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Friday, February 20, 2015

It's not about the muffin

This morning Joel took my last muffin.  My LAST MUFFIN!

He should have known better.  Really.

I'm a little sensitive about my food.

And by a little, I mean A LOT.

Seriously.

Joel learned early in our relationship that as good of an idea as it sounds to order two dishes and split them, thus sampling both... it is not.

No.  I would sit forward in my chair, fork poised above my food, staring at him.  I didn't have time to eat my own half because I was spending every second literally counting his bites.  If there were twenty-three french fries, I had better get eleven and a half.  If we split a piece of cake I would all but pull out my ruler, calculating the area of each triangle in my head, guaranteeing their absolute equality.

Joel would just eat.  It drove me crazy.

We don't share food anymore.  It was too much pressure.  For both of us.

But I like to think he knows these things about me now.  That he understand me.  As a person.  As a food lover.

Clearly he does not.

I'm all about the being last thing.  Really.  Unless the being last thing refers to food acquisition.  And then I have to, have to, be first.

So when Joel took my last muffin he was calling into question the natural order of things.  He was turning everything we've worked so hard to build these past ten years UPSIDE DOWN.

So, of course, I called him.  I can understand that you should probably refrain from calling your husband when you're in a hungry, fiery rage.  But in that moment my stomach was louder than my head.  So I called.

When I finally finished there was a short pause.

"I didn't know the muffin was so important to you," came his reply.

Our marriage has survived some things.  But I wasn't so sure it could survive this.

"I still have the muffin," he says, after round two.  "When you drop the boys off I'll bring it out to you."

"Don't bother.  Just keep your muffin.  It's not about the muffin anyhow.  It's about what the muffin means."
---

This afternoon Finn and I made more muffins.  I ate one.  I felt happy.

Turns out, it was about the muffin.


Full Disclosure: There were actually two muffins left, which were meant for the boys' lunches.  Unfortunately Joel has yet to acquire mind-reading capabilities, and didn't realize this fact.  So in the end, I suppose his muffin-taking motives were pure:)

4 comments:

  1. I laughed out loud reading this one. When mama needs to eat, she needs to eat.
    It is devastating when the food you were counting on is not there. I hear ya.

    "I didn't know the muffin was so important to you." It is. It really is.

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    Replies
    1. Yes, Julie! Devastating is not too strong of a word. It is the exact right word! So glad you can understand:)

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  2. So funny! We'll have muffins when you come in the summer...and you get the last one.

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