I seriously am, like, giddy with excitement to write about what I did yesterday while you were all getting enraged about a Time magazine cover and discussing Obama and gay marriage, but, alas, I’m waiting for images of me and Ross the half-nude model to come in from the Harlequin cover shoot photographer. Yes, you read that right. That’s all I’m willing to give away right now and I know it’s sort of douche-y to give a build-up like this and not deliver, but you are just going to have to trust me on this one—it’s worth the wait.

This whole delayed gratification thing is something I am trying desperately to teach my children, but at ages 6, 9 and 11…no dice. I can be all, “You can have this here peanut butter M&M right now, BUT! If you wanted to wait until tomorrow morning, you can have whole bags of M&Ms, in every kind, including the coconut ones that we thought we wouldn’t like but really ended up being delicious.” And guess which option all three of them go for? The single M&M. I shake my head and kind of laugh to myself—I could offer them the moon, and they’d still take the single M&M because it’s OHMIGODIWANTITNOW. And, of course, I get it. I do. And if you have ever been with me inside of an anthropologie or a Henry’s Camera or, well, if we are being honest, any grocery store in the history of ever, I want everything now. Also, I have been known to stay up until the wee hours of the morning (night?) (morning?) because I simply lack the skills it takes to WAIT until later. Also, cookies rarely make it into actual, baked cookies.

Mensa candidates, we are not.

Also, I’m thinking that Sting would be really disappointed.

My kids would totally never ever pass that stupid marshmallow experiment. I would totally pass it, by the by, because someone once told me that marshmallows are made with, like, animal parts. Or something. So, I am kind of anti-marshmallows—most of the time. I am so not strongly convicted in my convictions to be able to never eat marshmallows. (I mean, have you ever had a S’more?)

It’s funny, that.

Once upon a time, my oldest daughter decided that she wanted to be a vegetarian. She made it an entire week. And then we hit Friday night—the night we eat a Shabbat meal together. And the meal includes wonderful Jewish delicacies, including chicken soup. And then Emily just sort of lost it. “I’M OUT!” she exclaimed, and proceeded to eat four bowls of said soup. Everybody has a price. My price would not be chicken soup. I realize I should probably have my Jew card taken away from me, but, if we are being honest, I cannot eat chicken soup. I make it every single week, but while I am doing so, all I can think is “Hey! You know what chicken soup really is? DIRTY WATER.” As I watch a pot of water mixed with boiling chicken parts and vegetables turn into a pot of soup, I can’t help but try to tame my gag reflex.

I have always had a somewhat like/hate relationship with meat, and at a pre-teen, I dabbled in the art of vegetarianism and spent several years eating not much more than cheese and peanut butter. On my pediatrician’s request, I started adding meats back into my diet. But here’s the thing—I don’t even *like* meat. And here’s another thing—the ick factor with meat is HIGH. Anyone who has ever had to cut up a whole raw chicken knows about that smell, that texture. I am particular about the meat I will eat—it has to not resemble an animal of any kind. Flattened, battered and fried? Good. Still attached to bones? NOT good.

But they say that everyone has a price, right?

Well, for some reason, I will eat chicken wings.

I don’t even know either.

So, I guess I fancy myself a FLEXITARIAN.

I eat marshmallows, when it suits me just fine. I eat meat, when it suits me just fine.

But you can sure as heck know that I would choose to wait until tomorrow to have the bags of M&Ms instead of just the wee single M&M.

Because I may be, somewhat confused about delayed gratification and about vegetarianism.

But one thing I am most definitely not confused about? M&Ms.

Also, in case you are also a little confused about delayed gratification, I’ll give you a little sneak peak:

Don’t say I never give you anything.

UPDATE!!! Now you don’t have to wait…which kind of makes my whole post pointless, but I’m okay with it. GO HERE! Now!