Get in my belly

Yesterday I realized I am becoming one of those moms.

The ones who eat the leftover food.

I read someplace that eating the leftovers can be the reason one eventually needs mom jeans. It's like adding a meal to your day when you add up all the extra bites.

But yesterday, when Jack refused to eat the cantaloupe I put in front of him, I didn't want it to go to waste, so I popped it in my mouth. Same thing for the turkey and wheat bread.

I would have passed on the extra Veggie Booty, but Jack eats every last morsel and then licks his hands looking for more, so there wasn't any extra. I think it tastes like cardboard, but clearly, I don't have the refined palate of a child.

While I know intellectually that a half-slice of turkey should fill me up the same whether it's a slice or torn into 20 tiny pieces, my stomach just doesn't seem to get the idea. I was still hungry after eating it.

But now I see why moms eat off the kids' plates. After you feed them lunch, get the mess cleaned up and get them down for their afternoon nap, you're stuck with nothing to eat because you don't have any food in the house and you can't just run out for a bite because - duh - the baby is sleeping.

This has now happened to me more times than I can count. I always think I will have time to grab something, but then I realize I can't pick up anything hot before he eats, because it will be cold by the time he's done. Then he's asleep and I am considering eating my arm.

Yesterday I made a run for the border at 3 p.m. because I was desperate. Who eats Taco Bell in the middle of the afternoon? No one. Except starving moms.