As a kid, I spent a lot of time and disposable income at the local pizza parlor, which had a room filled with quarter-play video games. I have cultivated years worth of self esteem out of the fact that, for a few days in the summer of 1988, I was the undisputed champion of Commando.

I’ve been told – repeatedly, and generally by people whose business it’s none of – that I expose my kids to too much media, and let them play too many video games. My past protestations notwithstanding, I’ve decided that they’re right…but for all the wrong reasons. You really want to keep your kids away from video games because otherwise:

1. They Will Bogart Your Devices

Before I had an iPhone, I had an iPod Touch 4. It was a thing of technological beauty – lightweight, and with high-definition graphics sparkling enough to make a grown man weep for joy. Had the gay rights movement succeeded in fully crushing the institution of marriage beneath its platform high heel, I might have married it. (Gays: work harder.)

Don’t make me wait until the year 3000 to marry my Kindle.

Alas, once I bought an iPhone, I sold the Touch. I figured, who the hell needs both?

Then my kids cajoled me into downloading Angry Birds. Which had two baleful consequences:

1. I got addicted to Angry Birds; and
2. I NEVER SAW MY IPHONE AGAIN.

2. They Will Bury Your High Scores

It’s not bad enough that my kids steal my devices: they return them along with a pile of tattered cloths representing what’s left of my ego.

The latest high score battlefield is Temple Run, a silly little free game for iOs in which you run for your life through an Indiana Jones-esque obstacle course and pick up coins, all while outpacing a pack of angry ghouls who are always a fraction of a second away from having your liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. It’s stupid, it’s repetitive, and it’s addictive as hell.

This is the screenshot I’m sending in with my unemployment application under “Reason for Termination”.

And I have only held the high score on the damned thing ONCE. The reigning high score champion is, naturally, my eight year old son, who never fails to hand back my own device with a big grin on his face and my previous high score smashed to oblivion. He’s quite proud that he can decimate his old man where it counts.

Stupid kids. They make me look bad.

3. They Will P0wn You on the International Stage

My son Jaxon and I play at least through rounds of Halo: Reach whenever he comes over. Our preference is an online game type called Living Dead, in which half of the players are shotgun-equipped “survivors”, and the other half are “zombies” with energy swords. Zombies have indefinite lives; survivors become zombies after their first death. In other words, it’s just like reality.

“Gimme my energy sword!!”

The best games we have together are the ones in which we’re both survivors. The worst are the ones in which I start off a survivor and he starts off as a zombie. Why? Because he usually kills me in under 5.9 seconds. No matter how good I get at the goddamn game (and, admittedly, I’m only fair to middlin’), it’s never enough to keep my own son from thrashing my ass. Were I to look down at my character’s feet whenever Jaxon approaches, I’m sure I’d see him standing in a puddle of his own fear.

If this keeps up, I’m sending him to work so I can stay home and hone my Halo skills. This “having a full time job” nonsense is seriously crimping my gamer cred.

You know, some people always need to up the ante. Go vegetarian, and the asshole next to you (hi) will proclaim he’s a vegan. Go vegan, and your hippier-than-thou neighbor will go raw, and guilt you out for cooking your kale. You can’t win.

The same holds true, apparently, in the world of abstinence-only proselytization, a.k.a., sexual ignorance education. Abstinence-only? Pfffft. That’s so 1990s. Real backwards-looking troglodytes, like the ones currently ruling the great state of Tennessee, have upped the ante: it’s now illegal in the state for any teacher to address “gateway sexual behavior”. (Bill summary)

What is “gateway sexual behavior”? Like most lamentable ideas, the new law is vague on this point. And that’s just how its supporters want it. For Tennessee Democratic (uuuugh) Rep. John DeBerry, “gateway sexual behavior” is like pornography – he knows it when he feels it in his crotch:

“Everybody in this room knows what gateway sexual activity is,” said state Rep. John DeBerry, D-Memphis, in his testimony to the Tennessee House of Representatives. “Everybody knows there are certain buttons when you push them, certain switches when you turn them on, there’s no stopping, especially for undisciplined, untrained, untaught and unraised children who just want to feel affection from somebody or anybody.”

