No Sharing!

My mother is the queen of sharing. When dining together, if your meal does not appear as appetizing as hers, she will not only offer you tastes, but will trade entrees on request, unless you happened to order fish. She doesn’t eat fish.

There must have been some sort of genetic glitch since I am not a big fan of sharing food. My hoarding teeters on that of a beaver who is anticipating a long winter.

Since there are such rare moments when I can sit and enjoy a salad or plate of nachos that I have thrown together for myself, my greediness accelerates when the little kids saunter over and begin to stare at my delicacies. The bigger children give an, “Oooh, that looks good. Can I have some?” and pretty soon I’m up on my feet, with half of my meal pecked at by vultures, concocting nachos for four. I’m often surprised at their willingness to eat again after they consumed lunch twenty minutes prior to my sitting down. Oh, for the metabolism of youth!

I’m even worse about sharing dessert. After the children are kissed, hugged, prayed over, and covered, lights turned off, nightlights turned on, fans arranged and powered up, blankies located, “I love you’s” exchanged, backs tickled, and drinks of water administered (insert a sigh, whew, and deep breath, here), I love to scoop out extreme amounts of chocolate chip ice cream into a bowl, slather the top with whipped cream, and then plop my body on the couch for some down time.

Although my husband is well aware of my stinginess, on occasion, in the middle of my ice cream intake, he will ask for a bite of my dessert. Begrudgingly I serve him. Good thing we typically have opposite tastes in dessert. While he is a Popsicle, I am a frosted brownie covered with heaps of ice cream and whipped cream. Popsicles are a beverage, not a dessert.

After coming clean with my selfish disease, I have mustered up the strength to share every now and again with less bitterness. However, I now know better than to make nachos or a bowl of ice cream for myself when the children are present. At those moments I stick with something they will avoid—a feta cheese and spinach omelet.

Linda Vujnov is a writer and speaker and the mother of four kids, a girl and three boys. She blogs at Spilt Milk.

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