Parenting and happiness (or lack thereof)

This is a very interesting article in NY Mag about whether kids make one happier or not, and I like this analysis of the article on the Golden Notebooks blog as well. As the article mentions, I sometimes worry that I'm not spending enough "quality time" with Anton. Because, these days, he spends a lot of time either in his ridiculously festooned "activity center" or his Jolly Jumper. He seems to enjoy them, but I feel guilty sometimes for not coming up with bonding/educational activities all day long. Yet, he seems content, stopping every few minutes to look up at me and grin.

Does he make me happier? That's a complicated question. I've heard people say that if you don't have kids, you'll never know how much you could love someone. I think that's true. My love for Anton is a different kind of love than I've ever experienced. But it's also scary sometimes, to love someone so tiny and vulnerable. It causes me a lot of worry.

I certainly have moments of joy with him - many of them, every day. I like taking walks with him, giving him baths, snuggling in the morning, etc. In this way, ours is one of the most rewarding relationships I've ever had. But I don't so much like trying to figure out why he's fussy, trying to get him to sleep, and having him cry while I'm attempting to cook dinner.

But then, isn't that always the way, with someone or something you love? I think about my relationship to theater. There were certainly times when I was so busy and stressed and disappointed in others' behavior, and disappointed in my own results that it seemed absurd that this was something I was choosing to do, for very little (or no) money. Yet, I adore theater. I miss it, when I'm not involved. I would never quit theater for good.

I think the article's focus on the importance of useful, productive activity is a good point. I disagree with the idea that children's lives should be all play and fun. I like the idea of working on something with Anton someday, like a theater project...teaching him "the trade" and all that. His father feels the same way about getting him interested in science, I think.

And, interestingly, having Anton gives me more moments of feeling accomplished, simply because doing anything while caring for a baby feels like an achievement. So when I manage to write a revised chapter for my novel, cook a fabulous dinner, complete a workout DVD, etc., I feel pretty damn good about myself. In less busy times of my life, I often wasted all day online or whatever and didn't get anything of substance done, and that made me depressed. Having too much free time can be dangerous. Knowing you only have an hour or so before the baby wakes from a nap can be an excellent motivator.

So, am I happier overall? I know I'm happy not to be pregnant anymore. I know I'm happy to be married. And, while I don't always feel that I "have it all" (who does?), I know that I can't even imagine my life without Anton, now that he's here.

A new low for football fans.

When I lived in the French Quarter, I found the college football crowds to be pretty intolerable. And yeah, living in the Quarter and complaining about obnoxious drunk people is kind of like, I don't know, moving to Alaska and complaining about the cold? But seriously, they took it to another level. Still, I was very disturbed when I heard about this "teabagging" incident that happened after the big LSU-Alabama game in New Orleans last weekend. Seriously, what possesses a human being to treat another human being like that? Watching the video was pretty horrifying for me. I said to David, "this is sexual assault."

Well, the NOPD agrees, and is taking it seriously. And now the perpetrator has turned himself in, and has already lost his job, and I hope he faces criminal charges. Because sexual assault is not a joke, and it doesn't matter what team your victim roots for, or how drunk they are, or if they're a man. I'm glad that message is getting out, because while I wish that people would treat each other decently, and not seek to degrade and punish others simply because of alcohol consumption and football team affiliations, that is clearly not going to happen, so maybe criminal charges will be a deterrent - especially in this day and age where it seems everything is being filmed.

My favorite vegan cookbook

I own 15 vegan cookbooks. I love vegan cookbooks. But I love this one the most.


This is my Betty Crocker/Joy of Cooking/all-purpose cookbook. Of course, I love Veganomicon as much as the next vegan, and Vegan Soul Kitchen has some really interesting stuff, but this one takes the egg-less cake because there are so many recipes that don't call for rare or expensive ingredients. It's really accessible and simple to find something yummy to make, mostly with stuff I already have on hand.

I decided to count how many of the recipes I've tried in the year or so that I've owned this cookbook. The result? 23. Only 23! That means I have 977 more to try! There are entire sections of the cookbook I haven't even explored!

