Ah… Today is a 2-fer!

Every once in a while, life seems to come at you all at once:  potty training…. potty training mishaps…. child with croup…. almost clean house…. mis-scheduled surgery…. previously unknown physical restrictions following surgery…. child with pink eye…. attorney issues…. child with ear infections and severe cough…. unwarranted not so nice letter received…. disappointments…. second opinions…. and BOOM!!!  Your emotional circuit breaker trips.  It isn’t fun and it is quite a hit on the system.  However, after muddling around in the dark for a bit, you finally find the breaker box and flip the switch!  So, people, my cell phone is back on and the smile is back on my face.  Tonight I celebrated and had a great evening making pumpkin bread with the kiddos and being schooled in Uno by my 3 year old.  What a truly relaxing and enjoyable evening. 

So, what do I do to help flip that switch…. make BBQ chicken pizza. I have an AWESOME recipe for it.  However, with the great deals at Papa Murphy’s and limited time on my hands, I bought one instead. I am a complete sucker for that comfort food as it does bring me instant euphoria!  Just eating this amazing dish brings instant joy to my soul.  Until…..

Flash back to February 2002.  I loved chicken and would order it wherever I would go out to eat.  I had just discovered that I was 8 weeks prego with Nena and I had only told my best friend.  My inlaws invited us to lunch at Little America.  After looking at the menu, I immediately craved the chicken cordon bleu.  The meal couldn’t come soon enough.  When it finally did arrive (eons later in prego time) there it lay on the plate mocking me.  It was a tired old chicken breast laying on top of a soggy piece of bread topped with a piece of cold cheese and lunch meat grade ham.  I took one bite and had to high tail it to the nearest exit.  That, my friends, was the end of my love for chicken.

Flash forward to today.  It has really honestly and truly taken me nearly 9 years to get past that defining moment in my life.  I am still nowhere near being able to eat chicken on a daily basis again.  I try.  I try very very very very hard.  I trim my chicken like you would not believe.  I frequent Chick-Fil-A because my friend, who used to work there,  tells me they have a whole training course of making sure that the chicken is free of all of the “extras” that you don’t want.  Even some of my close friends go out of their way to completely mutilate my chicken when they invite me over to eat.  

It is on those rare occasions when I do let my guard down that it happens…. I bite into the gristle and I relive that dreadful February afternoon at Little America.

Yes, my friends, this evening, within the walls of my own home, my comfort food betrayed me.  I had thought about that piece of pizza all day long and salivated every time that the thought crossed my mind.  It was late, and as hard as I tried to talk myself out if it, I just couldn’t resist.  I was so enjoying that piece of leftover pizza.  Then BOOM… the gristle hit on the third bite and the rest of the pizza went into the garbage can. 

Good thing I had already reset the button!