Me: “This weekend is all about me.”
Husband: “That’s ridiculous.”
Me: “I’m the momma. I’m taking a weekend for me.”
Silence while he gauges my facial expression for a hint of a smile to tell him this is a joke. No smile.
For two days I will be selfish. I will put me first. How did I come to this? I will tell you.
It all began with a fairly innocent trip to McDonald’s for breakfast. As usual he cancels my order of two hash browns because he gets one with his meal and he doesn’t want it anyway. (Thus saving us the 45 cents another hash brown would have cost).
He’s done this a million times before and he always eats at least half even though he ‘didn’t really want it’ and the hash brown is my favorite part of the meal.
For some reason this time, I am enraged. Quietly. Like a volcano erupting invisible hot lava all over the Mcdonald’s tile.
We sit down. After a few minutes he reaches for MY hash brown. I watch in slow motion as he carefully trails a line of ketchup exactly down the middle from the perfectly made slice in the ketchup packet. He reaches for the hash brown.
SOMETHING SNAPS INSIDE OF ME.
He laughs. I don’t. His smile fades.
HIM: “You’re not going to give me a bite?”
ME: “No. This is MY hashbrown.”
HIM: “But you don’t even like the crunchy bit.”
ME: “But I DO like the crunchy bit. I like every bit of this hash brown and you’re not getting it it’s MINE.”
He watches incredulously as I eat both hash browns without giving him any. Not. One. Single. Bite.
I don’t know what got into me. As a rule, I don’t like to share my food. Food is a precious, lovely, transporting magic mixture of delights that I like to immerse myself in.
#Get. Your. Own. But I usually DO share. It makes him happy and I don’t really care do I?
Anyway the world didn’t end and everything went on as usual except I had a satisfying amount of warm crunchy hash brown and Bill has learned to ORDER HIS OWN IF HE WANTS ONE ALREADY.
But the hash brown incident got me thinking. How often do I give up what I want and need just to make sure everyone else is happy? Or, more accurately, how often do I stay silent about what I want because I don’t want to ‘make a fuss?’ Because what I want and need is ‘no big deal, it’s fine, I’m fine without it?’
I think my problem may not just be an Ange-issue, although I have plenty of those. (Eg – I LOVE Justin Beiber’s new song. I like to color in Ellie’s coloring book more than she does. I regularly eat a whole chocolate bunny by myself…). I think the hash brown incident may be highlighting an issue a lot of women have. I’m a little timid. I have a hard time asking for what I want.
Well this weekend I didn’t.
Saturday AM: Ate BOTH hashbrowns. Did not share.
Saturday AM: Ate the bum of my chocolate bunny that I had hidden in my bedroom nightstand drawer. Went back to bed and napped for 2 hours. Woke up and ate chips.
Saturday PM: Went over for a BBQ with some friends and when I got bored went upstairs and hung out with the kids. I am the Air Hockey Queen.
Sunday AM: Had a manicure AND a pedicure. At once. And put my ear phones in and listened to music even though I usually try to interact with the ladies so they don’t feel like I’m just some white lump of extravagance-loving socialite.
Sunday PM: Ellie naps. I listen to positive affirmations and meditate by myself, then write this blog. Bill attempts to get me to work outside. I shrug. (Can’t hear you over my headphones….)
So. This weekend has been all about me. About what I want. Now that I look over my weekend it looks like what I really crave is :
- Chocolate/junk food
- Alone time
So right now I’m going to go eat some ice-cream (Why I am not 400 pounds I do not know) and read a book. By myself.
Sometimes you need to be recharged by being with other people. By sharing stories, laughter, troubles and food. But sometimes the batteries way deep down in your soul need recharging. And they’re slow to charge. You need stillness. You need alone time.
There is solace in solitude and the wellspring of good humor about hash brown sharing can only bubble up if the depths within us are allowed to fill.
Maybe after this weekend of being ‘selfish’ and recharging my ‘deep-down’ batteries I can happily share my hash brown again. But not my chocolate bunny. Never the bunny.
2 thoughts on “The Hash Brown Incident”
Sometimes sweetie you need some me time
Now you know what the \”Mom's in the bathtub with the door locked\” Saturday afternoons were all about! 😀