Chocolate Bandit

He couldn’t be guiltier if he had been holding a smoking gun.

He was standing there wearing his boxers and a lopsided grin. And, he was holding the empty box of Dreyer’s chocolate peanut butter ice cream

“You wanted some?” He asked, attempting to display belated concern.

The gall. The indecency. The lack of civility.

“Scoundrel!” I muttered under my breath, turning on a swift heel.

Now, let’s hope he doesn’t discover the missing Hershey’s chocolate bar that was hidden in his top desk drawer.

Because, that would make me a hypocrite.

Or something. No?

A big thank you to Babymakin' Machine for the lovely shout out! If you haven't been over to visit her yet, what are you waiting for? Jen is so bright, funny and charismatic.....

Anybody Want A Cracker?

I’ve noticed lately that my freedom is tethered to my two daughters’ appetites.

And, boy, is it a short leash.

Just when I think I’ve found a stolen moment to unwind with a book…

“Moooooommy! I am huuuungry!”

My mornings are always started with a frantic tug at the leash.

“More Cheerios, Mommy??!!”

And, when I’ve tamed the morning growls, the late morning growls come creeping in.

“More crack-ahs??”

I’m not even safe in the car.

“Snack, Mamma?”

Heaven help ya if you take them on an errand without proper ammunition. As any wise mom knows, you simply must keep snacks in your purse….and glove compartment…and pockets….Heck, around your neck even.

It’s akin to always having a gaggle of geese gathered around you 24/7.

“Honk! Honk!”

“Stop your fussing Gertrude, Daisy and Clementine. You know there’s always bread crumbs at the bottom. Hang on there.”

I find it most unnerving when it occurs as one is unwinding at the end of the day….as it always does.

“Snack? I hungry!”

“Can ya gimme a minute, Gertrude?”

Really. There’s just no escaping.

HONK. HONK

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I couldn't believe my luck this morning. I won Scary Mommy's Favorite Things Giveaway. This lady always has the best giveaways. There were over 700 entries! What luck! I am so thrilled! Thank you, Jill! Be sure to pay her a visit. Ya don't want to miss her next giveaway.

Ice Cream Bully

Ice cream is serious business around our house.

We’re regulars at the local ice cream parlor. We pay frequent late night visits to the ol’ ice cream aisle. And the guy at the drive thru knows our standing order. “Sundaes all around?”

We’re a regular ice cream fan club. And, I am the President.

Chocolate peanut butter. Rocky Road. Chunky Monkey.

You name it. I am an adoring fan.

Then, suddenly, my Vice President jumped ship. Claimed he was getting thick in the middle. Had to tighten his belt…so to speak…on his calorie intake. Apparently, our indulgences were slowing down his athletic performance, contributing to his middle aged spread and hanging around the ol’ caboose for a spell.

I was shocked. I felt abandoned. My bubble had burst.

I mean, what a wet blankie.

Aside from the ice cream thing, we’re pretty healthy folks. Organic meats. Lots of veggies. 8 glasses of water a day. Plenty of exercise. Vitamins.

So, I held firm with my ice cream obsession.

In fact, I became an ice cream bully.

“Want a bite?”

At first, he was steadfast in his convictions. Then, he wavered a bit. Only to steady and right himself once again.

I continued with my pursuit.

“Yum. Gotta try this new flavor.”

I just wouldn’t let him up for air.

“Yum-yum…. You’re missing out.”

Finally a firm proclamation. “No! No! No ice cream for me.”

I know. I know. I should support his new healthy goals. More ice cream for me, right?

But, sometimes, a sinful indulgence is better when shared. Don’t you agree?

“Want a bite?”

Hang on, I think he’s wavering again.

Yep. The smoke's comin' from my blog....

Alright, gang! Secret’s out. I suffer from a mean case of kitchen phobia.

One little oopsie with an Easy Bake oven back in the 70’s and I’m wounded for life.

I didn’t fare much better when I flew the nest. Domino’s Pizza pretty much kept my head above water in the dorms.

In my twenties, I was a single, career-woman-on-the-go racking up bar…Ahem…I mean, restaurant tabs all over town.

And, then I fell in love with a man who cooked…very well. Glamorous as this life may sound…and it is rather cushie here on the couch listening to those pots and pans clang away…The fact remains, this has only added to my phobia. It’s classic kitchen co-dependence.

Sure. I can make a mean pb&j…and thank God for instant macaroni, but….do I need to go on?

There have been a few awkward moments at our dinner parties.

“So glad you could come. Hubby’s in the kitchen …..making…..something…..yeah, that’s it. Something.”

“More wine? Let me see if I can go find the refrigerator….”

“The flavor? Dunno. But, if you ask ol’ fancy pants in the apron, I’m sure he’d fill ya in.”

I’ve had countless reactions.

From an envious…

“How’d ya score that deal?”

To a slightly venomous…

“Whatcha mean you don’t do kitchens?”

To the occasional confessional…

“Yeah, my hubby, too! Shhh!”

However, recently, I feel a metamorphosis occurring. The stars are aligned.

My girls are curious about cooking. I stumbled upon some great cooking blogs. And, hubby has been travelling for business.

Makes for a spiffy combination.

Yep,ladies, things are finally cooking in the kitchen.

Psst… anyone out there know what a wok looks like?

Snacks Happen!

“Sometimes, snacks happen, Mamma!” My 3 year old piped.

How very true! Just the other day, I had a snacking moment in the produce aisle. They wouldn’t miss a couple of grapes, would they?

And, I had one at Monday’s playdate. (Oh, these are for the kids?)

I had several at Costco. …”It bakes in less than 10 minutes, ya don’t say? I think I’ll have another!”

Sometimes, I have a snacking moment while having a lunching moment.

“Want fries with that?”

“Sure.”

I have snacking moments at kid’s birthday parties. “Oh, she doesn’t like pink frosting? Let me help.”

My snacking moments are sometimes disguised as cleaning moments. “Oh, let me lick that off for you!”

Or going green moments. “Don’t wanna waste that one.”

Or spa moments. “Chocolate…Ahhh!”

Or bonding moments. “Of course, I’ll try one of your treats.”

Or Sex Nazi moments “Not now, cowboy. I got a chocolate chip muffin screaming my name.”

Or a sharing moment. “Ya gonna eat that?”

Like tiny sunbeams of delight in your day, snacking moments are little friends, keeping you warm and cozy and cheering you on. Word to the wise, ya gotta sneak ‘em in when ya can. (but you probably already knew that.)