November 30, 2010
I'm doing a bit better today.
Not feeling quite so frazzled, frustrated, out of control.
Conditions haven't changed so much as I was able to get a full night's sleep.
Leaving me less psychotic and more in sync with the world around me.
For now.
Because something is always waiting around the corner.
Lurking.
Waiting.
Anticipating.
But today, I feel ready for it.
Tomorrow?
Who knows.
Even though my children aren't children, but closer to being young adults, aged 21, 19 and *almost* 17, there are things they do, or ask for that remind me that no matter how old they are, they are still children.
And more importantly, MY children.
Meredyth has been having a really hard time lately. Discombobulated, uncertain of her place in the world, what she is supposed to be doing, where she is supposed to be, how she is supposed to get there.
Because she is feeling this way, and she is coming over for dinner this evening, she called for the sole purpose of making a request for dinner.
A comfort food.
An-I-am-feeling-like-crap-and-the-whole-world-is-against-me-no-matter-how-hard-I-try-and-I-just-want-something-to-make-me-feel-better-food.
Now this is DEFINITELY a feeling I am intimately acquainted with.
And I mean intimately acquainted.
What food turns Mer's grey skies to blue? Puts the bow back into her rainbow? Turns her frown upside down?
Homemade macaroni and cheese.
A plate of hot, steaming macaroni and cheese where there is more melted cheese than macaroni, baked to perfection and served with salt, pepper and ketchup.
Meaning after we pick up Emily and before we pick up Meredyth, a trip to the grocery store is in order.
I had cheese.
Bought it last night as a matter of fact when we made our bi-weekly trip to the grocery store to stock up on provisions.
Leaving one to inquire about the status of the cheese that was just purchased last evening, and how come we have to go out for more cheese today, less than 24 hours later?
There is a very simple answer to that question.
Stephen.
Cheese for Stephen constitutes a food group all on its own.
Brie, camembert, swiss, havarti, gouda, blue, chedder (very old, old, medium, mild, marble) mozzarella, curds, wensleydale, provolone, parmesan, munster, colby, jack, ricotta, cottage, romano, gorgonzola, gjestost, asiago, babybel, beaufort, bocconcini, edam, gruyere, and on, and on, and on: http://www.cheese.com/all.asp.
Stephen says frequently, "cheese is my life."
It is not at all unusual for me to wake up in the middle of the night to the smells of toast and cheese wafting up the stairs into my bedroom.
More like the smell of burnt cheese hitting the broiler element, but this is perhaps not the time to be picky.
Between cheese and Goblet, there is barely time for me.
So now, instead of going home to prepare a Simply for Life sanctioned meal, I am going home to make a meal that wouldn't make the SFL menu under any conditions.
And me?
I'll be eating leftovers.
Or some of the homemade carrot curry soup I made over the weekend.
Both are fine.
Good even.
But not eating my homemade macaroni and cheese so hot out of the oven you can barely eat it will, perhaps be the biggest test I've faced so far.
Until tomorrow evening's bookclub meeting.
Christmas book club meeting at that.
All the delectable delicacies, tantalizing tasties, mouthwatering munchies. . .
While I sit in my chair sipping perrier with lime.
Where was I?
Oh yeah.
Comfort food.
All food gives me comfort.
Eating is the way for me to deal with the crushing defeat I experience in my every day life.
Chocolate is number one on my list.
I've never been all that impressed with potato chips, except for when Hostess introduced the Sour Cream and Bacon potato chip.
On more than one occasion, I would awaken in the middle of the night, thinking of those chips.
Given that we lived in a rural area, and the nearest convenience store was about 10 kilometers down the road, I would sit and stew in my salivating juices.
And when I was pregnant for Keith.
For reasons only understood by pregnant women who have experienced uncontrollable cravings, I wanted to eat my self into a Humpty Dumpty salt and vinegar coma.
If you have ever gorged on this potato-y delight, then you know that eating copious amounts of salt and vinegar chips can have some immediate repercussions.
Salt and vinegar flavouring would pool in the corners of my mouth causing minute cuts, which would only get worse the more chips I ate.
And I ate more, believe me.
My mouth would tingle and then go numb.
My fingers caked in salty goodness.
Now, looking at a salt and vinegar chip leaves me with that not so special feeling in my stomach.
White cheddar popcorn is another favourite, along with theater popcorn coated with ketchup seasoning.
Dairy Queen pumpkin pie blizzards.
Pancakes with syrup.
Chips and salsa.
PC Decadent Chocolate Chip Cookies.
Ice cream, especially PC Chocolate Fudge Crackle.
And of course, my homemade macaroni and cheese, which is what started this famish fest.
Meredyth's desire for comfort food, then, is something that I understand and nurture.
Em is the same.
Upset Em and be prepared to purchase an 18 wheelers worth of Kit Kat bars.
If you've really enraged her, better start lining up at McDonalds for Big Mac and fries.
In this respect, then, I've been a terrible role model for my children.
Teaching them that the best way to deal with upset, to meet the need for comfort, to manage your anger, is to eat your feelings.
As you can tell, I have eaten my feelings for so long that it's a miracle I can feel anything at all.
The thing is, eating your feelings is good in the short term, but long term all you get are more hurt feelings and pounds that are harder to lose the older you get.
Tonight, then, while watching my family ohh and ahh, ummm and yum while eating mac and cheese, I will be role modeling.
Carrot curry soup and black bread.
Yeah. Me.
Writing about food you can't eat is like masturbating.
Both serve their purpose.
But it just isn't the same.
Title Lyric: Cake by Comfort Eagle
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