Why do I care?

Someone asked me not that long ago why I care so much. About health. About parenting. Etc., etc.

To be honest, sometimes I wonder the same thing.

It’s all with good intentions, for sure. But they say the road to hell was paved with good intentions, so what do I know?

To be frank, I care deeply about my weight. I’ll blame that on my momma. She was always doing the latest fad diet and yo-yoing her weight. She always cared deeply about her weight and what others thought. I guess the magic thing for me is I don’t give a flying fuck about what others think of my weight,or me in general for that matter. Only me and what I think. And I want to be the healthiest possible.

And that means eating the healthiest foods I know of. I don’t want to die when I’m 40 of heart disease. Or get diagnosed with diabetes. And you don’t have to be obese for those. Just, for females anyway, packing on the extra weight around your midsection.

So yeah, that scares me. I want to be around to see my grandkids some day. Maybe even my great-grandkids.

I don’t want my children diagnosed with cancer, ADD or some other behavioral disorder that is linked directly to the food they eat. I mean, I’d feel like the worlds shittiest parent knowing that my kids was sick because of something I directly fed them. Trust me, seeing as one babe is sick due to the toys I directly gave him to play with, I don’t think I could handle more/worse.

Sure, you can’t prevent everything. You can be the healthiest person in the world and get hit by a bus at 25. You can never smoke a cigarette in your life and still end up with lung cancer. You can never eat a single gram of sugar and still end up with diabetes.

I get it. I really, truly do. But I’d like to lessen the odds of myself and my children being unhealthy. I’d like to increase the odds of my living a long, healthy, happy life.

Maybe that’s crazy. I’m sure some would think so.

Don’t get me wrong. I have a break about once every 6 months or so where I just say “Fuck it!” and I buy disgustingly delicious things like frozen taquitos and cream puffs and spaghettios (with meat balls!) and I eat my heart out.

Then I cry and feel like a fatso and pretty much convince myself I’m going to die now before my children are grown and how in the world am I going to explain to my babes that Mommy didn’t love them enough to be healthy for them?

Yes, that’s how my mind works. Maybe it is borderline insane. But it is what it is.  

And parenting for me is mostly along those same lines. Though fairly more rational.

I deeply believe our children can change the world if parented with love and kindness. All the generations before them have not been, and look at the world we live in. It speaks volumes for itself.

But then step back and look at the pockets of the world, countries like Sweden for instance, that all ready figured this love and patience thing out decades ago. They have strong economies. Extremely low crime-rates. High graduation rates. Fewer children diagnosed with behavioral disorders. Fewer adults (and children) diagnosed with depression and anxiety. Divorce rate is lower. People there are more open and accepting of differences, and overall more people report being happy.

So yes, I think the way you treat your child can change the world.

Maybe it seems crazy. I don’t know. I guess I understand the questioning of why I care. I question it, too, sometimes.

I can only give my children the knowledge and tools to eat healthily now. There will come a time they get to make those decisions for themselves. Maybe they will choose to eat donuts and cupcakes all day long. But at least I will know that I gave it an honest effort.

Maybe they will grow up depressed, end up with cancer, or beat their own children. Again, at least I did my best, right?

Though it’s good to question everything, even why I care, I can’t help but question, why do so many people not care? That’s the bigger question.