Monday, July 20, 2009


My true intention when grocery shopping for my family is to purchase healthy and nutritious foods. I feel so proud when I make the right choices. Then I think to myself, I have to have SOMETHING in the house for the children. I mean it's not fair. Why should they suffer because I'm still perfecting my before shot, right?

Cut to, Tuesday 9:00PM. Let me set the stage. Dinner was finished hours ago. It was probably gross. I hate cooking and I suck at it. I’ve settled in to watch some lame "reality" show. I’m tired and bored. Maybe I "checked the electrical box." It's in these moments my kid's snacks are transformed from garden-variety treats into decadent morsels. Everything tastes different when you're desperate. Fruitabu no longer tastes like a fruited leather belt. Goldfish aren't dry or sandy. Frankly, the Ritz crackers I throw in my bag to quell tantrums are down right delicious. Interestingly, Ritz includes recipes on the back of the box in case you aren't sure how to jazz up your cracker. I know they have to fill space, but recipes, seriously? As I declared before, I'm a shit cook, but "Peanut Butter, Apple, Ritz" is pretty clear. So is, "Cheddar Apple Ritz." They even guilt you in the Peanut Butter recipe by throwing in a serving size. Hey Kraft Foods, don’t fucking tell me how much peanut butter to spread on my Ritz. If I want to submerge my cracker into the peanut butter jar and eat everything that comes up including my knuckles that's between me and my oppressive mother.

I really do try to avoid eating my kid’s snacks. I rarely get ice cream when they do. I mean I have to lick around the cone so they don’t get messy but that doesn’t really count.

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