I have mentioned in at least one of my previous posts that my sisters favor my husband Mike. Without a doubt, they would claim him if we would ever divorce. They each have their own individual reasons why they like him so much but they all agree that I do not treat him well. Poor, poor Mike, such a nice guy and he has to live with Karen. Why ‘o why can’t she ever cut the dear man a break? And Mike, of course, agrees with them and enjoys watching me squirm as I try to defend my “cruel and excessive” behavior.
Mike has learned to play my sisters against me. He doesn’t tell them why he is in trouble with me but has learned to leave hints. And since I have been challenging his eating habits lately and have been unresponsive to his food needs, he started leaving really big obvious hints for my sisters.
It all started when I banned chips from the house unless they were for company. I told Mike that they were unhealthy, expensive and were a source of excess caloric intake. Mike loves chips and didn’t take the new rule very well and grumbled for days. A few days later, he offered to make dinner for my sister Sue and my nephews. Chicken and potatoes. He was in the kitchen all afternoon. And when they arrived and sat down in the living room, Mike walked in with a glass pyrex casserole dish full of brown strips.
Mike: “You guys have to try these. I made them myself and I’d like your honest opinion.”
Sue and the nephews: “What are they?”
Mike: “I’m glad you asked. While peeling potatoes for dinner, I had a thought. What if I baked the skins and added Old Bay seasoning to them to make chips? I think they taste really good. What do you guys think?”
Sue and the nephews loved his chips. I admired his ingenuity but braced myself for what was going to happen next.
Sue: “These are great but isn’t it a lot of work for just a few chips?”
Mike: “Well Karen, really doesn’t want chips in the house.”
Sue: “Chips! No chips! Why can’t Mike have chips?”
Just take a moment and think how to answer the question diplomatically. Especially when you are defending your actions against a saint. A humble and hungry man, who was willing to make dinner and even thrifty enough to use what a lesser man may have discarded to create an appetizer. What a LOSER I am. Sue and the nephews scolded me the rest of the night and even offered to bring Mike a bag of chips next time they were over. Score, Mike: 1, Karen: 0.
A few weeks later, I banned sweets from the house except for special occasions. Mike has absolutely NO self-control when it comes to sugar. His grandfather had worked for MARS candy and when Mike was young, he had access to all the candy he could eat. To this day, he has an insatiable sweet tooth. Mike did not like the new rule. And so when Sue stopped by with not 1 but 2 partial cakes left over from birthday parties at work, Mike was so happy. So happy, that it somehow slipped out that I didn’t allow sweets in the house.
Sue: “Karen! Why can’t Mike have any sweets?”
Me: “Did Mike tell you that?”
Sue: “Is it true?”
Of course it was true. What could I say? She wouldn’t listen to me anyway. She told my sisters about it. Lucky me, my sisters called to lecture me about my behavior. Score, Mike: 2, Karen: 0. And the worse was yet to come.
So my sisters have been bringing Mike treats and chips. And I have continued my campaign to have Mike eat less. It’s not working. He calls eating only 3 meals a day “starvation”. To compromise, I decided that he could eat as much as he
wanted as long as it was healthier food. To me, this meant less meat but all the fruits, vegetables and grains that he could eat. I suggested that he eat more cheese. Maybe that would help him feel full. Mike was not happy. Then one day, while looking at the food ads (dreaming about the food he wasn’t allowed to eat), he had a revelation.
Mike: “Karen! Check this out. You can buy boneless chicken breasts for $1.33 a pound. It’s cheaper than cheese.”
Me: “I feel better if you eat the cheese.”
Mike: “Seriously Karen, it’s a $1.33 a pound.”
Me: “Doesn’t it make you wonder how they can sell it for so little? It bothers me. Eat cheese.”
So again, Mike was unhappy. I took him to Super Kmart where they were having a huge sale on cheese. He bought pounds of muenster, cheddar, swiss, mozzarella and colby. When we returned home, he loaded all the cheese into the refrigerator. And as fate would have it, my sister Kat arrived a few moments later and walked right to the refrigerator to pour herself a soft drink.
Kat: “Holy CHEESE, Batman! What’s going on in here?”
Mike: “Super Kmart was having a sale on cheese.”
Kat: “Is there any left at the store or did you buy it all?”
Mike: “Well, Karen would like me to eat less meat.”
Kat: “FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! KAREN! WHY CAN”T MIKE HAVE MEAT!”
Then Kat lectured me about being unreasonable and called my sisters to let them know what a JERK I really am. The nephews heard about the meat ban and asked Mike to go out on Halloween with them.
The nephews: “Uncle Mike, you can trick or treat with us. You can just say trick or meat!”
I can’t win. Believe me, Mike is NOT starving and withering away. Despite my claims that my actions are in Mike’s best interest and not because I am methodically plotting against him, my sisters are taking action. One of my sisters stopped by at 8pm and brought the leftovers from her dinner. Hot sausage and meatballs. She joked nervously, “Oops, I made too much. There is no way my family can eat all this food. I thought Mike might enjoy it.” One of my sisters brought leftovers from the high school cafeteria. Chicken sandwiches and cookies. “Oh my, there were so many leftovers today. And they were just going to throw them away. And then I thought, Mike might like these.” My favorite story is from the sister who cleaned out her freezer and brought all the frozen meat she had in it over to my house. She was just cleaning out the freezer and had more than she needed. More than she needed included a package of chicken legs with a best if used by date of August 28, 2007.
Me: “Those chicken legs go in the trash, Mike.”
Mike: “Are you sure? They were in the freezer. Nothing can happen to them.”
Me: “Listen to me. They go in the trash.”
Mike: “I think you’re wrong. I’ll make soup.”
Needless to say, Mike demanded that we check the internet to prove the legs were still edible. I was sure that I would find page after page confirming my assertion that chicken legs that have been frozen for over 2 years should not be eaten. It wasn’t as easy as I assumed. Mike will only believe they are bad if he sees in bold red print, DANGER! Chicken frozen for over 2 years is bad for you! Do not eat! This means you, Mike! Instead we found page after page recommending using frozen chicken within 9 – 12 months or its structural integrity will be compromised. To Mike that means, “Perfect for soup” and to me it means, “There is no way in Hell that you are going to eat that meat!”
In all seriousness, I did not think Mike was going to cook the chicken legs. But there is always a chance that he will surprise me. So the next time I ventured out to the store, I snuck into the kitchen, placed the chicken into a bag, walked down to the car and drove towards the nearest public trash can. Problem solved. Of course, my sisters will still send Mike gifts of chips, sweets and meat and he will thank them wholeheartedly. And Mike will end up with more food than we ever had in the house before. And I have to admit that Saint Mike is a very clever man.