Sunday, September 25, 2011

Nature vs. Nurture, Cont.

When the Mister and I married some 11 years ago, our biggest newlywed fights were mainly his carnivorous ways clashing with my vegetarian ways.

He'd angrily fixate a toxic stare at me and complain that he went from eating 2 meats per meal, 3 meals a day, to eating meat maybe only once a day, as if I should feel sorry for him. (I'm dead serious here.) I'd wail that he was marring my precious new wedding gift cookware with animal carcass (I'm serious here as well; I would cry.)

Ahhh, young newlywed love.

Fast forward through those years, we rarely now argue about food. I still eat a primarily vegetarian diet, and we eat mostly vegetarian meals each week, with about 3-4 meat meals mixed in there (I'm included lunches for a total of 14 meals a week, since we are a homeschool family and I cook 3 meals a day at home, every day.) I'm selective about the meats I purchase, and the Mister's subsequent blood pressure and cholesterol issues make him selective about the carcasses he consumes.

This summer the Mister went deep water fishing and brought home over 40 pounds of king salmon, coho salmon and lake trout. I gladly partake in those meals.

We also purchased 15 chickens from a friend whose father raises free-range, organic birds (at $1.50 per pound, so it's a great deal from an environmental standpoint, a local economy standpoint, and our checkbook standpoint.)

The Mister is pretty satisfied with our home menu, and he can get his red meat fixation satiated with work meals.

Anyways, the Mister just returned with Hatfield and Atticus from the Homeschool Father/Child Weekend Camp Out. With a pack of hot dogs in tow.

Miss Paloma's FAVORITE food are hot dogs. FAVORITE.

Clearly, this is a Nature dynamic, I thought.

So, this afternoon at lunch, Paloma was gleefully sitting down to dig into her hot dog, when she pauses and asks if she can have some pepperoni to put on her hot dog.

I nearly vomited, and instead ran out to share my grossed-outedness to the Mister.

"You'll never guess what your daughter wants to put on her hot dog. Pepperoni!" I gagged, expecting even that combination to elicit a WTH response from the Mister.

"No problem. I think we have some in the garage fridge. . . " he said, about to retrieve it for his little Pepperoni Princess.

Given the fact that her father was perfectly willing to put pepperoni on her hot dog, without even blinking, is making me realize that I now have the double whammy of nature and nurture working against me.


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

As our oldest daughter wittily put it, "What in the Hellenistic Age was I thinking?"

-Mr. Meat, meat, and an extra side of meat to go along with my diet cola.