"Mommy...can I have cheese balls for breakfast?"
It's been over a year since I posted in this blog, but believe me, it's not for lack of content. Sometimes I think if I could write anonymously and rreeeeaaallllly share everything I want to say I would have a Kardashian-like blog following. I'd also end up in jail. Moving right along...
We're in the final countdown for the school year and I'm not gonna lie. I am TIRED. The other day a friend of mine shared a blog post about being the "worst end of school year mom ever." I laughed so hard I cried. If you haven't read this one yet you need to...even if that means sneaking into the bathroom with your iPad like I did.
Yesterday was errand day. In an effort to be productive, I chose to actually work while the girls were in school. The business side of my brain reminded the mommy side of my brain it was smarter to use my time to make money rather than spend it. My girls are 5 and 8. They are are finally old enough to survive a trip to Target without temper tantrums and bathroom breaks. We had a few different places to go, and Target was our final stop.
Everything was going smoothly until we turned down the snack aisle. It's pool season now and just like every other kid in our neighborhood, my kids want to bring snacks to the pool. This seems like a perfectly rational request.
As a member of the FFKA (Former Fat Kids of America) I refuse to keep junk food in our house. My kids know Doritos are like crack for me. Cookies and ice cream are a definite no-no. Mommy just can't control herself. You know it's sad when one kid asks for Doritos and the other one reminds them, "Sissssssssyyyyyyyy...you KNOW we can't get those because Mommy will eat them ALL!"
You're right, kid. I will. So I don't buy them. Period.
I'm guessing my affection for Doritos stems from my childhood, when my mother (bless her heart) was the biggest hippie on the block, never allowing processed foods or sugar in our kitchen. I was the girl that begged kids to invite me to their birthday parties, just so I could get a dose of processed orange cheese mixed with delicious chemicals and tons of sugar. Can't find Holiday? Oh, she's over there in the corner with the bag of Doritos. All by herself.
Therapists would probably deem this an "issue with food" but I chalk it up to reality. My mom was just doing what she thought was best for me. And I've gotta give her credit. If she had allowed Doritos in our house I probably would have been a super fat kid instead of just a chubby kid. Thanks, Mom.
Sooooo...there we were, browsing the snack aisle, approaching the pretzels...when BOOM. I was faced with a gigantic tub of cheeze balls (note the "z"...this is especially important because we all know it isn't real cheese). For just $2.50 you could be the proud owner of 50,000 cheeze balls. What is it with kids and orange cheese? I don't know how it happened, but somehow this barrel of cheeze balls ended up in our cart. I'm going to claim temporary insanity. And sheer exhaustion.
Don't get me wrong, they didn't have to bully me to buy these. It's almost like all THREE of us felt like we were in a dream...me, because I was actually approving this purchase, and them, because they have never, ever, ever, seen mommy agree to such an insanely junky snack.
But I did. I just gave in.
What gets me is this...all year long I have feverishly sliced apples and doused them in lemon juice because I refused to buy pre-packaged apple slices. I buy nitrate and hormone-free lunch meat because I don't want them getting boobs in second grade. Sandwiches are made with whole grain, whole wheat bread. And there is no such thing as Kool-Aid in my house, only water and natural juice...although I have been known to buy the low sugar Capri Sun every now and then, which is always exciting for them.
Yes, I have consistently busted my ass to teach my children healthy eating habits (is this that moment where I realize I'm turning into my mother?), only to turn around and buy CHEEZE BALLS ? Really?!?!
The voices in my head won't stop...especially the one that says, "Holiday, these are little balls of POISON!"
And then I find myself having a little conversation with this voice...finally telling it to SHUT UP.
They're kids. And orange cheeZe isn't going to kill them. At least not this week.
