We used to do this ministry thing in the apartment complex
where we lived in our early days. Basically, we planned and carried out events
for our complex with the intention of building relationships. I was pregnant
with our first, Lyric. But for the sake of this story you should know that I
was almost equally pregnant with a very large….sweet tooth. A sweet tooth like
no other sweet tooth, this sweet tooth could send me into tears at a moments
notice until I was driven to the nearest self-serve frozen yogurt
establishment. Cushioned atop billowing swirls of delightful vanilla and
chocolate yogurt with an occasional strawberry ribbon, were carefully selected
peanut m&ms and chocolate sprinkles. Ah the delight! Oh the satisfaction!
The initial sweet crunch of victory followed by the cool embrace of delicate
dairy. Uhh..err…pardon me. Back to
the story.
I had a part time job, and Austin had a few part time jobs.
This left me with ample time in the apartment. So I planned a Halloween event
for our big monthly shin dig. We made food and I got the high school small group I
led to help me make like a million black foam bats to hang around the apartment
office along with egg crate spiders. (This was pre-pinterest, people. This is
craftiness you actually had to work for, no one handed it to me on a silver
platter of cuteness.) I put together a myriad of fun games and a costume
contest, put the flyers out for the party and hit up Costco. (Oh Costco, how I
long for you. You are the superior bulk shopping store.) No…wait…I was
distracted by my bias for Costco vs. Sams Club. I did not buy the candy at
Costco I bought it at Target. And yes, that detail does matter. You will need
to have an idea of the approximate size of the bags of candy I bought…and I
have a sweet tooth, but not quite at the Costco level. Anyway. One of the nice
things about our apartment manager was that he asked that we only buy name
brand products. He didn’t want the events looking janky. (janky: homemade but
not in the good way, unprofessional, pieced together, makeshift. Pronounced: jane-key) So I arrived home with four,
count them- four variety bags of name brand candy. The afternoon of Halloween
we set up our adorable party and waited for the party goers and trick or
treaters to come by on their way out for a night of fun. And we waited….and we
waited. And then our two couple friends who lived in the complex came by. Then
thankfully a really sweet family with a really sweet toddler came by (we could
always count on them). And then…the occasional resident paying their rent would
notice our party and grab a little candy while they waited. Seven. Seven people
and one dog. Seven people, one dog, and four bags of candy. Nine people if you
count Austin and me. We waited it out for the painstaking two hours that the
party was scheduled for and then packed up and went home.
Maybe it was the pain of event failure. Maybe it was the
pregnancy. I’m almost sure it wasn’t my utter lack of self-control. Whatever
the reason…that candy haunted me in the days following the party. One bag of candy had been left in the
office, one bag of candy had been prematurely opened in anticipation of a big
turn out for the party, and two bags remained unopened. It made perfect sense
that we would save that candy and use it at future events. In fact, now that
I’m writing it out…I think I might have actually stolen that candy by technicality,
since it was for our residents. So in my weakness I started treating myself to
a little lunch time mini candy bar or two. Then eventually that became a lunch
candy and a mid afternoon candy. Then, before I knew it, I had found the bottom
of that bag. I needed more. So I dove into the next bag of variety candy. It
was the good stuff people, Kit Kat, Snickers, Butterfinger, M&M’s. I
quickly realized that Austin would never approve of the complete and utter
gluttony I was entertaining. So I did what any good wife would do when she is
faced with the decision between her man and her sugar. I hid the sugar. This
kept my man in blissful ignorance and my sweet tooth satisfied. I would give this marriage advice to anyone. We had a ridic-U-lous kitchen with
the best storage EVER. It was so easy to hide that candy. All wadded up in the
back corner of the lower cabinet beside the pantry, I can still see it. When I
started eating more than two four six candies a day…I began to hide the wrappers
between different trashcans or bury the wrappers under at least three other
larger pieces of trash. As you can see…it was a problem. And that problem came
to (some) light one fateful prenatal appointment. Like any good dad with a
weird hodge podge of jobs, Austin came with me to every appointment but one. At
this appointment I was supposed to gain between one and two pounds. I gained at
least six. And that’s when my wonderful, Christian, cowboy, fatherly, doctor
told me blunty in front of my still newly wedded husband, that two pounds of my
weight gain was for my baby and the rest was just me.
That’ll get ya.
So I finished up that bag of candy and then decided that I
wouldn’t buy more. Wow, I can just bask in the light of that discipline and
wisdom. I mean really, that took guts.
And so was the tale of the many mini candy bars. A couple of
YEARS later, I confessed to Austin. And it went something like this “Remember
how I mysteriously got so huge with Lyric and with the other kids I haven’t had
that happen? Well…..” And to this day I have to take extreme measures to keep
my addiction under control. If you follow me on instagram, you are almost guaranteed
to see a picture of my three self allotted Halloween candies. I’m already
excited! I love you, candy.
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