OK, every parent knows that sugar makes kids go wild, no matter what the American Pediatric Association (or whoever makes decisions for the medical masses) says. A direct dose of sugar enters the system and turns perfectly innocent little children into demons on the spot. French fries don’t have the same effect, even if potato and grease is turned into sugars by our digestive system.
So theoretically, parents would never allow their children processed sugars except when legally unavoidable, like at birthday parties or wedding receptions. The problem is that we are little children grown up, sort of, and like our processed sugars as much as the next kid. And therefore invent reasons to indulge the kids and ourselves.
In our family, we get pretty creative about it. When I introduced the reality of menstruation to our daughter, I made sure to mention not only the cramps, accidents, sanity pads and tampons, but also the desire for a whole package of chocolate-coated graham crackers or a plate of brownies that occurs monthly. And her right as a fertile female to devour them. My wife doesn’t even have a uterus anymore, but she still uses that rationale. I’m thinking I can get away with using menopause as an excuse for dark chocolate when that time comes, what with the hormones and anti-oxidants and all.
And I may also be such a bitch that no one will dare question my right to chocolate.
With kids, if you’re wise about it, you can stretch out the sugar by interspersing it with nutritional items like scrambled eggs, glasses of milk and broccoli—though I don’t recommend the last because chocolate and broccoli don’t mix. As parents, we know we can get away with pretty much anything we want to, as long as the children don’t catch us at it.
For instance my Hostess Product obsession. It happened while watching Magic Schoolbus with the youngest; suddenly Arnold was eating a mallow-blaster and my mind went to Moon Pies, Wagon Wheels and Suzi Qs. And then I was at my laptop, googling Hostess products and discovering the whole history of the Twinkie and the array of somewhat indestructible goodies they still offer.
I bought a box of Twinkies the next day.
The good thing about getting busted by the kids is that you can spread the calories among a crowd, therefore saving yourself from a one-hundred and fifty calorie per Twinkie sugar and lard fest. Dividing every dessert by five really keeps the servings reasonable for everyone. Though sometimes you don’t want to be reasonable, you want to overindulge. This is where trips to the store after bedtime come in handy.
Though it is always disappointing when they don’t have exactly what you want on the shelves and you’re left speculating at the last minute on what will make your day complete, when all you’ve been able to think about since putting the kids to bed is a Ding Dong.
And umm, not in the naughty sense.
Blogger Bio: Beren deMotier is a Carol Brady in Levis/tattooed lesbian mama in a mini-van, obsessed with safety, doing the right thing and the amount of dog hair on her wood floors. She is a regular contributor to both Curve and Black Lamb, and has written for Hip Mama, And Baby, Pride Parenting, ehow.com, and for her blog, “That Lesbian Mom Next Door.” Her multi-award-winning book, The Brides of March: Memoir of a Same-Sex Marriage, recounts her giddy leap through a legal window, straight onto the barbeque pit of public debate when she and her partner married in Oregon in 2004, their three children along for the raucous ride. (berendemotier.com)