Statements like this seem more like self-confessions than statement of sociological fact. One has to wonder whether DeBerry has ever had sex in his life, or has merely read about it in old issues of Reader’s Digest. Seriously – is it just me, or does this read like the creepiest justification for date rape ever uttered by a sitting legislator? (“I couldn’t help it, your honor; she pushed that button. You know the one.” “Indeed I do, son. Case dismissed!”)

But that’s not the best part. Some insist the definition is crystal clear:

Family Action Council President David Fowler, who drafted helped draft [sic] the bill, told the website PolitiFact.comthat the definition of “gateway sexual activity” is akin to the definition of “sexual contact” according to the state’s criminal law, which refers to the “intentional touching” of “the primary genital area, groin, inner thigh, buttock or breast of a human being.”

That’s right: we’re outlawing discussion of consensual sexual activity by reference to criminal statute. What kind of message is that sending to kids?

At any rate, while this may be what Fowler means by the term, the bill itself (PDF) is intentionally vague in its definition, classifying “gateway” behavior as “sexual contact encouraging an individual to engage in a non-abstinent behavior”; later, the bill forbids any “gateway sexual activity or health message that encourages students to experiment with non-coital sexual activity.” Which can include everything from cunnilingus to hair-stroking.

Tennessee, I’m so sorry. I believe you have the legislatures you voted for, but would never be so cruel as to say you’ve gotten the legislatures you deserve.

I’m an attachment parenting dad. I carried all of my kids around in baby slings. My kids’ mom breastfed late. All of them spent nights in our beds until the ages of three or even four. And you know what? I’m glad we did it. To this day, my kids and I are extremely close, and I give attachment parenting at least partial credit.

But I’m not dwelling under any delusions that other dads somehow are lesser entities, or love their kids any less because they coaxed their little buggers to stay in their own beds so they could resume having hot monkey sex with their spouses. There are days that parenting is an absolute joy. Then there are the days – often more numerous – when you’re locking yourself in the bathroom for a few minutes of peace, and counting down the seconds until you can slam your head into a pillow. We parents do what we need to do to make it to day’s end with our kids (and our sense of selves) intact. Nearly every attachment parent I’ve met takes the same attitude. We’re not judging other parents; we’re doing what we need to do to keep from going apeshit at the slightest provocation.

Of course, leave it to a major media publication to elevate attachment parenting into a “mommy war”. Moms across the nation had their commitment to their kids universally questioned this week by a provocative cover on Time “magazine”. (From what I understand, a “magazine” is like a blog printed on trees. Weird, right?) The cover asks, “Are you MOM ENOUGH?”, and shows attachment parenting mom Jamie Grumet breastfeeding her four-year-old son, all while looking into the camera with this kick-ass Sara Connor-esque “Just try and STOP me, motherfucker” look on her face.

It’s a great picture. And it’s a terrible title.

Moms are, understandably, pissed off at Time over the salacious title, and are going all medieval on the magazine’s ass. Blogger Jen Singer asked a good question: why does mainstream media never ask if dads are “dad enough”?

Well, they do – but with a twist. Remember the Huggies “Dad Test”, where Huggies “challenged” dads to change their kids’ diapers for five days? Oh NO! The HORROR!! Five DAYS of diaper changing! It’s like Hell, but with poop instead of fire!

As Jen observes, when you’re a dad, the bar is much lower. If you remember to send your kid out into sub-zero temperatures with a coat, you’re in line for Father of the Year. Mainstream media questions mom’s commitment; it questions dad’s competency. Note that it didn’t even occur to Time to take aim at dads on its cover. Attachment parenting is a “mom issue”. We don’t rate. Time’s just thankful if we dudes show up once a week to empty the diaper pail.

