Tag Archives: childhood

Flashback: Malt-o-meal

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I’m a grown woman. With children of my own.
Isn’t it funny how our childhood messes with the way we raise our own children. Even in little ways.
Case in point…

I don’t like oatmeal, or malt-o-meal. It’s a throwback to childhood. And, as an adult hasn’t ever been something I think about.
But, my son made himself a bowl of coco-wheats.
You know the kind.
Like chocolate malt-o-meal. It really is delicious. I just don’t make it.

At the store he says…
“Mom, why don’t you make Coco-Wheats? You know we like them.”
I have to tell him that it’s because of lame reasons and he can get a box and make them…himself.

Fast forward to the next morning…
He follows the directions on the box and makes himself a bowl of Coco-Wheats. But ignores the part about stirring. Doesn’t stir, just dumps everything in and leaves.

“Ewwww….it’s lumpy, and gross.” Piles of uncooked wheats lump together in the bowl. It’s not nice. At all.

THERE IT IS…
the memory.

My 10 year old son gets to experience in a small way my mornings as a child where we had some version of the dump and don’t stir malt-o-meal.
And now I know exactly what it was my mom did wrong.
She didn’t stir. At all. Ever. Never. Not. One. Single. Day.

Oh the horrors. And the joy of my child getting a similar experience.

 

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sibling1

At some point I will be able to write about the last few weeks.
Right now, my brain is spinning. Although, I recognize my family brings drama and crazy in mass amounts I am still shocked again and again at the new records that are set in the drama department.

For now, let me tell you a story…

One upon a time there were many small children living in a small home.
These small children weren’t allowed to watch television.
But…they heard of the legend of Letterman.
They heard that when the children were put away for the night…the adults were able to turn on the beloved t.v. and watch this legend.

So, they devised a plan and put it in practice for much of the remainder of their childhood in that home…

1. the children went to bed nicely. no whining, no complaining, no stalling.

2. when their parents came to check on them…they pretended to be asleep. they learned the art of drooling, deep breathing, and dead limbs. one of the siblings became a master at hanging their arm over the top bunk as if it were dead weight. worked every time. he was a hero.

3. when their parents settled into the couch and turned on the t.v., it was time…

4. the siblings quietly crept down stairs, around the corner and behind the couch.

5. they sat on the dining room chairs (which were behind the couch) and the 10, 8, 6, and 5 year olds became Letterman fans.

Were they ever found out? Sometimes they were heard creeping down the stairs. But, one sibling always acted as if it was just them…a lone rogue child. Better to sacrifice a single sometimes then the whole forever. But, getting to the dining room meant you were home free. If the parents acted like they were getting up…we just quietly went through the kitchen and back up the stairs.

So, if you were to peek into our home on a weeknight at say…11pm… you might see a living room with a couple adults on the couch oblivious to the 4 children silently watching behind them. Maybe you could sneak them some popcorn? That would be lovely, thank you.

 

Hidden Stashes

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Our mother often tried to hide things from us growing up.  We don’t know why she thought that would work; I mean, there’s eleven of us!  Surely SOMEONE would be able to locate the hidden stashes.  And we always did (although I don’t know if she ever realized that).  The most popular things she would stash:

1) M&Ms:  Our mother is a sucker for M&Ms.  I don’t blame her, who isn’t?  But she would hide bags of them in her underwear drawer.  I think this is a reasonable hiding location–it takes a lot of courage to dig around in there–but she often made the mistake of letting us know when she had a fresh supply.  Her favorite thing to do while watching TV is to put a bag of M&Ms in the cushions next to her and “sneak” a few every so often.

She actually believed she was being stealthy…

But it’s kinda easy to figure out what’s going on when she’s chewing on something and every so often reaches into the cushions.  And refuses to let you see what’s in the cushions.

2) Romance Novels:  And not the “I’m-mostly-a-mystery-or-drama-or-chick-flick-but-have-a-few-overly-explicit-scenes” kind of romance novels.  Oh, no.  She has a constant stash of the bodice rippers.  The ones with the sweaty, shirtless men on the covers dipping a sultry woman wearing a little silky slip.  Those ones.  I don’t even want to speculate about why she has that addiction.  Yucky.  She also hides these in her underwear drawer; that makes more sense to me than the M&Ms.

3) Anything needed to make the TV work.  Yes, this one’s a bit more obscure.  I don’t completely understand it, but whenever she isn’t going to be around to enjoy whatever’s being shown on TV, she tries very hard to make sure no one else can watch TV.  Maybe she’s afraid of missing out.  Or thinks we’ll watch porn.  Or thinks of the TV as her “special someone” and doesn’t appreciate sharing.  Whatever her reasons, she tries to very subtly hide a chord, remote, or something similar before she leaves the house.  When she gets back she acts suprised that the TV wasn’t working.  She stashes her TV stuff in her underwear drawer, or sometimes in the blankets.

Speakin’ in Code

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It wasn’t until a few years ago that I realized most children don’t have code phrases they use when describing their parents, especially as teenagers.  I guess it might be a little weird…

But our code phrases saved our butts more than a few times growing up.

The most useful phrase (usually shouted) : THE PASTA’S IN THE PAN!!! THE PASTA’S IN THE PAN!!!

Our mother = the pasta

Our house = the pan

Yep, whenever one of us heard our mom pulling into the driveway (it was long), we would yell this phrase out repeatedly at the top of our lungs.  Once or twice our mom heard part of the code, but she had no idea what it meant.  But we did; it meant stop what you are doing and go pretend you’ve been spending the last four hours being productive.

Did you ever have codes growing up?  Maybe for teachers, or other people you didn’t like so much?

A marble and a vaccuum.

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Flashback…memory

Coming home from…science class?…to find sibling #6 with a vaccuum up to his nose.
Why? Well, that’s what I wanted to know. Here’s the story….

Sibling 7 stuck a marble up his nose. Why? don’t know. That’s a question that he for sure needs to answer. But, he is male and under 10…I guess it’s to be expected.

Every means of removing the marble was attempted.
Ways such as…tongs, vaseline, blowing the nose, and more.
Nothing worked.

So…the mother tried the vaccuum.

That’s where sibling#1 enters and walks in to sibling #7 with a vaccuum attached to his nose and a deer in the headlights look.

Of course this wasn’t working.

“Ummm…maybe take him to the doctor?”.

Yes, they do that. With the vaccuum on battery and brought with the WHOLE WAY.
Poor kid had to have that to his nose the whole trip.

I giggle every time I remember walking into the house that day!