My mother is the queen of sharing. When dining together, if your meal does not appear as appetizing as hers, she will not only offer you tastes, but will trade entrees on request. Unless you happened to order fish, she doesn’t eat fish. There must have been some sort of genetic glitch since I am not a big fan of sharing, food. My hoarding teeters on that of a child raised during the depression era and that, I am not.
Since there are such rare moments when I can sit and enjoy a salad or plate of nachos that I have thrown together for myself, I get a bit greedy when the little kids toddle over and begin to point and grunt at my delicacies. The bigger children give an “oooh, that looks good can I have some?” and pretty soon I’m up on my feet, with half of my meal pecked at by vultures, concocting nachos for four. This comes with surprise since they consumed lunch twenty minutes prior to my sitting down. Oh, for the metabolism of youth!
I’m even worse about sharing when I am eating dessert. After the children are kissed, hugged, prayed over, and covered, lights turned off, nightlights turned on, fans arranged and powered up, blankies located, “I love you’s” exchanged, backs tickled, and drinks of water administered…whew…deep breath…I love to plop my body on the couch with dessert in hand. I scoop out extreme amounts of chocolate chip ice cream and lather the top with whipped cream. Although my husband is well aware of my stinginess, on occasion he will ask for a bite of my dessert. Begrudgingly I serve him. Good thing we have opposite tastes in dessert. While he is a Popsicle, I am a frosted brownie covered with heaps of ice cream and whipped cream. Popsicles are a beverage not a dessert.
After coming clean with my selfish disease, I have mustered up the strength to share every now and again, unless I am in the middle of dessert.
Since there are such rare moments when I can sit and enjoy a salad or plate of nachos that I have thrown together for myself, I get a bit greedy when the little kids toddle over and begin to point and grunt at my delicacies. The bigger children give an “oooh, that looks good can I have some?” and pretty soon I’m up on my feet, with half of my meal pecked at by vultures, concocting nachos for four. This comes with surprise since they consumed lunch twenty minutes prior to my sitting down. Oh, for the metabolism of youth!
I’m even worse about sharing when I am eating dessert. After the children are kissed, hugged, prayed over, and covered, lights turned off, nightlights turned on, fans arranged and powered up, blankies located, “I love you’s” exchanged, backs tickled, and drinks of water administered…whew…deep breath…I love to plop my body on the couch with dessert in hand. I scoop out extreme amounts of chocolate chip ice cream and lather the top with whipped cream. Although my husband is well aware of my stinginess, on occasion he will ask for a bite of my dessert. Begrudgingly I serve him. Good thing we have opposite tastes in dessert. While he is a Popsicle, I am a frosted brownie covered with heaps of ice cream and whipped cream. Popsicles are a beverage not a dessert.
After coming clean with my selfish disease, I have mustered up the strength to share every now and again, unless I am in the middle of dessert.
Comments
I got her via Mel's blog Actual Unretouched Photo.
Glad I'm not the only food hoarder out there! I'm not sure why I don't like to share my food, but I never have.
When I first married 26 years ago I can remember being distressed when dining out with husband and/or his family. We'd go out and I'd order something and then he'd say "I was going to order that." Of course my response was "well then, order it." His reply? "I can't because you ordered it." In his family they were all used to ordering something different and then sharing. In my family you ordered what you wanted and then you ate it -- sharing optional. I'm happy to say we've gotten used to each others food ordering styles! I'm a wee bit better about sharing, but he understands if I smack his hand away from my food ;o)