So, message to Time: knock that shit off. Leave moms alone. And message to media in general: parenting issues concern BOTH parents – whether that’s mom and dad, both dads, or both moms.

(And, yes: I changed diapers. Constantly. And they were cloth. Up yours, Huggies.

I’m a vegan. I’m also a dad. My kids aren’t vegan, and it’s something I haven’t foisted upon them. There are a couple reasons for that. One is that their mom isn’t vegan (though she is increasingly vegetarian), and  we try and keep our parenting consistent across households. Another is that I’ve come to veganism fairly late in life, and think it’d be a dick move to switch the rules on my kids in the middle of the game.

So, I don’t push it. I share my beliefs with my kids (only when they ask), but don’t guilt them out for eating meat. When my kids come over to my house, I try and cook them some tasty vegetarian meals. I do serve them meat as well, though I’m trying to do that less. My only line in the sand is that I won’t prepare anything that requires me to handle meat directly. It’s a somewhat arbitrary line, but it’s mine, and I’ve drawn it in pretty pink chalk.

On the other hand, I have no problem with parents of younger children (or socially conscious teens) who believe in raising them veg or vegan. In fact, I respect and admire these parents’ decision to raise their kids in an awareness of how our actions impact the other living creatures with whom we share our planet.

So I had a minor conniption when people went apeshit last week over Ruby Roth’s new children’s book, Vegan is Love, in which Roth explains the vegan lifestyle to kids. Roth found just the right combination of issues to make the Internet go nucking futs. People already get testy whenever you bring up vegetarianism and veganism. They assume (sometimes correctly, but often not) that you’re comparing them to Hitler because you think chicken’s tasty. Add children into the mix, and…hoo boy. A perfect shitstorm. It’s like saying that not only do you think they’re Hitler, but you have proof they pulled guard duty at Auschwitz.

The woman who’s been most often cited in this controversy on the meat-lover’s side is Nina Planck, a former vegan who’s been on an anti-vegan jihad since the 2000s. Despite the fact that she’s neither a nutritionist nor a medical professional, multiple outlets have quoted Planck’s opinions about the supposed dietary deficiencies of eating vegan. The New York Times even gave Planck a forum to rail against vegan eating for kids, a choice which she claims carries “definite and scary” risks.

I haven’t talked much about veganism on this site. It’s not because I’m not passionate about sparing animals form slaughter, or timid about my beliefs. It’s more that I’ve been fumbling for a way to advocate for greater compassion and less cruelty towards other living creatures without coming off as a moralizing asshat. My own journey to veganism has been long, slow, and riddled with lapses. I’m the last person to judge anyone for eating meat. I’ve eaten it for most of my 38 years on the planet! And, seriously – who enjoys being lectured about their nutritional choices?

But the tsunami of misinformation and moralizing that’s hammered Roth is too much for me to keep quiet. I’ve found four consistent trends to people’s reactions. All of them are either overwrought or, more often than not, simply bullshit.

(And I say “bullshit” with deep metta and compassion. No, really. Stop giggling, please.)

1. “Vegan diets are unhealthful and lacking in nutrients, and they make the baby Jesus weep softly!”

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. You’d have thought this one would be put to bed by now. As the Daily Mail points out in their roundup of the controversy, the American Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics (a.k.a. the America Dietetic Association), based upon scads of research, has endorsed the healthful nature of vegan diets for the majority of people walking the planet.

It is the position of the American Dietetic Association that appropriately planned vegetarian diets, including total vegetarian or vegan diets, are healthful, nutritionally adequate, and may provide health benefits in the prevention and treatment of certain diseases. Well-planned vegetarian diets are appropriate for individuals during all stages of the life cycle, including pregnancy, lactation, infancy, childhood, and adolescence, and for athletes.

Yep, you heard that right: athletes. If even triathletes and bodybuilders can thrive on a vegan diet, something tells me kids will do just fine.

