I get unpleasant when I’m hungry. As the people who run breaks at work or anyone within earshot two hours or more after my last meal know, I am always ready to eat. The nice thing about being hungry is that a big salad, a foot-long sub (plus chips and a drink), and/or a large order of fries and a few cheeseburgers with extra pickles will usually do the trick. Few things compare to that state of satiation after eating a good meal; I can pretty much do anything when I’m well-fed.
(Just because he’s cute, eating, and he’s my phone wallpaper right now)
Today I realized how hungry I truly am. With a couple of hours to spare between work and picking up ‘Rado, I decided to run a bath. I hate taking showers, so wanting to take a bath is a big deal for me. I started the water and kept checking back on it hungrily, the inside of my cheeks puckering at the thought of sinking deep into that steaming water. Problem was, the water wasn’t steaming. In my excitement I plunged into the tub without it first and my steaming bath turned into a lukewarm one, which then ended in a cold shower. Maybe this house isn’t a hot bath kinda place.
Now that his teething, snotty, tired little butt is in bed, I know that I’m always hungry for more time with Connor all while I’m calculating how many more hours are left till he goes to daycare or bed. I want him to be a good person, to be kind, I’m practically starving for him to grow up more decisive and braver than me. I want to eat up all those precious moments of him learning to walk, playing by himself, and speaking jibber jabber. Unfortunately, I also hunger for some sort of positive feedback from other parents that I’m doing well or that we’re doing something right. Dumb – that won’t matter if I don’t believe we’re raising a rock star kid, which we are.
I have so many things to be thankful for in my life and there are many places where I am content, but hunger is everywhere. Hunger as the fire in my stomach, then a flame in my veins, then it hits my brain and that’s often where it’s smothered. When food is involved, my brain cooperates and all of me happily mows. If there’s a different hunger in the mix, one that a can of almonds can’t fix, whoa nelly, we have problems. So here I am, hungry and hungry, trying to figure out how to keep my mind from interfering so much with getting fed. I gotta find something to eat…