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Articles and Information
Mixed Marriages: How compromise can work in the family
by Mary E. Williams
I've always patted myself on the back for keeping journals over the years. They are obviously rich sources for the memories they hold and the sheer pleasure I take in a writing habit. But another reason that I didn't expect jumped off the pages of my hand-written notes on a recent reading: I have a concise record of how many times my body was sending my brain loud and clear messages for me to go vegan!
Some entries read like advertisements for antacids, minus the picture of me frowning and bloated: "Went to dinner with Jeff. He seems nice. Pesto. Ouch…" or "Quiet lunch with Bill at a great table outside. How many more places can these people find to hide cheese?!"
Reading these journal entries, I found evidence over and over of how many times I had toyed with become vegetarian and how boyfriends found it strange, annoying and even suspicious! So, instead of listening to my body, I always decided to appease the boyfriend… and order the burger.
It took until I was single to first become vegetarian and then ultimately, vegan. I learned of John McDougall and his writings through a talk show we were airing at the radio station where I worked, and I went straight out and bought it and literally devoured each word and idea! I embraced whole foods and healthy eating and exercise and shed 30 pounds in no time. At 30 years old, I felt 17 again! And so, when I met my husband, I was already a strict vegan and not about to turn back! He never questioned or judged my choices, nor did I question or judge his, even when, on our second date, he confessed to loving every edible part of a pig.
When we first married, I was excited about preparing inventive meals for us to share at the dinner table. I would spend free moments daydreaming about the night's menu, "Candlelight! The good plates! Brown rice croquettes with tahini/ginger sauce! Baby carrots! Carob cake for dessert!"
After it became clear he was not about to dabble in any vegetable or grain other than cucumbers and corn, and I got weary of wearing plastic bags on my hands while touching and cooking his raw chickens, we came to an understanding: He would not only cook his own meals, but also clean up the plates and dishes afterward and not let any meat-related packaging linger in the garbage basket longer than five minutes. My compromise in the matter was that I would not sneak any more tofu, rice milk, or unrefined sugars into baked goods and pass them off as "just like Mom's." Let's just say, he's kept up with his end of the deal amazingly well.
Though not the dinner-at-the-table-every-night marriage I had envisioned, this compromise of tastes and eating habits worked quite well for us, and not long after our "mixed" marriage, I was delighted again at the prospect of preparing and sharing vegan meals with another.
Our daughter was born two years ago, and my husband and I both agreed we would raise her as a vegan until she was old enough to understand the choice. However, her curiosity with "Daddy food" is already immense and she's drawn to his plate again and again with questions for him.
When speaking to our daughter, it feels not unlike a conversation you've had with a foreign-exchange student who's never seen or tasted the local cuisine, "Daddy, whatzat you are eating?" "That's daddy's pizza." "Oh. Zat cheese on der??" "Yes, that's cheese." "From zee cow?" "Yes, from a cow." "Not from ze soybean?" "No." "Oh. Zat sauce on der, too?" "Yes, that's sauce." "Meat in it?" "Yes, there's meat in it." "Oh. You eat it, Daddy. I just will smell it."
These exchanges are funny to us now, but I'm concerned she'll judge her father for eating meat when she's older and realizes the sources for Daddy's dinner, or even more frightening to her vegan mother, what if she switches sides?!
So, this mixed family-one omnivore, a vegan and a mini-vegan-takes it day by day, meal by meal, and situation by situation. My husband is so supportive of raising our daughter vegan. He has always gone out of his way to make bi-weekly trips to the health food store for grocery items he wouldn't touch with a 10-foot pole, and he always makes sure we have plenty of menu choices if we're dining out. And probably most gallant, he has never made her feel as if she's missing something that may be sitting on Daddy's plate. In other words, plenty of rich entries to write in my book of days for future reading.
Mary E. Williams is a stay-at-home mom and has been vegan since 1998. She lives in Hollywood, CA, with her husband Mike, daughter Bear and their two cats, Simon and Horton.
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