Whensday

I was telling my kids a story about my own childhood the other day, and it had my husband in stitches.  I’m not sure why, but for what it’s worth, here’s the story.

When I was a kid, I was a pretty picky eater.  Oh, who am I kidding?  I still AM a picky eater!  Although I’m not nearly as bad as I was as a kid.  Anyway, in addition to my being a picky eater, my mother was a horrible cook.  She did criminal things to food, I kid you not.  How much of her bad cooking contributed to me being a picky eater, one will never know.

One time, I must have been around 10 or 11, she made something for my dinner that – best as I can recall, was either mushrooms or Brussels sprouts.  It was round and slimy, I remember that, and I would not eat it.  It looked weird, it smelled awful, and it was slimy.  No way.  Would. Not. Eat.

I can be a stubborn girl when I have a mind to.

My mother yelled at me, threatened me, all kinds of things she told me would happen if I didn’t eat the science experiment reject in front of me.  Eventually she picked up a piece of whatever it was off my plate and tried to shove it in my mouth.

Oh no, we are so not going there!  I clasped my hand over my mouth as an extra barrier of protection.  This was a battle of epic proportions!

My mother, in her rage and frustration, leaned over and bit my hand, the hand covering my mouth.  She bit me!  I remember screaming, and I had a set of lungs on me too, it’s a wonder the neighbors on the other side of the wall didn’t call the police. 

At this point in the story, Darc busted up laughing.  I mean to tell you, he almost had tears running down his face, and that’s quite a feat of accomplishment for me!  Usually I’m the one splitting a gut at his stories.

“Why are you laughing?” I asked him.  “My knuckles were bloody and had teeth marks and everything!”

I try to remember that my beloved is a writer of horror fiction so things often strike him in a way they don’t other people. 

“Oh my gosh,” he replied, “‘Eat or be eaten!’  That’s just priceless.”

I guess it does have sort of a vampire quality to it.  Eat or be eaten.  Who knows?  Maybe I’ll make it into one of his stories yet!  Smile

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Categories: Memories, Personal, Whensday | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

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One thought on “Whensday

  1. This story gave me a bit of a rage. My mom was also one for making dinner out of crap and forcing us to eat extra if we didn’t act like we loved it. If we acted like we loved it, we got to eat it at least once a week. “But you said you liked it.” I’ve never understood wasting the effort of cooking something kids won’t like and then getting your panties in a twist when they won’t eat it. Make what they like and call it good.

    You know, it gave me a bit of a rage too, in remembering it! It’s pretty appalling, isn’t it? Sheesh.

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