In her piece in the New York Times, Planck contended that vegans lack “complete” versions of many crucial vitamins and minerals. Bullshit, says vegetarian dietitian Virginia Messina:

So, where does Planck get it wrong? “[Planck] insists that certain nutrients like vitamins A and D,omega-3 fats and carnitine are available only from animal foods,” says Messina, “That’s not true for any of these nutrients. We humans easily convert beta-carotene in plant foods to vitamin A. As little as one-quarter cup of carrot juice or a half-cup of sweet potatoes provides a day’s worth of this nutrient. Meat eaters have no advantage regarding vitamin D either. Because there is so little naturally occurring vitamin D in foods, nearly all Americans — vegans and omnivores alike — get it from supplements, fortified foods or sun exposure.”

(FWIW, Messina is more cultured than I, and doesn’t actually say “bullshit”. But I’d like to believe she at least muttered it under her breath.)

A whole foods, plant-based vegetarian or vegan diet is loaded with nutrients, minerals, antioxidants, and phytochemicals. The only “complete” nutrient vegetarians and vegans might lack in their diets is B12. Even this is controversial; even most vegans who don’t supplement B12 don’t seem to suffer from this so-called “deficiency”. If you do need B12, it’s easy enough to get. Most soy milks, such as Silk, are loaded with it.

2. “I ate vegan for three months and I almost DIED!!”

Ah, yes. Eating by Anecdote. A number of people – Ms. Planck among them – claim that they felt horrid when they dropped meat from their diets.

And you know what? I believe them. I’m very sympathetic to this point. What we currently know about nutrition is dwarfed by what we don’t know. If you try a vegetarian and vegan diet and feel like shit warmed over in the dry desert, you have a few options, all of which I consider credible:

(1) Talk to your doctor, who might help you pinpoint the problem. Lack of nutrients? Not enough calories?

(2) Talk to a registered dietitian, particularly one who specializes in vegetarian or vegan diets.

(3) Go back to eating meat until you can accomplish either (1) or (2).

Individual variances aside, doctors and dietitians who make recommendations to the population at large should base their advice on scientifically sound research conducted on large sample populations. And to date, the research is clear: vegetarian and vegan diets are not only healthy, but often more healthy than animal-centric diets. Most people do not need to eat Bessie and Bambi to feel good and maintain a healthy weight.

3. “Growing kids need dead animals!”

Both the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics and the American Association of Pediatrics disagree with you.

The Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics and American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) agree: Well-planned vegetarian and vegan eating patterns are healthy for infants and toddlers.

Time and attention are necessary to make certain young children, vegetarian or not, get all the nutrients they need for normal growth and development.

Science RULES!

4. “Let your kid choose her OWN diet, you selfish prick!”

This was yet another lovely broadside from Nina Planck, who was quoted at length in this LA Times story:

You may choose to be a vegan. Your baby doesn’t have that luxury. Let her grow up omnivorous and healthy. Then watch her exercise her own freedom of choice with justifiable pride.

“Omnivorous and healthy” is, as we have seen, horseshit. And this statement is disingenuous anyhow, given then Planck doesn’t even think veganism is healthy for adults.

But Planck is also intimating that vegans are “forcing” their choices on their kids. But you’re forcing a choice on your kids either way! That’s what parenting is. As a parent, you do what you feel is both healthful and morally right for your children. And vegan parents believe – with some evidence – that the best thing they can do for both their children and for life on planet Earth is to raise them to avoid dining on animals.

I’m not saying you’re going to burn in hell if you feed your kids meat, folks. What I am saying is that Planck’s omnivore lifestyle shouldn’t be some sort of moral default. Vegan parents shouldn’t be stigmatized as bad parents for raising their kids in the vegan lifestyle. That Planck and others are doing their level best to foster that stigma is…

Well, you get my gist.

Was that not enough boring data for you? Not to worry – I have more! Check out The China Study, a landmark book whose reams of data document how a plant-based, animal-free diet can combat and even reverse many modern American ailments, including heart disease and diabetes. (The China Study is the basis for the dry yet highly educating film Forks Over Knives.) For even more statistics from a vegan-centric perspective, check out Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine.

