Hurricane Force Oreos

When I was a little girl my dad used to have a friend named Dave. Dave lived on some property that had horses and tennis courts and all kinds of goodies. It was a wonderland for missy and me. My dad would go over there to play tennis sometimes, and take us with him. Would sound boring, but we were entertained. Sometimes we hung out with Dave’s super cool wife, who was from Sweden, or we ran around like banshees, or we pretended to play tennis ourselves.

Well one day after a wonderfully great day, we were all getting ready to leave but the super awesome Swedish wife lady brought out the ultimate treat: 

 

Oreos and milk.

DIAGRAM 1: OREOS AND MILK

 Please note the GLORIOUSITY being emitted from the milk and cookies. Awesomeness. 

  

Woop woop! 

Great Goodness! All is right with the world. My sister and I eagerly anticipated the moment the tray touched down to the table so we could wreak havoc! 

 

Luckily my dad was one of those "let's-go-but-I-am-still-gonna-chat-for-another-hour" types. Sometimes I HATED it. This time it was fine with me because I was all about those cookies.

 

[Insert long boring adult conversation] 

 

When my dad was finally ready to actually leave I was immediately concerned about the remaining Oreos. My thought process:

How can I leave them behind? 

Those are my deserved cookies.

When could I possibly get oreos again?

I can't believe I won't get to finish them.

I need at least a few more.

So I did the only thing I could think of: I jammed three in my mouth and chugged a big gulp of milk so I could at least close my mouth. I couldn’t talk but was satisfied that I had done all I could to not be cheated of my rightful Oreos. (Let's not forget that by now I had already been eating Oreos for like 45 minutes)

DIAGRAM 2: GREEDY BASTARD

  This diagram illustrates my natural ability to be greedy with milk and cookies.  

As I stood up to wave goodbye, I all of the sudden felt it coming...

... a sneeze.

This is gonna be bad.

There was no stopping it. With the milliseconds I had, I spun around away from the innocent bystanders just in time for the inevitable. It felt like rocks. It came out of my mouth annnnd my nose in full cookie chunks. Annnnnnnnnd all over Dave and the awesome Swedish wife lady’s lawn furniture. I mean everywhere. They say sneezes have the same force as a hurricane. Well I hurricaned my Oreos and milk all over the damn place. 

DIAGRAM 3: ZOOM IN ON NOSE SPRAY

  Close up on the painful, painful escape route for my milk and cookies
with the force of a hurricane pushing it all out. 

DIAGRAM 4: HURRICANE FORCE SPRAY ZONE

  This spray zone easily covered some lawn furniture.
However, had I not spun around it would have easily covered numerous people.  

It was horrific and quickly followed with my dad, “DAMNIT SARAH!”

I felt bad. But I felt the most upset about those last Oreos. Never to be eaten. I had enough sense not to express what my truest concerns where. Thank God I had some milk in my mouth, or it woulda been ALL cookie- no lube. That’s rough.

That's what I get for being a greedy bastard. But in all honesty, how can you ask a kid to control themselves with milk and cookies??????? 

It is impossible. (deep sigh to reflect the truth of this)

MORAL OF THE STORY:

Option 1: don’t sneeze with food in your mouth

Option 2: if possible, spit food out of mouth prior to snneze. Still messy, but not as much force or spread.

Option 3: don’t be so damn greedy with the cookies and milk.

Does not EQUAL

It must be hard being a parent. Even harder being a step-parent. My step-mom and I used to have a pretty rocky relationship. She was pretty strict, and kids don't always see the value in that. One thing she was adamant about was the amount of sweets my sister and I consumed. The rule was one sweet with our lunch, and a dessert after dinner. I found this unfathomable, and as a child I knew everything - of course.

One time, she overheard me gabbing with my friend on the phone about how I lost my last baby tooth (I was in early middle school) eating a piece of Heather's fruit roll up! But she was clever, she acted as if she did not hear me. Hours later, when I had all but forgotten about my phone conversation, the poop hit the fan. And I was grounded. I was no match, and had no argument in my defense prepared. I was caught red handed confessing to the crime. Problem being, I could not give up telling whomever was on the phone about this crazy day I had. (shocking, I know!) It was always my mouth that got me caught up. My favorite defense, "that's not fair, " only ever made things worse but I couldn't let go.

I tell you this to say: Trisha did not play. Annnnd that I was truly no match for her.

So, a little while later (months, or maybe the following school year) I began to have a small window of time that I was home alone. My parents took this EXTREMELY seriously. I had numerous sit down talks where the rules were laid out. They tried to catch me breaking the rules, and went out of the way to call and check on me numerous times. In reality, I was not a bad kid, but my parents had been. So they assumed the worst in me. I got accused of things I had never even thought of! lol. I certainly was not creative in the rule breaking department.