Since I've been on my soup-for-dinner kick, I've been stuck in that section quite a bit. I tend to stick to soups with some kind of bean in them, since it's all we're having for dinner and I want to make sure we get some protein. The split pea and minestrone I've made several times. Last night I made the "Mulligatawny" soup, which incorporated some of David's favorite things (cilantro, Granny Smith apple) and some of my favorite things (coconut milk, lentils, ginger), and it was fabulous, if a bit on the labor-intensive side.

I don't know how Robin Robertson came up with 1000 Vegan Recipes, but I am very grateful that she did. If you only buy one vegan cookbook, this should be it! I would also recommend this to non-vegans who want to incorporate more veggies and healthy stuff into their lives.

That thin line between dream and reality

So, the dream I had last night was a pretty good dreamworld interpretation of my life right now.

I was at a party hosted by my Aunt and Uncle (who live in Massachusetts, I have no clue where we were supposed to be though, because it was this building with endless hallways and rooms that I've never seen before). There was lots of food, but I couldn't find anything vegan. Various relatives took turns holding Anton while I searched for something I could eat. My sister told me there were several huge pizzas in one room, but of course they all had cheese on them.

I would see something that looked vegan, only to find it wasn't once I put it on my plate. For example, what I thought was a plain salad turned out to be a Caesar salad, and cut up fruit turned out to have cottage cheese on it.

Then, somehow, there was an NTI reunion going on in the same building. We were divided into groups, and given a scene to work on and present. My group's scene was from Shakespeare's Coriolanus. The group decided I should play the title character. But then I realized I hadn't seen Anton in what seemed like hours. I searched all through the building, running into various relatives, and none of them could remember when they'd last seen him, or who had been holding him.

So I ended up full of anxiety, wanting to find him but knowing my group was waiting for me to rehearse our scene. I was also worried that if I didn't nurse him soon I would leak onto my shirt and therefore fail to portray a male character convincingly (ha!).

I began to wake up, and realize that Anton was sleeping next to me. I was torn between relief that he wasn't lost and sadness that I had to leave the dream world before I got to act in the scene from Coriolanus.

Where there's smoke...

I went into town to go mail some Paperback Swap books, and, on my drive back, noticed a huge plume of smoke ahead. I worried at first, wondering if it could be coming from my neighborhood. But as I came closer, I saw that it was a pile of recently felled pine trees, burning away. There were dozens more piles - a huge swath of woods had been rapidly cut down. A sign proclaimed that it was the site of the new "Evangeline Trace" subdivision.

My heart fell. If all these trees had to die, couldn't they at least be used for something? I had heard about "slash and burn" practices in the rainforest, but I was honestly ignorant that it happened so close to home.

And then I turned into the "Livingston Trace" subdivision, where I live.

I almost wrote "not really by choice" after "where I live" in the sentence above. Because, sure, this isn't where I would choose to live - my husband bought this house before we met. But that was just me trying to make an excuse for my part in this whole thing.

I'm vegan, we cart our recycling into Baton Rouge once a month, we compost, we use cloth diapers and napkins, I do Paperback Swap...but it all seems so insignificant when I'm forced to really see the kind of environmental destruction caused by my lifestyle. I'm sure there's so much more I'm still ignorant about.

Things I used to do, like walking or biking for work and errands, aren't even possible with this new suburban lifestyle. The roads are narrow, with no sidewalks and ditches along them which make it dangerous. Besides, there's nothing within walking distance.

I don't want to be a part of this, but I feel powerless.

Why do smart women defend schmucks?

I've been reading all this stuff over at Feministe about this Hugo Schwyzer person (with whom I wasn't familiar before this), and my first reaction was annoyance and dismay at seeing several women (feminists, even!) defend someone who, to me, comes across as a narcissistic schmuck. To be fair, most people there are *not* defending him, but I was unhappy that some still were. Why would women do this? I asked myself.

