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Articles and Information
A Drive-through Journey: Our trek from cheese to cheeseless
by Tammie Ortlieb
Okay, maybe it's not healthy, but I've got four kids and we eat out. We eat out a lot. And we like it. I can hear the gasps now, the murmurs. What a horrible mother I am. How lacking in maternal instinct. Truth be told, I could care less. I have absolutely no guilt pangs, no feelings of inadequacy because I'm not dishing up more home baked bread and bean soup.
It's a hobby, really. Some people shop. We pick up kids' meals. And, no, the slovenly practice has not contributed to unwanted pounds-at least not in my children. They are tall and lanky like their father. And they do know how to make good choices.
Up until about a year ago we enjoyed this hobby of ours without so much as a thought. American culture caters quite nicely to the fast food generation. In our snippet of suburbia alone I could eat for weeks without pulling through the same drive-through twice.
Last spring, my two teenagers put the brakes on our little fun with their pronouncement that they had gone vegetarian. What?! How will we ever step foot in a McDonald's again? With visions of Birkenstocks and incense floating through my head, I couldn't quite think past fries and cheese pizza.
A few months later, hands on hips and head held high, my six-year-old proclaimed she, too, was joining the veggie crowd. Great, just great! This was becoming more work than all the Spock and Brazelton literature had prepared me for.
To throw an extra curve into the game, my ten-year-old remains every bit of the T-rex he was, gnawing and gnashing to the complete disgust of the others. One night over dinner at the local roadhouse, steak drenching his gravy laden potatoes, he states that he will never, not ever, be a vegetarian.
In fact, fast food places cater to these meat-loving tots. Cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets load most every toy-filled bag that passes those laminate counters. It is assumed, I guess, that children under the age of ten don't eat vegetables of any kind save for those that are soaked in vats of grease.
So, loaded with nothing more than a few dollars and some hungry tummies, we set out on our veggie food hunt. It became our mission to seek out every piece of lettuce, potato, and cheese that lurked among what could have hopped off our plates had it been alive. Not only was our hunt successful, but we needed help reeling in the catch.
We brought home bags of burritos, quesadillas, veggie burgers, and baked potatoes. We picnicked on grilled cheese, bread sticks, and subs. We sat back in our chairs stuffed from cups of chili made without the meat; asked for seconds on the salad. Oh, the joy, the great American joy, to once again hear the words, "Would you like fries with that?"
Finally, I am back in my happy place. The place where the words crackle and you can never quite understand exactly what that pimply teen in the little window is going to hand you. The place where they smile and say, "Thank you, come again." The place where, if it's not there in thirty minutes, it's free.
My daughter walked in from the bus the other day. Backpack tossed on the floor, shoes kicked under the bench, and dogs patted and given their obligatory hello, she proceeds to the counter for snack. I've laid out some cheddar cubes and the fattest seedless grapes I could find.
"Oh, mother," she says, "REAL vegetarians don't eat dairy. I'm vegan now. Get used to it." Cripes! But my mind races-bean burritos hold the cheese, veggie subs no mayo. And already I am finding that happy place.
Tammie, an at-home mother of four and vegan-wannabe, has her Masters in the field of Developmental Psychology. Her essays have appeared in Positively Woman and BusyParentsOnline.
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