The Sanctity of Reese’s
I am getting married in three days, but today? Today I am searching for the world’s largest Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup , preferably one shaped like a heart. It will be the strangest wedding gift for the strangest wedding to the strangest man I’ve ever met. I’m also strange. It all makes perfect sense if I take you back to our beginning.
“I just don’t understand why you love those so much,” I say to him. He scrapes the foil from another Reese’s and pops the candy into his mouth. He nods to let me know a response is on its way. I wait another three minutes while he works the gooey peanut butter from his gums. Still sucking remnants of Reese’s from his teeth, he shrugs his shoulders and says, “I just do”. I’m a little disappointed that I waited so long for such an explanation. We’ve only been dating a few weeks, and I take this as another lesson learned about this strange, new man. I add “simple” to the mental roster on which I’m tracking his noticeable traits. It goes behind “older” and “funny” and “might be stalking Tiger Woods” but before “Sela Ward fetish” and “fan of purple business shirts”. For the sake of playing fair, I offer him one of my most noticeable traits and start questioning the godforsaken life out of what should be a very easy topic. “But why chocolate and peanut butter? Why not chocolate and berries? Chocolate and bananas? Chocolate and more chocolate?,” I press him. Without batting an eye, he responds “Why bacon and eggs?,” and I am left stunned to silence by his quick thinking. He is speechless, too. His mouth newly cemented with the chocolate and peanut butter anomaly.
Time passes. There are more dates, more notes taken of one another, more Reese’s wrappers scattered around us at any given moment than I care to count. For his birthday I adorn his beloved Reese’s Cups with a flashy bow. For Christmas his stocking overfloweth with the bite-size miniature cups. Glory unto Reese’s in the highest! Easter hops along and with it a bunny- shaped Reese’s gifted with love from me to him. I put my pride aside and grow to enjoy the sweet treat I had so harshly questioned. Before long, Days That End In Y, 1:00, and Just Because become impromptu holidays in dire need of some Reese’s celebration. Soon we share a home, and in that home there is a kitchen, and in that kitchen there is a bowl who never fails to hold the glorious orange-clothed candies. I try to find peanut butter scented perfume to further woo this man I am starting to love. I settle with dabbing my neck and wrists with the real deal. I don’t mind the chocolate stains my sleeves are gathering because, in the end, I do seduce him. I also put a little peanut buttery love spell on every stray dog in middle Tennessee as well as a few incredibly touchy homeless folks. Everybody loves a snack, I learn. I just love being in love.
What good is a love without a lovechild? As he sliced his teeth past chocolate and into that expected peanut butter surprise, I offered up a little surprise of my own. He was speechless again, though this time it was hard to tell.Is it the scientific impossibility of speaking while consuming generous portions of Reese’s or the mathematical certainty that I was pregnant? Reese’s, girl, you ain’t the only one with a full belly.
Nine months and twenty-three
pregnancy pounds of peanut butter cups later, a son enters this world. We can not understand this sudden love, this rapid obsession with a strange little ball of human we just met. Then again, we still can’t think put into words why we so treasure the bundle of joy that is a King Size pack of Reese’s Cups. So we chalk it up to divine mystery. We nestle a newborn close to chest (while cradling a Reese’s cup so warmly beneath the tongue).
One night I rock a raging, wild baby in the wee hours of When All Things Should Be Asleep. I snatched a bottle from the fridge, a Reese’s from the bowl, and sit nourishing mother and child into submission. To the tune of love, I channel Nat King Cole. A pasty white, red-eyed, sleep-deprived, and snack-happy Nat King Cole: ” ‘R’ is for the way you ruined my boobs. ‘E’ is for every time I’ve said ‘Ew’ while changing your pee. ‘E’ is for… um closing your eyes. S is for ser-i-ous-ly, sleep right now. ‘E’ is. Seriously, Word? Like you needed another ‘E’?”. The baby sleeps soundly. From my singing or his twenty straight hours awake, I can’t be certain.
Seasons pass and soon I am cleaning up red and green tinsel while the man of the house breaks down the Christmas tree. The smaller man of the house plays with his favorite gift, an empty shoe box. Distracted by the mess, I notice some time later that I’ve let the toddler out of my sight. He has a hankering for chasing cars and nose-diving off of furniture. I rush about the house anticipating the sounds of bodily injury and mass destruction. I find him. He’s found his father’s stocking hidden greedily away from the rest of us. He has a hankering for scaling walls and Reese’s peanut butter cups, I see. Tiny, rabid kid fangs have chomped straight through the foil wrappers. His innocent face is stained with criminal evidence of Christmas candy hijacked. We are all speechless: the father from the devastating loss of a giant bag of Reese’s, the mother from awe and wonder at a young boy’s ninja-like candy-snatching skills, and the son, well, from the inability to break the peanut butter-y glue sticking his tongue to his face.
We plan a wedding, finally ready to say in front of everyone what we already know. We’ve chosen each other. I sit down to write my vows as the baby naps. At a loss for words, I scribble down the only thing that is honest: “I just don’t understand why you love me so much.” And I remember those first notes I took about him. And I remember questioning the goodness that is Reese’s. And I remember all these scenes of a life we’ve built together shining like the golden foil of Reese’s. And it is fitting that this life of ours is marked in memories of Reese’s, chocolate and peanut butter, rich and sweet, worth the fat. Some years and some love and some lovechild, a happy path of Reese’s wrappers leads me to understanding that there is no real answer. There is no explanation how life can be so sweet it leaves you speechless. There is no good reason such a quirky combination should marry in such perfect harmony. There is no sense to it. ” I just do,” I remember him saying, and I am so glad he just does.
On this historic day, otherwise known as Wednesday, 19 of your favorite humor bloggers are staging a WordPress coup. We have banded together to discuss the important topic, Better Living Through Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.We are all presenting the same topic, each from his or her particularly unique perspective.
Why this topic? Why now?
Since when have any of these blogging fools made sense? Simple answer: Because it’s fun, and ridiculous, and fun.
Click below to check out other Reese’s Pieces & gobble up the entire, yummy bag of 19 posts.