My areas of weakness: talking and food. (as we saw in the above example)

So even though I did not sneak people in, nor did I sneak out, watch bad stuff on TV, make phone calls (even though they swear I did), the one thing I did do was SNACK! I was always hungry! When I got home from school I would scour the kitchen looking for possibilities. By this time I knew Trisha was usually a step ahead of me. So I stayed away from anything that could be easily be counted. Like a pack of tasty-cakes. There were only a few in a box, and even if she did not notice that one pack was missing, she would eventually catch on. I was thinking long term. So I would nibble. A bite of some leftover rice, a microscopic sliver off a cake, a few slices of some cheese, and a pepperoni slice or two. The way I ate was like a thief in the night. I would stare at everything and memorize which way the labels were facing. Everything would be put back EXACTLY as I found it. I would not be found out.

Following this method, the snack I found everyday varied dramatically. And I often told myself I couldn't risk it any longer and this was the last time. I was genuinely afraid of getting in trouble. But apparently hunger trumps fear. You would think I was starved, but I wasn't. I ate breakfast, had a good sized lunch that left me feeling full, and was always given large portions at dinner. It just did not matter, by the time I got out of school I was hungry again. And not for a "granola bar" or "yogurt" as Trisha often suggested. Insert Middle School Sarah rolling her eyes here.

Sometimes I had a sweet tooth. I remember one day in particular. I looked in every cabinet, on every shelf, in the fridge, the freezer, and could not find a single sweet thing. I was getting desperate. I HAD to have something sweet. I was starting to loose control. "WHERE AM I GOING TO GET SOMETHING SWEET???" I was like a lion on the prowl. I knew that kitchen held sweets somewhere. If I did not get something sweet now I would have to wait HOURS until after dinner. To children, hours often seem like decades. That meant like 4 decades until sweetness. Absolutely not. No way. I knew there was something sweet around there. When I was on the brink of accepting defeat, I noticed something on the top of the fridge. Was that sugar?

Yes people, I was ready to eat straight sugar. Afterall, sugar was what made everything else sweet. I pretty much considered myself a genius for this. Duh Sarah! Why even worry about all of that other stuff when you can get the concentrated stuff? (sounds eerily similar to a drug problem) At this age I was probably like 4 feet and 6 inches tall even though I was in middle school. But I nimbly hopped up on the counter, reached around some other stuff and grabbed the box. It said "Equal."

Inner dialog: Hmmm.... equal? Is that the same as sugar? Grandmom alsways adds it to her coffee at the kmart dinner. So it must be sweet. How come I dont see Dad and Trisha use it that often? Maybe this is just another brand of sugar. Oh look, it is in those same little packets like at the dinner too. Whatever, this is perfect!!

At this point I ripped open like two equal packets and dumped the entire contents into my mouth. The moment before the crystals impacted my tongue I was salivating imagining the sweet goodness about to splash down upon me. All this hard work and searching would pay off: I was waltzing my taste buds right into candyland. Oh what glory awaited!!!

Has anyone out there actually tasted equal? If not, DON'T. It was so disgusting. The only thing that kept me from spitting it all over the place was my fear of getting caught. With my taste buds trying to recover from the near death experience I had subjugated them to, I put the box back EXACTLY as I had found it, jumped down rinsed and my mouth out. I was mortified. Grandmom puts that in her coffee??? No offense to equal, but it is NOT the sweet goodness that sugar is. I was done. I did not want any more sweets for the day. I spent a good portion of the evening pondering this phenomenon called equal. Why do people use it? What are its purposes? Does it in fact sweeten things? I could not ask anyone because I was too afraid to get caught. But for years, until I actually understood what artificial sweeteners were, I could not watch someone use it without a look of disgust and taste bud flashbacks. It may not even be that bad, but I was completely unprepared.

I guess I didn't even need to get caught to get punished. That was definitely punishment enough.

As a side note: You would not even recognize my parents now. My little brothers eat hot fudge sundae pop tarts for breakfast and the house is filled with candy. Its probably good it wasn't then though. I woulda been a fat kid forreal. Of course my little brothers are toothpicks. Kudos to Trisha though for trying to make us eat healthy. If my future kids are anything like me, its gonna be a hard ride on the healthy train. I'll be calling in reinforcements: Trisha!! lol! Thanks Patty Cake! love ya!


picture at the top: My visual representation of when I imagined I was waltzing my tastebuds right into candyland- but was NOT. Equal does not equal Sweet. (once again no offense equal)