For the Love of Food

During a serious parenting conversation with one of my favorite Roaring Moms, she divulged a problem with one of her children frequently stealing food from her siblings and hiding it. Stuff like treats from school parties or special snacks would disappear. Then they would find the wrapper in the culprit’s room. My heart went out to her as she was truly disturbed by what had become a real point of contention in her family. I racked my brain for the right thing to say, but my mind was stuck on one thing: the contraband two liter bottle of Dr. Pepper I was currently hiding in the trunk of my car!

When she asked how long I thought her daughter would have this problem, I came clean. Yes. I’m forty-something and fabulous and I hide soda in my car, smuggle it into my home, and hide it from my kids. All the time.

I have food issues, and I have successfully passed them on to my kids.

Back when I was a married Roaring Mom, it wasn’t uncommon for us to sit down to dinner and have at least one kid ask for soda. I would explain we didn’t have any soda. Water was better for them anyway. Then one would lean forward and whisper, “Go get it from dad’s secret stash.” Then another would take me by the hand to their dad’s closet and point to the top shelf.

It’s also not uncommon to find sticky notes in the fridge threatening death or worse to anyone who touches the last helping of banana pudding. My kids are not above the Lick Method, either. “I licked that cookie. It’s mine!” As for school party treats? Anything not eaten within 24 hours of said party is fair game. Halloween candy? Well, you better sleep with your bag under your pillow if want to have anything other than popcorn balls left in the morning.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to teach will power by frequently reading Arnold Lobel’s Frog and Toad Story “Cookies.” They try everything to not eat all the cookies. Finally, they give the cookies to the birds. They have no more cookies, but lots and lots of willpower. So, Toad goes home to bake a cake.

After all, what’s willpower without cake?  (Click here to check out the story for yourself.)

All I can do is try to set a better example, right? So when I bake the weekly cake because I’m an emotional baker and I still get depressed when the kids go to their dad’s, but there’s no one there to eat it but me, I work up my willpower! I don’t eat a single piece. I do take a nibble, just to taste, but I don’t actually serve a single slice. A day later when I notice it’s half gone (even though I never actually served a slice), I realize I’ve got a problem. I can’t let them come home and see I’ve eaten half a cake myself, so I do the right thing. I make the sacrifice. Then I have no more cake, but lots and lots of willpower.

Just so we’re clear…I didn’t feed it to the birds.

It’s sad, but the best advice I can give my Roaring Mom friend is a wish for willpower. In the meantime, go buy a case of sticky notes.

When Abe Lincoln meets Jack Daniels

"We don't find vulgarity funny."
I should have known that's what my mother would say when I offered to share a Comedy Central video clip that I had to preface by asking her not to be offended. I should have possibly rethought my decision to show (with my children watching, in fact reciting the clip word for word) a video entitled Drunk History. But, come on, what's not funny about drunk people explaining historical events?

Click here to see for yourself.

And my mom's response? "Well, that's an interesting type of humor to teach your children. Now they know what drunk people sound like."

At moments like that, I wonder how can I truly be a product of this family?

Can I help it if I appreciate the strategic use of a handheld fart machine? Is it my fault that I believe an F-bomb dropped for effect can be, well, effective? Is it so bad that my daughter was in only the 4th grade when she was teaching Cheech and Chong's "Sister Mary Elephant" to her fellow students on the Catholic School playground? Is it so wrong that How I Met Your Mother is considered family entertainment at my house? Ok, it probably is wrong. In fact, when my oldest two were the age my youngest two are now, I wouldn't have permitted it. I remember my very first viewing of Family Guy with my oldest. I hated it. I thought it was unnecessarily, stupidly vulgar. I was disgusted with  the movie, Anchor Man  the first time I saw it, but just this week actually paid for all of us to see the sequel. In truth, I was pretty disgusted with that too, and I will never get those 2 and a half hours back or the IQ points I lost watching it. However, it was 2 and a half hours spent with my children belly laughing and that is priceless.

It seems the older I get, the less my appropriateness filter works. That fact was proven over Christmas when my kids and I were playing the Awkward Family Photos card game. The picture was of an unattractive man in a disturbingly tight Speedo, standing in a flower garden and holding a bouquet. The question asked for a title, and before I could stop myself, I responded, "Scratch and Sniff." In front of my children. And their friends. I'm not sure if the teens laughed more at my own embarrassment or theirs. But, hey, at least I was adequately embarrassed by my lack of filter. I'm sure my mother would not have laughed at all. In fact, she might have disowned me or at least put my name before her prayer group...again.

Now, before you all judge me too harshly, let me just say that  we really dig the high brow stuff, too. We can chuckle inwardly at sophisticated wit. We really can. In fact, unless you understand the intellectual irony of Abe Lincoln dropping the f-bomb, you really can't fully enjoy the humor of Drunk History, right?

I wonder at what age we can stop worrying about offending our parents with our language or off-colored jokes, or appreciation of vulgar humor. I also wonder where I got the idea of weighing the funny against the inappropriate, and if the funny factor weighs heavier, well... I sure didn't get it from Mom and Dad.

Seriously though, how am I a product of my parents?

Come to think of it, I wonder what our neighborhood milk man's sense of humor was like back in the fall of '68? Dad was out of town a lot.

Ooops, sorry. That wasn't funny. Was it, Mom?