“Mom we need to talk.” Is it just me, or does every scary conversation begin this way? I’m usually the one saying it. So this is weird.

“Yeah”, What’s up?” I reply.

My daughter grabs my brand new, soon to be inhaled box of cereal off the counter and hugs it like a newborn babe. Finally! Someone else feels the same about those chocolatey peanut butter puffs of perfection.

“I am taking these!”

“But why?” I yell. Feeling threatened as I stare her down. At this point, I’m thinking, “Wow! All you have to do is ask for your own. No need to take mine.” (Notice here I did not offer to share my coveted box of bliss. She’ll just have to exercise patience and wait until I can Instacart some more in. Hey — times are hard in these streets).

She breathes out a frustrated sigh. “No! I’m not taking them to eat. I’m taking them away from you. You’re eating way too much of this — this junk food. Do you even know how many grams of sugar are in a serving?” More probing looks and a slight foot tap. “13 mom! Thirteen grams of added sugar for every cup you eat.”

I’m still confused and thinking if it takes thirteen grams of crystallized cane to make each and every golden brown and chocolaty sphere of glory, so be it. My body needs this- every day. Sometimes twice a day, if I were being honest.

“Mom! Did you hear me? You can’t keep eating this. It’s not good for you. I’m taking it!”

I feel my face flush a bit. The thought of allowing her to walk away with that box is not an option. I love her but, I am willing to wrestle a middle-schooler if needed. I hope there’s time to take a couple of Ibuprofen in case I hurt something I’m going to need.

I square my shoulder and face her full on. Wait! Why is there love in her soft brown eyes? “No! Look away!” my thoughts yell! “Look away and prepare for battle!” I glance down trying to remember wrestling moves I’ve seen on TV. This just got real!

“Mom remember your goals. Let’s put these away and make a better plan.”

Oh, man! I can’t wrestle her. She’s so sweet and loving. But maybe I can bribe her brother to do it? Yeah! He’d do it for extra Fortnite time. I look up in time to see her walking away with my box of spherical satisfaction. My BOX!!! Wait! What’s that sound? Did I just howl?

This is the moment I realized I have a problem. She’s right. I am becoming addicted to the large amounts of sugar inside every increasing serving of peanut butter choco-puff delight.

When this whole stay at home business started, I had a plan. I was going to focus on taking better care of myself and my family. I planned to eat healthily, cook whole foods, and exercise three times a week.

Things started out strong. I was cooking more. Getting enough sleep and taking long walks. It was all good until…

The stress and monotony of being home EVERY single day started wearing on me. Getting groceries delivered consistently was a challenge also. I told myself, ‘Get everything you need at once. Make each grocery haul count. So, I did. I ordered all my usual items. Then I started adding in a treat here and there thinking, we could use a little pick me up. Once while loading my virtual grocery cart, I scrolled past the infamous box. It seemed to give me that flirty “Remember me?” look. “I do”. My soul whispered back. And just like that, we were in a committed relationship, more in love than ever.

My health plan faded away with each spoonful of crunchy crack.

And now you know why my daughter held an intervention — a peanut butter, chocolate puff intervention.

I know one day I will thank her. I honestly appreciate what she did for me. She pulled me out of a dark place where the walls are lined with sugar.

I am grateful.

I want to make her proud. So, today I made broccoli. If my beautiful cereal had a smelly, aggressive sibling, it would be broccoli. I ate the dang broccoli. It wasn’t as palate-pleasing as my bowl of bliss, but I didn’t hate it either. I discovered that ten small bites of broccoli are my limit though.

 I’ll take it one cruciferous at a time.

As for my Corona glow up, well I’m not there yet. I’m more like a, trying to start a campfire with some twigs dried weeds, and a stone. The potential to glow up or at least smolder up is there. All the raw materials are there. I just need to commit to the work.

*Most of the events happened as recorded. (Yeah that’s pretty sad.)

Written by Kim Jagwe of Sowl Studios