Because I’m vegan, many people assume I wear billowy tunics over yoga pants, enjoy camping, and/or engage in frequent protests. You know—that I’m the crunchy-granola type.
Generally speaking, no. I prefer designer clothes, detest sleeping anywhere that lacks a clean bed and private shower, and have a don’t-rock-the-boat personality ill-suited to getting in people’s faces. Though I respect everyone’s views, I won’t be occupying Wall Street anytime soon.
At the same time, trying to recover Martin is making me crunchier. I’ve already banned artificial-chemical-based cleaning products from our home. Our food is organic, and I spend a lot of time on farms picking it out. Our water is filtered, twice.
The ingredient list of Martin’s body wash reads like the recipe for a fragrant dessert: organic coconut oil, organic olive oil, organic aloe leaf juice, organic vanilla bean extract, organic orange oil, kosher vegetable glycerin, potassium citrate, organic shea butter, and organic calendula extract. I firmly believe that, in the event of New York City food shortage, my family could live several weeks, quite salubriously, off Martin’s body wash.
Martin spends more than 12 hours per day in contact with his mattress and sheets, so I’m on the hunt for a natural mattress. I’ve found them for babies. So far nothing in toddler/child size, though. Same for sheets. I may need to replace his toddler bed with a big-boy bed in order to get organic, undyed sheets that fit.
And now I’m learning about flame retardants applied to most children’s pajamas, and how they might affect Martin’s brain. In fact, dyes and treatments used on children’s garments in general may pose neuro-sensitivity hazards. So I’m shopping for organic clothes. Jeans, a three-season coat, and pajamas arrived today.
Have you ever had occasion to note the cost of organic clothes for kids? Martin’s wardrobe is about to get a whole lot more limited.
Shower curtain liners are made with PVC. Get them hot and steamy, it seems, and they’ll release those chemicals into the atmosphere. I used to worry about litter-box fumes. Now it’s eau de PVC. I just ordered a hemp shower curtain. I’ve become Woody Harrelson.
Bottom line: The crunchy-granola life may be my destiny after all. I just can’t believe the toxins to which we expose children every day.
It’s almost enough to make a protester out of me.