Bon Appétit

The Rubber Band Story? O.K. fine!

You know those odd cravings that a woman can have while pregnant (yes, I realize this eliminates roughly 50% of those reading)? Well, with my fourth and final pregnancy, I ate well, slept well, and took my delicious prenatal vitamins. So, I wasn't lacking in minerals, calcium, or any other strange vitamin/mineral need induced by the presence of another human being growing in a woman's uterus.

It started innocently enough. Our mailbox was about 100 yards from the house, and part of my daily ritual was to put children down for an afternoon rest and walk up to retrieve the mail. Our carrier would frequently place all the letters inside the daily newspaper, fold it over, and rubber band it. Something snapped in me one day as I reached into the box and pulled out the small bundle. As I walked back through the stiff and dying grass, I began to push the rubber band back and forth with my index finger. I found myself salivating at the thought of chewing on it; the rubber band, not my index finger. I slipped the band off, and popped it into my mouth, chewing furiously. I don't know why, nor do I want to, but I was immediately hooked.

I began to see them everywhere:carelessly dropped on the floors of dressing rooms and airports; thoughtlessly thrown on the dashboards of cars; placed neatly in little cups on the desks of administrative assistants; and almost everyday, in my mailbox, waiting for me. When in church on Wednesday evenings, I would make my way quickly into the office and help myself to the choicest ones hidden in a box in the supply cabinet.

It wasn't long before my secret addiction became known. I would be found chewing something and politely asked for a piece of gum. When it was revealed that I was not, in fact, chewing gum, I would receive a strange look. But when R asked little A one day what she was chewing and it was found to be a rubber band, and when asked why she had such a disgusting thing in her mouth, and she said "Mommy chews them everyday. The mailwoman brings them to her," they were declared contraband. Not only was I restrained from my small, inexpensive daily- hourly- delight, but he employed my best friend to assist his policing efforts. "Special K" was appalled and disgusted, but not so much that she wouldn't point one out, peaking from under a clothing rack, just to watch me squirm. R would, in mock Middle Eastern accent, proclaim "Put dee waste into dee vat of rubber for the stupid Amereecans. We will poison dem from within." When he attended a prenatal visit, he vigorously questioned the safety of rubber band chewing for the health of our unborn child. When the OB couldn't point to anything specifically, but thought it was, in general, not a healthy practice, R felt vindicated and supported. (Although, I am sure my file is marked in some secret way revealing my shameful habit).

Several months and a very strange labor later, K came out with five fingers on each hand, and all ten toes. She is practically perfect in every way and demonstrates a very high intelligence.

Must have been the rubber bands.