I am an adult. As an adult, I have the ability to choose what I eat without asking for permission from my mommy first.
I like salt and vinegar chips. A lot. I feel that I have earned the right to eat salt and vinegar chips without having to crouch down and hide behind my kitchen counter chewing ever so softly so as not to alert any predators.
I don’t allow my kids to eat a whole lot of junk food. I’m not a prude (they are very familiar with McDonald’s), but I try to feed them a well balanced meal on a regular basis.
I’m not as strict with my own diet. I almost always skip breakfast, drink too much coffee, and can go a whole day on one slice of peanut butter toast. I realize that this is not healthy, so save the lecture. The process of feeding my children is not pleasant for me. Actually, it is quite painful if I’m being totally honest. “Use your manners! Don’t play with your food! Really? Stay in your bubble! We do NOT throw our food on the floor! That’s it! No more talking! IF I HAVE TO SAY IT ONE MORE TIME…(to which there is never any real consequence…).”
The fact is, I have no energy to eat after what they have just put me through. I’d rather be eternally hungry than have to make and clean up another meal for myself.
It’s come to the point several times that all I want to do after mealtime is curl up on my kitchen floor in the fetal position with a handful of greasy, really-f@#*ing-bad-for-you potato chips. (The exact same potato chips I told my children 10 minutes earlier that they couldn’t have because they’re simply just not a “good choice.”)
I’m not proud of myself.