Tuesday, June 1, 2010

A Memoir in Memory of Memoir Mondays, with Kudos to Thea for her Inspirational Post...

Yeah, I know, the title itself is enough of a novel without the post... But here goes, *deep breath*.

I was MIA for a few weeks as well you know, sunk into the quagmire of sadness and nursing a severely wounded spirit. And so I missed a couple of the infamous Memoir Mondays. Imagine my sadness when upon my return I read this post of Trav's on his aptly named  I Like to Fish... blog.

Now, whilst I understand the reasoning I am one who truly hopes this is a mere skuttlebucket in the Travisphere and that he hurries on back to us blog buds.

But in my own little world as I am, I am holding a Memoir Monday all on my lonesome. If you wish to add to this pseudo blog hop, feel free to leave link in a comment and I'll add ya at the bottom of this post. All you need do to join is:
Grab the button from Trav:

Do your memoir and link it here, it has to be a true tale, and either add a comment on Trav's Blog to let him know, or tell me to do it. Just so he knows we care...

Now, on with my tale... and the story behind the second half of the title.

In my google reader today, up pops a post from the lovely Thea at Do I really Wanna Blog? Now, this a subject near and dear to my heart, as not only do I have two terribly fussy eaters, but I myself was one such creature in my childhood (and even a little now as a all growd-up).

All those wonderful little jibes sounded so familiar, all those "Ooh, what do they eat then?"
comments we endured, not to mention the nasty holier than thou attitude of those "Oh, my kids will eat anything I tell them to" pariahs.

I choose my battles, and as long as they eat, and eat reasonably healthily MOST of the time I sure as hell don't stress over diet.

This brings me to my Memoir Monday Memory...

As I mentioned my children in their finicky fussiness taker after moi. However I grew up in a household where by hell, you ate what was put in front of you or else you will sit there until did! No, not Wise Woman, but Grumblebum imposing his formidible will upon his picky, stubborn daughter. Did I mention how much I take after him in lots of ways?

So, there we'd sit. Glaring at each other. Until I got smart. Learnt to always wear a top or coat with deep pockets, made sure I did a toilet run mid-meal (with masses of food buried deep in my stretched cheeks), brought the family pet in under the dining room table (though that little bugger hated most of the same things I did - bar lamb's fry... very grateful for his appetite for lamb's fry), ducked into adjoining lounge room on a quick ruse..

Wise Woman often remarks that she was still finding food stuffed down the back of the lounge decades later.

Did it change my eating habits? No. It wasn't until I was much older and moved away that my tastes expanded. But I grew up, as will my boys. I don't sweat the small stuff, as long as they eat reasonably healthily most of the time, then I am happy. I tell you though, the smell of fried lamb's fry still makes me dry retch.

And next time my darling sister-in-law makes snide jibes about my kids "And what on earth do they eat?" when they refuse her jam drenched cheese dip, I'll sweetly remind her of the times she bought McDonalds on the way to our place for a meal, when I had already checked and organised their favourite foods... How short memories can be.

See Thea, you are not alone in the kitchen as the short order cook (though I personally prefer to be called Queen), in fact I doubt there would be elbow room!

Schnitzel anyone?



Madmother said...

PS. I do know it is Tuesday, but because of the time difference Trav's post always fell on a Tues morning.

Oh, and feel free to comment even if not joining...

Jen said...

Ah see I am one of the pains in the arses sitting here thinking..my kids will eat anything and then I really thought about it and realised that they probably wont eat just anything. I was also a fussy child (and still a little as an adult) and so the things that I cook are not all that varied. And I do tend to rotate the same menus over and over. hmm. And although my boy will eat most of the dinners put infront of him he will only eat them with his fingers *sigh* no knife and fork for him! (despite asking every meal time he just forgets)...I have yet to try soup with him, I dread trying soup with him :p .

Epskee said...

Mine eats anything...whats your problem woman? Are you not as fantastically awesome as meeeeee???

Oh the battles that were waged at my parents house over peas...... for you did not leave the table without clearin your plate. Whatever you took, you HAD to eat. Nevermind that I never took peas, that they were always placed on my plate because they were "good for you", nevermind that I happily ate vegies most kids abhor like brocoli and brussel sprouts, pumpkin and choko.... Many a long night was sent at the table with me eventually eating cold peas for breakfast.

To this day I cant stand them. My son eats them though. He eats everything......

Travis said...

I appreciate you trying to resurrect a dinosaur here. I'm going to eventually get back in the swing of things, but by then no one will want to play! Thank you though, I'll try hard to get one up next Monday.

That's what he said.

Yep. Still got it.

Kim Thompson said...

In my youth, we had to clean our plates as well. I was a hider and a dumper. I'd stuff the armchair full of meats and secretly pour vile things behind another chair in the corner. Of course having a dog helped. I hated eating meat of any kind so it was particularly difficult as I was in a house of carnivores.

Oh, check out this glorious meal we had in the late seventies. Dad got a deep fryer. He loved it! So our entire meal with fried. It was typcially: deep fried oysters, deep fried zucchini, deep fried cheese bits, deep fried potato wedges. How healthy!

Katie said...

My son has a BIG problem eating anything that is not:
likely to induce a diabetic coma.

Mother of the year, here.

Lisa said...

I was about 10, and we were in a holiday house somewhere, when Pea and Ham Soup was served...(ominous music).
Dad and I had a 'you're not leaving the table until it's eaten' stand-off.
No idea how long it lasted, but we all wanted to get to the beach, and couldn't until I finished my lunch.
I sat. He sat. The cold soup sat untouched.
Dad cracked first. "Eat the soup or I'll throw it in your face."
I stood against the wall, he threw the soup (not the bowl) at me.
I wiped bits of pea and ham from my ears and nose, and we all happily traipsed off to the beach.

He never tried a stand-off again, and I never ate peas again.

Thea said...

I am so glad I inspired you!!! :)

And I am SO glad it's not just me. What was that generation of parents thinking making kids eat everything on their plates. I still have memories of my brother swallowing peas like pills with his glass of cordial...yes cordial! He didn't have to drink water but he had to eat peas! What the?

Wanderlust said...

Hey schnitzel, I have an award for you at my blog.