Maia, my dear, you have driven me to eat...

A consummate egoist (i.e. denier), I shall admit to only one great fault (I am sure many minor ones will come out later). I am an emotional eater.  I liken being a stay at home eater mom, to being tethered to someone who, at age 4, has mastered pressing your emotional buttons.  For sanity's sake, I need an outlet. Mine just happens to be savory, gluttonous food.
Today for instance, after Maia's dentist appointment, I agreed to Wendy's for lunch. As I sat in the drive-thru line, I reminded myself how delicious Wendy's salads are. And then Maia started singing, "I have 4,4 cavities, won't my Daddy be so mad at me... (to the tune of Baby Bumblebee)" And I began to think about how mad Geoff would be: at me.  As my emotional meter started rising, so did my desire for French Fries. It was just a slippery slope from there.
Drive-thrus are essential to me. I have tried, disastrously, eating at pseudo-healthy fast food restaurants without drive-thrus.  Here is a typical journey:

• Step One: Muster the energy to unstrap your child from the one thing that has successfully kept her in one place. 
• Step Two: Keep her entertained in line (preferably without getting Baker Acted). Why did we chose Panera at noon? 
• Step Three: Order food while ignoring her screams for cookies. 
• Step Four (most often where disaster strikes): Carry the food/drinks to the seat of Maia's choosing. You know, the one most difficult to reach.  

This stymies most able-bodied moms, so why do I attempt it? Quite simply, I don't. 
But alas, my emotional eating is complicating my overall well-being. As my joints would make an eighty year old cringe, I shouldn't gain weight.
But to that I say, what's the point of living in the south, if you can't enjoy the fixins'?