A handy list of things that make you feel like you’re truly moved in:

Almost Burning Your Place Down

One of the things I love about being in my own place again is having my own kitchen. I cook most of my meals, so having a great stove is as vital to my existence as oxygen and porn. Keeping my stove top clean is like a second religion; outside of a new Rob Schneider movie, there’s nothing I find more disgusting than a dirty range.

You know what’s not a good idea, though? Stove multitasking. As in, cleaning your stove while you still have a burner on. As in, cleaning your stove with a paper towel while you have a burner on.

Turns out that water isn’t the only thing Bounty absorbs – IT ABSORBS FIRE, TOO. About half of the towel had burned away before my tired brain was like, “Hey, dude…there’s flame creeping towards your hand. Might wanna do something about that.”

Fortunately, no alarms were triggered, and no fire trucks were called. I put out the flame, lit a scented candle to cover the reek, and celebrated the near-miss with a good book and an appropriate Bonnie Raitt cover.

Then I fell asleep and had a dream in which the Chinese Embassy in Seattle burned down to the ground. Hey, I was rattled.

Having a Kick-Ass Spice Cabinet

At the end of my last relationship, I left without one of the things most dear to my heart: my spice rack. Like cleaning supplies, spices are one of those hidden expenses you don’t consider when you have to re-establish yourself. Then you go to cook, realize that all you have in the way of seasonings is a three-year-old box of Kosher salt, and head out to the store to drop $100 on everything from allspice to turmeric.

After two weeks, I can finally saw I’m almost Spice-Complete. Allspice. Cinnamon sticks. Curry powder. Enough cumin to cook a fiesta for our troops in Afghanistan. Hell, I even have garam masala and habanero garlic pepper.

Do you have habanero garlic pepper? Yeah. That’s what I thought. (But never fear: if you’re in Seattle, World Spice Market can hook you up.)

Being Occupied by Your Kids

My kids had been over before last week one by one, but Wednesday was the first time I’d had them all here together since moving in. What amazed me was how quickly they made this feel like The New Normal. There was no fuss or wonder; they simply familiarized themselves with where all the snacks were and settled in for the next four days.

“I really like your place, dad,” Luka told me midway through the week.

I kissed him on the top of his head and ruffled his blonde mop-top. “Me too, bud. And I really like my place with you in it.”

The little sneak then proceeded throughout the rest of the day to wipe out our stock of Capri Sun when I wasn’t looking.

There’s no place like home.

While biking to the store tonight, I saw what had to be the saddest thing I’ve beheld all week: A “Lost Bird” sign. It was for a parrot that had somehow flown its cage, found a door or window (whose openness is no doubt now a matter of intense family debate, not to mention future grist for a potential divorce proceeding), and soared off into the wild blue yonder with a song on its lips and spring beneath its wings.

(PARENTS: If anyone who’s too young to see The Hunger Games is reading this over your shoulder, send them away to watch iCarly or some such nonsense.)

(Gone? Good.)

Okay, moms and dads – let’s get real: that fucking bird ain’t coming home. A stranger isn’t going to look to her right one day, see a parakeet perched on her shoulder, and grab it and throw it in her car so Tweety and Tweety’s owner can tearfully reunite. That bird is halfway to Miami by now.

But then, being a dad, I wondered: who instigated this postering mission? I smell the work of a youngling anywhere between the ages of 6 and 14, to whom that bird meant the world. A developing mind for whom logic and reason hold little sway in the presence of grief. What passes for logic in this big-feeling brain is a leaky syllogism patched together with Magical Thinking: (1) My pet bird is missing; (2) People put out Lost posters for pets; ergo, (3) I must demand that mom and dad plaster the town with Lost Bird posters.

And you know what? If it had been my kid who’d lost his favorite bird, I’d have been out on the streets with a carpenter’s stapler and a stack of fliers faster than you can say “Polly want a cracker”.

Adults think. Children hope. It’s part of what makes the little buggers so irresistible.