Food of the gods

I have a problem. I think I am really, truly, addicted to peanut butter. I can not remember a day in the recent past when I have not consumed peanut butter, in one form or another, at least once. I used to have a pretty normal relationship with peanut butter. I had a jar in my pantry and occasionally would have some on a piece of toast, then I had kids. Once you have children, peanut butter becomes so central to your existence running out is akin to McDonald's running out of fries.

My children are not helping with my addiction as their appetite for this heavenly spread had increased and varied in its applications. Since they eschew most forms of animal flesh I'm happy they eat something containing protein and dole it out liberally. Their favorite manifestation - the cut-out peanut butter sandwich - is especially problematic since once I cut out the shape, I am left with the entire crust with which to plumb the depths of the peanut butter jar. And yes, they are total freaks and DO NOT like jelly with their peanut butter. We also eat it on apples, crackers, bagels and toast. This may not seem like a big deal to you until you realize one tablespoon has almost one hundred calories. One tablespoon? Please. That's the amount I lick off the knife while making the sandwiches. Never mind when I start in with my finger. Eeew. That sounds gross out loud.

It's gotten so bad my husband and I were watching The Biggest Loser and a trivia question came up asking how much peanut butter the average American eats in one year. To which my husband quipped, "A normal person, or Mary?" Smug asshole. He is free from peanut butter's evil grip as he is the sticky paws of chocolate and pie. Let's see how funny you are when they put up a bacon question, smart guy. He's right though. Manys the night I have sat next to him on the couch eating peanut butter directly from a jar with a spoon ala Dee from What's Happening? and wondered where the rest of the jar had gone at the end of the night.

I suppose there are worse things to be addicted to, booze for instance, but my situation is like an alcoholic working as a bartender. Will I ever be able to get this monkey off my back if constantly faced with it? Perhaps if I switch my kids to chunky style, which I find abhorrent and a crime against nature since it basically looks like a bag of half-digested peanuts instead of peanuts that have intentionally been ground smooth. My brother in-law was given a PB&J on rye made with chunky PB and strawberry jam while on an outing with a friend's family when he was nine years old - that woman should have been drawn and quartered.

For now I will comfort myself with the fact that my vice is full of protein which I need for nursing and healthy fats to raise my good cholesterol. Maybe when the kids get older and actually begin eating more than the nine foods currently in their repertoire it'll be easier to get over this vice. I tell my husband to become concerned when I start telling him every time he asks me for a favor "Gimme a quarter."*

*Which, if you do not know was Dee's catch phrase when Rog asked her not to tattle, get to YouTube immediately.