And then I had to admit, I've done it too. Not online, but in "real life," which is arguably worse. I've known some narcissistic schmucks in my time, and some of them immediately disgusted me, while others I befriended and defended. They could be such nice guys, you see. They were in a lot of pain, you see. But most of all, if I am to be completely honest, it was about how much they seemed to like me. Using flattery to charm people is a really basic charmer tactic which should be obvious, but I have certainly had blind spots in this area when I was the one being flattered. It seems Mr. Schwyzer does help some feminist women promote their own work, and I could see how after receiving that kind of assistance could make one less able to see Mr. Schwyzer's flaws. [It is important to note the huge heap of privilege that put Mr. Schwyzer in such a position to "help" others, because, no, I don't think it's just luck or brilliance that gave him such a relatively big platform.]

There's also the fact that Mr. Schwyzer claims to have reformed from a past that included womanizing and addiction. And I will say that forgiveness is a big part of my personal value system, so I don't think he should necessarily be written off for his past. The problem, as I see it, is that although he may be sober, he is still locked in this dynamic of trying to get adoring female attention and causing harm while doing so. Which is not very feminist.

So, while my first instinct was to join the chorus of "he sucks and you suck if you defend him," I'm trying instead to find a lesson in this (blame it on that Dalai Lama book I just read!). Here are some things I think are helpful, at least for me, in the quest to NOT be a schmuck-defender:

1) Take praise graciously, but with a grain of salt. Humans are social creatures, and if feels good when we or are work is admired by others, and that's fine. It can help give us the confidence to keep moving forward. But it isn't everything. Constructive criticism can be more helpful in terms of actual improvement. And consider the motives of the person giving the praise.

2) Forgive when possible, but don't excuse or forget. And if you want others' forgiveness, know that simply admitting the wrongs you did and feeling ashamed are not heroic acts you deserve a medal for. You don't even "deserve" the forgiveness of those you wronged. That is their decision. And then, regardless of whether you are forgiven, making amends is an active, ongoing process that doesn't end with the confession. If someone keeps apologizing while continuing their harmful behavior, call them on it, and/or remove them from your life, depending on the situation. People CAN change, and they probably need the feedback of caring but firm people to help them continue to grow. They do not need ego-stroking or to be placed in situations that will tempt them to revert to old behavior patterns (like Mr. Schwyzer's job teaching young women).

3) Examine your own internalized misogyny. This is a big one for me. I can definitely not claim to be free of the desire for male approval. I need to actively remind myself that a compliment from a man is not more valuable than a compliment from a woman. It's OK for certain men not to like me. Men don't deserve "extra credit points." It sounds ridiculous, but it's old programming I still have to fight.

4) Avoid being a schmuck by working to eliminate defensiveness. This is a huge, huge one for me. When I'm criticized, I sometimes catch myself forming my rebuttal even before the other person gets through a sentence. My husband has called me on this before. Most of the narcissistic schmucks I've known had very well constructed walls of denial built around themselves, so not even the tiniest reproach could get through. I don't want to be like this. So I think it's key to listen to criticism from people who care about me. Not random jerks or abusive people or whatever. But people who care about me have an outside perspective on me, which I can never have. I don't always have to think they're 100% correct, but I should at least listen and give it some thought.

Soup.

We're on a soup-for-dinner diet. I decided to do this in the hopes that it might counteract any holiday treat-eating. And also because the ingredients tend to be cheap. And also because most soup recipes feed us for at least two days, so I don't have to cook something new every day.

I figure I'll stick with it until we get sick of it.

So far I've made a curried red lentil and butternut squash soup, split pea soup, minestrone, and mafe (African peanut stew). We usually have homemade bread too (I have a bread machine and make a whole wheat flax bread).

I sometimes joke that I'm going to write a book called "Eat Like A Peasant," which will be all about staying healthy by eating rice and beans and soup, etc. Hey, if people want to eat like cavemen, maybe they'd go for eating like peasants, right?

(And if the first book was successful, I'd then write "Parent Like A Peasant," because I get so annoyed with the suggestion that only rich people should have kids, when many rich kids I knew had not-so-great parents and turned into depressed and annoying brats. But I digress.)