August 4, 2003

• Sacred Snacking

  
  

  Every family eventually develops its own unique culture and identity.  We drift into traditions and habits that become our defining characteristics.  We find our sacred ground.  In my family, the pinnacle of sacredness, is our snack food.  I came to a realization over the weekend.  THEY can have their snackfoods in the regular pantry.  In fact they already do have a shelf that is entirely dedicated to "boys snack foods."  Mom's food on the other hand is going to have to go into a box with a padlock. 

  
  

  I didn't want it to come to this, but I have no choice.  See I've been doing this "eat healthy, watch your portion size" thing.  Which means in practical terms that MY snacks last longer than the 24 hours after we do our grocery shopping.  In fact, I've been known to make a box of chocolates last three weeks.  But, now that my boys are tall enough to reach the shelves (and now that my husband KNOWS that they are tall enough to reach the shelves - come on, he doesn't really expect me to believe that he isn't at least a co-conspirator in the larceny ...) my snacks are disappearing at an alarming rate.  Something slightly LESS than 24 hours after the last trip to the grocery, Momi had nothing left. 

  
  

  The Schwan's man stops by my house every fourteen days.  The last time he was here, I bought banana popsicles for Tucker, Michael's favorite - Chocolate Fudge Brownie Chunk ice cream, Tim's favorite - Mixed Berry Frozen Yogurt, and my favorite - Rocky Road.  This is barely a week ago.  On Saturday, I opened the Freezer for my first scoop of Rocky Road and found - an empty space.  So I went looking.  I looked behind the frozen vegetables and under the lean cuisine.  I looked past the roast on the third shelf.  Finally, my husband stuck his head around the corner - "what are you doing?"

  
  

  "I'm looking for my Rocky Road, I know I bought a carton ..."

  
  

  "Oh," he says with this really sheepish look, "I, ahem, saw that empty carton in the trash."

  
  

  I caught one of the perpetrators on film with my Reduced Fat Cheese Nips ...

  
  

  

  
  

  But it doesn't really stop at my Cheese Nips, ice cream and chocolates, which offense is quite bad enough.  No, they've noticed that I eat everything more slowly than they do.  And they've started saying things like, "Momi, why don't we "help" you out with that."  The last time I took them to lunch at Fazzoli's they "helped me out" of my bread stick and half my sandwich, then they "helped" me out of the extra breadstick that the nice woman with the basket brought to the table while I was at the drink machine getting refills. 

  
  

  I've heard rumors about the appetites of male children as they approach their teens.  I'll admit that Michael is getting almost close enough to start thinking about that magical day, but he's only 9.  And really, at 6 1/2 Tucker can't blame his snitching behavior on teen growth spurts.  So I'm forced to conclude that they are simply addicted to snack food.  Their addiction has numbed them to all the moral considerations inherent in stealing from their own sainted MOTHER.  And for their own good, and protection of my sacred snacking, I must take drastic measures.   We Verrette's are snacking people.  If I accidentally get out of the snack habit through long term deprivation of the opportunity, I may find myself on the outside looking in to my own family's culture. 

  
  

           

  
  

  I'm going to the doctor this morning for a follow-up lab and to be yelled at for not coming in to be seen sooner.  I'll let you know later how that goes. 

  • 7:41 am
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