By Gretchen Leigh

As emotionally fragile as I felt with medication I was taking to treat my multiple sclerosis symptoms, I was surprised I never burst into tears. But towards the end of my treatment, if anything could have made me cry, it would have been the Great Chocolate Incident.

My daughters had a spontaneous barbecue and campfire the Thursday evening I took my last dose. My youngest picked up s’more makings to enjoy around the campfire. After I had my fill, I left the kids around the fire until the logs burned down.

When I arose, I noticed they put away the s’more makings on the pantry shelf above the dryer, which is between my bedroom and the kitchen. I was happy to see there were still chocolate bars left. Though I felt normal at that time, around one, my appetite kicked in like it had all week because of the meds. I started an eating frenzy.

By then I think the girls had been awake all of 20 minutes. I stopped eating long enough to ponder what would satisfy me and end the binge. I suddenly had to have a Hershey bar dipped in real peanut butter. I reached for the chocolate bars and they were gone. I wailed, mostly internally. The kids still had company, so I couldn’t scream at them. I just whined, checked to make sure they weren’t stashed somewhere, then holed up in my room to pout.

I hated my children, which was one of those impulsive perceptions one shouldn’t say out loud. I kept it to myself, knowing when the despair over the missing chocolate bars passed and I calmed down, I’d feel differently. I didn’t really hate my children, I just hated their behavior. Blah, blah, blah. They are technically adults, but it was chocolate after all. Wasn’t it about time they moved out?

A while later, they packed up and went to the mall. Their absence didn’t improve my mood and I happened on the idea of chocolate chip pancakes. I whipped up pancake mix and went to the hall pantry to get the chocolate chips. No chocolate chips. Argh! Why can’t anyone write stuff on the grocery list? The kicker of all this is, I’ve been dieting for the past eleven months and I’ve lost a lot of weight. I rarely eat chocolate. All I needed in that moment was chocolate. I reasoned because of my mental state, driving somewhere to procure chocolate wasn’t a good idea. So I ate pancakes with peanut butter and syrup, and stuffed my feelings until all the craziness passed. Not one of my finest moments, but at least I didn’t freak out in front of their friends. They came home with fancy peanut butter cups to placate the wild beast they knew I had become. Though I said thank you, it was too little too late.

A few days later, I divulged to them my rage during the Great Chocolate Incident and told them at that moment I wanted them to move out. Then my youngest said, “At that moment I wanted to move out.”

It took me by surprise. One because they have it pretty easy here at home. I do all the shopping, laundry and cooking. They just have to help clean house every once in awhile, commute an hour to school four days a week, and keep up with their homework. And two she’s the one who never wanted to move out. Then my oldest, who lived away from home a couple years ago said, “I’m pretty happy living at home and commuting.”

So the only lessons I learned from the Great Chocolate Incident are that they’re never going to leave home and even though they are adults, I still have to hide the chocolate.

Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can read more of her writing and her blog on her website livingwithgleigh.com or on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh by Gretchen Leigh,” or twitter @livewithgleigh. Her column is available every week at maplevalleyreporter.com under the Life section.