What is more difficult to deliver in a plausible way than to say “I love you” to your partner? Right, to say “Mom, I am not hungry!” when you are visiting your parents. This is a sentence moms are not able to parse. It seems like parental ears close automatically then. The acoustic waves wave around the head instead of waving into motherly ears.

I am living about 500km away from my home region and hence I’ll hit my mom’s place every now and then, every two or three months in average. It feels good to be home then and my mom is happy as well. Hence she is trying to provide my a nice time, as mom’s usually do. This is nice and I appreciate it a lot, but mom’s way is primarily food based. It starts in the morning, the breakfast table is full with food. Kind of “Mom, how many people are coming for breakfast today?” full. I stop after one or two bred rolls, which triggers the question: “Why don’t you eat?”, followed by the request: “Please have this and that and you need to try that here too.” It’s yummy, but I am stuffed already. And we are playing the same game for lunch. Mom knows what I like and prepares exactly those things. I like it a lot and hence I eat a lot. So my weakness for some special dishes makes it worse. Damn, this stuff is good.

After some time I am able to move again, to find a table full with cake and cookies. I love cake and cookies and one or too are always possible. That is awesome, but keeps my filling degree on a nice high level. Unfortunately I am allergic against cookies and cake, especially my hips. They swell in such a case. But a “Come on, one more piece, you became so thin” from my mom melts my resistance.

Dinner exactly the same. Why coming up with one meal, if my mom can present two or three in parallel, just in case I would like to have more. Already one of them would fill me up completely, but hey, I might be hungry. I was not. But at least I had the remaining strength to roll from the kitchen to the couch in the living room to blob myself there. My belly tries to imitate a football and my mom stacks chocolate at the table next to me. Did I mention that I like chocolate?

A few days at my moms house require several months of sports to get back to my previous fitness level. I don’t blame my mom, it’s my cake addiction combined with my weakness to resists my most favorite dishes. But I am working on that. Mom, I love you! 😉