?
What if your abstract dreams will predict the future of what will happen in real life? Like a prophetic dream?
What if this is the premise of a PG-13 rated psychological thriller movie starring Robert De Niro or Greg Kinnear?
I think it could be. Hollywood will be calling me soon for the movie rights… I’m sure of it.
Or maybe I’m thinking too much into it. Actually, I think I just figured it out right now as I’m typing this: Maybe “sedway” is just your way of trying to say “side of,” as in, “dark side of the moon.”
Maybe you and I should play Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of The Moon while watching The Wizard of Oz. Or at least watch the 3rd Transformers movie.
I wasn’t even for sure that you dreamt at all yet. Now I know.
You are a fascinating kid, you know that?
Just another typical Saturday morning: Strawberry banana quesadillas and dark side of the moon.
Starting today, I’m inviting the social media universe to “AMA”… ask me anything regarding our plant-based lifestyle.
I grew up during a time when it was normal to put my faith in finding the cure for cancer and disease by mailing in yogurt lids, running in races, and wearing ribbons.
Turns out, your dad is one of those people who is attempting to positively (not narcissistically) set the record straight for anyone with sincere, curious questions; making myself a human Guinea pig for the world to see.
People who are like me believe there already is a cure for these cancers and diseases…but that the cure comes in a very inconvenient format:
Obviously, I won’t live forever in this body and I don’t believe that a 100% plant-based diet makes me invincible. Still, I don’t want my future years with you to include me having diabetes or cancer, knowing there might be something I could have done to keep it from happening.
But I suppose until a person watches Forks Over Knives on Netflix, it’s difficult for them to see the simple scientific and historical connection between animal product consumption and disease.
(This is TMI, but I stopped producing white or any colored mucus the weekend I became a vegan. It has only been clear and minimal since my conversion last April; not to mention, no sinus pressure or infections since then, whereas I previously had those issues for 22 years straight.)
And that as a vegan, by default, I consume less than 1% of my daily allowance of cholestrol for each day, because there’s not enough cholesterol in plants to register more than 0.99%.
I’ve checked a lot of nutritional labels over the past year, and have yet to find anything I eat (even “fatty” avocados, cashews, and almonds) that registers as more than “0%,” even though plant-based food do contain some cholestrol.
Granted, I personally understand the skepticism…
I’ve mentioned that just a few weeks before becoming a vegan, I made the statement, “Vegan are idiots!” Now here I am, having consumed no animal products in over a year.
Still breathing, full of energy, with no more allergy and sinus problems, with a weaker prescription for my glasses, and am overall healthier than I’ve ever been in my life.
To some, I am a walking contradiction. How can a person who eats no meat, dairy, eggs, or animal bi-products (marshmallows, pudding, candy containing artificial food dyes, etc.) get enough protein, fat, and vitamins?
It could be easy to assume, if nothing else, I’m secretly hungry all the time. Yet I’m not. When I’m hungry, I eat- and then I’m not hungry anymore.
Once I nixed animal products from my diet, I was forced to get the “living” nutrition from the unprocessed fruits, vegetables, beans, grains, nuts, and seeds that I was previously neglecting because I was instead consuming animal products and pseudo “healthy snacks” like yogurt, granola bars, and diet soda.
As a new wave vegan, who chooses a plant-based diet not necessarily because of animals’ rights but instead because of the obvious health benefits, I want to be a positive, inviting example of our family’s lifestyle.
What I want to do is start making myself more available and present, in real life and on social media, for curious people who have honest, sincere questions about how we live.
In the process, you will learn more about why our family lives the way we do. After all, you and Mommy are almost completely plant-based as well.
I wonder what people will ask me, now that they know that a friendly, mostly sane vegan is giving an open platform to ask questions about our plant-based lifestyle… I’m ready.
For the past several weeks on the drive home, I found a lesser discoverd route by driving through connected neighborhoods.
You named it “the new Daddy way.”
Even though we take that way home every day now, you still ask for it by name each time we hop in the car.
Part of the need for this new way home is the congestion on our former route, as Concord Road is being destroyed and people’s front lawns are being taken away…
I mean… the road is being widened to accommodate the traffic which we’re a part of.
But today, I drove home the construction site way because I thought there was an $8 sale going on at Great Clips. (I was wrong; it ended yesterday. Womp-womp.)
It had been nearly a month since you got to see the new version of that old familiar road.
You screamed out from the back seat today:
“Hey Daddy, it’s the white crane! He’s back!”
That’s right. To you, the giant crane is a he. Like a dinosaur.
It’s such a majestic sight to see all that construction equipment.
You sat in awe in the back seat.
I guess it’s not everyday you get to see such monstrous machines so close up.
It’s like cheap entertainment. (Well, actually, it’s our tax dollars affording that entertainment. Right?)
I found this infograph which shows the weight, horsepower, and average used price of several pieces of staple construction equipment.
For example, if we wanted to save up our money as a family, we might eventually (!) be able to buy a good bulldozer, for example, for about a half million dollars.
That would definitely make us the coolest family on the block!
But until we can put a solid down payment on one, you can just appreciate the “free” entertainment from the 2nd row seat.
You’re a much more daring little boy than I was at 3 years old; 30 years ago back in 1984.
Last week while test driving a Lexus IS-F for my other writing gig, you and I discovered a passageway that connects the trunk to the back set.
It’s a very small passageway, barely big enough for me to fit my head through.
We had just gotten home from school and you wanted to play in the car while Mommy started dinner.
With you in the trunk while the trunk door was open, I walked over to back seat passageway to look at you from the other side.
But in the 5 seconds it took me to get there, you had already decided to see if you could fit through the hole, and sure enough, you did. You squeezed through!
There you were, so proud of yourself for being my little proactive spelunker.
I admit, I find it quite impressive. That’s a good skill to have, right?
We learned a few days later that Mommy’s Honda Accord, as well as the Hyundai Azerawe’re driving this week, have similar passageways.
(I wonder if other little 3 year-olds across America have discovered this cool trick too?)
Like a Parrothead enjoying touring all the Margaritavilles in the world, you are now making a hobby out of crawling through various car trunks to the back seat.
I’ve been supervising the whole thing each day for the past week as I let you play in the car until dinner time.
That’s what dads are for, right? It’s part of my job description to help lead you to these adventures, also known asdadventures.
There are just some things you’re going to exclusively discover and experience thanks to your daddy. This is probably one of them.
