that’s life Family fusses over food
By Tammy Keith
LITTLE ROCK — We’re like wild animals in our house when it comes to food.
It’s not that we eat off the floor or anything (it’s not clean enough for that), but we’re territorial and protective.
My older son used to go buy doughnuts or humongous muffins for his breakfast and put a sticky note on top, warning: “John’s - Do Not Eat.”
We are always “calling” the food in the refrigerator.
“That last Diet Pepsi is mine.”
“I’m saving that pudding for after supper.”
“Don’t eat that leftover pizza - it’s my lunch tomorrow.”
My older son and I got in some tiffs about the bottled water he put in the refrigerator when he was working construction last summer. Sometimes I took a couple to work.
My point was, would it have killed him to put a few extra in there for me, the woman who gave him life? Apparently so.
Sometimes he’d write his name on the bottles. Sometimes I’d take them anyway.
With two teenage boys, food has never lasted long in this house.
My husband occasionally makes a chocolate cake, and it’s like watching hyenas in the Serengeti when it comes out of the oven.
It lasts less than a day, and I’m lucky to get one piece. Without losing a finger.
I remember my granny, my dad’s mother, made the best coconut pies in the world when I was growing up. I’d be sure and get my pie at the same time I got dinner, for fear it would be gone.
After we cleaned up and collapsed in the living room, therefrigerator was watched warily for a sign of someone going for the leftovers. I was incensed when one of the cousins - who lived in the same city as Granny and could have her heavenly cooking any time - ate the last piece of pie.
At my dad’s house, it is wellknown that the peach cobbler is my older son’s; the pound cake is my younger son’s; and I’m going after anything chocolate.
Here at home, we often hide our food like dogs burying bones.
My younger son has taken a liking to my Weight Watcher desserts, which I must admit are yummy. But instead of one a day, he would eat three our four until I put a moratorium on eating more than one. I try to strategically hide the last of my favorites behind the frozen green beans.
I hid the little Weight Watcher snack cakes so well that I kept forgetting about them and let them get stale.
At Easter and Christmas, each person gets his own plastic bag to put his candy in (yes, we all still get baskets and stockings). What’s irritating is that my sons and I go through the candy in a matter of hours or a couple of days, and my husband’s stash lasts for a ridiculous amount of time.
If there’s a Reese’s Christmas tree still in his bag by Valentine’s Day (top drawer, dresser), it’smine.
Which reminds me, my favorite holiday is coming up - Halloween.
My husband always buys candy for trick-or-treaters early and hides it. I think I’ve figured out where. And when nobody’s looking, I’ll sniff it out.
This article was published Sunday, October 5, 2008.
Three Rivers, Pages 109, 110 on 10/05/2008
