Last night, we took the kids out to eat ice cream. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen little kids eat ice cream, and watched the expressions on their faces, but it’s a combination of absolute joy, absolute concentration (they can’t even hear me asking if they like their ice creams, because they are so in the zone), and what I can only describe as absolute “making this moment last as long as possible”—which, in ice cream time, equals a melted, sticky mess.
In honor of summer, I’ve decided that I can eat as much ice cream and snacks as I want—but only if I can enjoy it as much as my kids enjoy their ice creams. And, I’m not going to eat just any old thing—old being the operative word—leftover Halloween candy, stale donuts in the break room, instant kimchee ramen. When I snack, it’ll be the good stuff—the cupcake that takes a special car ride to get, the fancy chocolate bar from the grocery store, the perfect parfait made from fruit and the good yogurt with the cream on top, maybe even something I (gasp!) bake myself.
Sure, it might be inconvenient and perhaps spendy, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. When I get a chance to go to the cupcake shop, I’ll be (mentally, perhaps or perhaps not) jumping up and down with excitement, like how my kids do when they get a treat. The anticipation is part of the whole experience. Patience, too--instant gratification is nice, but I always regret that 3:30p.m. Snickers bar I bought from the machine and snarfed in about 45 seconds.
No more mindless snacking while watching Netflix, or eating a whole bag of chips while working at the computer—if I eat something outrageously bad for me, I’m going to outrageously enjoy it. I will be mentally and emotionally committed to every chocolatey/gooey/crunchy/sweet (fat/sugar/salt-laden) bite!
At the very least, it will keep my keyboard from getting crumbs in it.
Yay, summer!
-Meredith
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