My kids stop by at least once a week to check on the old folks. We are blessed with the fact that we would rather be with the three of them and their significant other’s than just about anybody else in the world. We try to all get together for dinner once a month, with game night after. Laughter reigns and memories are made in those long easy evenings.
I try to make a good meal as I know they are all busy with work and the day to day things that take up so much of our time. Usually it’s lasagna. Something easy I can make up early so I’m not in the kitchen all evening. But the last time they were here I was asked that question that I’m sure many an over fifty mom has gotten. “Where are the cookies?”
Yeah, they want to know where those wonderful snacks are. The ones you kept on the counter so they could grab and go during the school years. Where are the bowls with the chocolaty baked goods, the salty bags of chips and pretzels, the gummy bears, worms or juicy fruit’s and the fridge full of soda? Now, the bowls have nutrition bars with flax seed and protein. The fridge has bottles of cranberry juice, orange juice and low fat milk. In fact almost everything in the fridge has low fat emblazoned on the side. The pantry is empty of any and all salty snacks, replaced with cans of tuna, low sodium, low fat soups and granola.
“The almonds, walnut and cashew nuts drizzled in 85 percent cocoa dark chocolate are in the Tupperware right there.”
He reaches in and takes a bite. Running to the garbage can he spits the remnants of the chocolate morsels into the can. He rushes to the sink, turns on the faucet on and lets the water run into his mouth.
“Oh my god, how can you eat that”
“It takes some getting used to.”
“You use to have good snacks,” he grumbles.
“But if they’re here I’ll eat them.”
“Just use your will power.”
I have to laugh. “Will power?” I ask, “What’s that?”
My husband has willpower. One day he said, “I don’t think I’ll eat salt anymore.” That was it; he no longer salts his food. Then he said, “I think I’ll stop drinking soda.” That’s right no more soda. Not even when we go out for pizza or burgers. That’s just not right. Oh and instead of soda he drinks water. I don’t think he realizes how guilty I feel when we’re out for pizza and the waiter brings me a sixty-four ounce soda as he sips his small glass of water.
You would think I would use the I’m over fifty excuse and eat what I want, but somewhere in the deep recess of my mind is the notion that I do need to take care of myself, because I’m just staring to have fun. Those kids we raised, the ones who frustrated and annoyed us, the ones we ran after and picked up after, the ones we prayed for and fretted about. They turned out great and shouldn’t we reap the benefits a little while longer.
Besides, the healthy foods, well they grow on you.