What's the difference between a 12" pizza and an artist?
... The pizza can feed a family.

Monday, May 10, 2010

My Sweet Escape



Anyone who knows Chris knows that he is a very passionate person. He’s a thinker, a philosopher, and a seeker of knowledge. He loves studying new ideas, theories, and philosophies. I am definitely not his intellectual equal nor would I ever pretend to be. His last blog post is a good example of the type of thing he ponders on a regular basis. In fact, he wrote that post one night when he couldn’t sleep. He was anxious to have me read it, hoping to have a thoughtful discussion on the topic and all I could say was, “this is what you think about when you can’t sleep?!” I’m just waiting for the day that he leaves me for someone smarter and deeper.


And while I love and admire this characteristic about him, I have to admit that it can sometimes be a little annoying -- like when he gets really excited (passionate) about a new idea or principle and immediately applies it to his own life (i.e.: becoming a vegetarian after reading The China Study). Which I suppose isn’t a bad thing, after all, what’s the point of acquiring new knowledge if you’re unwilling to apply it to your own life? But for the innocent bystander wife, happily plugging along in blissful ignorance, it can be a little exhausting. I’m usually very supportive, but his newest –I don’t even know what to call it –Stance? Platform? Cause? hits a little too close to home for comfort. Chris is trying to ban refined sugar from our lives.


It started about a week ago when Chris found an article on line. (I don’t know where because I refused to read it.) I guess it was pretty scientific and had a lot of information about the evils of refined sugar comparing it to a poison or a drug like crack cocaine and stuff like that. He found the article very alarming and eye opening and was disappointed when I wouldn’t get on board. But I told him, “Look, I don’t smoke, drink, do drugs, or gamble. I’m not addicted to sex or shopping. But I like sugar. It’s my only vice. I know it’s bad for me, but of all the evils out there is sugar really that bad? So what? I give up sugar and I live a few years longer? Well what’s the point of living if I can’t enjoy life? and I truthfully am not convinced that my life would be enjoyable without it. So I’m not going to read your stupid article because it’s not going to change my mind!!


I know what you’re thinking, “spoken like a true addict.”


Well since Chris wasn’t getting anywhere with me he decided to move on to a more malleable audience. I didn’t realize to what extent he had recruited our children to his anti-sugar campaign until the following day when I went to the bank. I requested suckers for the kids but instead of opening his and devouring it quickly like he usually does, Topher stared at it suspiciously. He then looked at me and asked with an accusatory tone, “Mommy, why are you giving me this? Daddy says that sugar is poison.”

Great Chris, now you have our children thinking their mother is trying to poison them. That definitely won’t do anything to mess up their little psyches.


A few days later I called him on his way home from work to ask him if he’d stop and get me a little somethin’ somethin’. It was late and the kids were in bed. I was trying to enjoy the new episode of Modern Family but without a sweet treat it just wasn’t the same. He refused, letting me know in no uncertain terms that he would not support my habit. I begged and pleaded, I even played the pregnancy card to no avail. He stuck to his guns. Later when he got home he tried to soften the blow of his new self imposed lifestyle change by explaining, “You asking me to bring you home a treat is the same as asking a recovering heroin addict to bring home some heroin. I can’t get it for you and not eat it myself. And it’s not fair for you to ask.”


Fine, I realized I could no longer count on Chris to be my supplier. So the next day I made a batch of cookies. I gave away half the batch to neighbors and put the remaining dozen in a zip lock bag and hid my stash in the freezer. I didn’t have to eat them right away; it was comforting enough just knowing they were there for those times that I really need a fix.


Well, dear readers, that time came today. I was having a particularly stressful day. Things kept going wrong and my patience was running thin. In a moment of peace and quiet with Topher at preschool and Max having quiet time I thought how nice it would be to sit down at the computer with a sweet treat. Ah, yes, that would be just what the doctor ordered. After a few minutes of rummaging unsuccessfully through the pantry and cupboards I remembered my stash in the freezer. Grateful for my previous foresight and wisdom I ran to the freezer only to find that my stash was GONE!


There could be only one culprit, Mr. Anti-Sugar Buns himself. I called him at work and sure enough, he confessed to the whole thing. Now being an addict myself I can’t get too mad at him and his apparent hypocrisy. In fact, I was almost moved by the obvious shame I heard in his voice when he came clean to eating the entire bag. So while I was upset that my cookies were gone, I’m smart enough to see how this will help me out in the long run. It’s something I can hold over his head the next time he refuses my pleadings to bring me home a sweet treat. And no, that type of manipulation is not below me.