This was back when I got the good stuff---baby food, of course.
When I was young, one of the things that I didn't like about life was taking time to eat. Now don't get me wrong! I loved desserts, which we usually only had on Sundays, and to this day, I absolutely love popcorn, which we had almost every night growing up. (And I will admit it, I still crave popcorn every night.)
But, you see, I always had so many adventures, and in the summer, when it was time to go into the house and eat, I felt hungry, but a bit annoyed. My Mom was a great cook, but liked to try out new foods, so it wasn't always going to be something that we enjoyed eating.
I didn't look like I was suffering from lack of food....
There was one time that my Mom decided that we were going to have something new with our hot dogs. I still remember going into the house---still excited by the play that we had left, but then coming abruptly to a halt, as an unfamiliar smell hit my nose. It was an odor that smelled up the whole house. It had a sharp tangy-ness to it, a bit like vinegar smells, but with a touch of old mixed in.
I remember thinking to myself, "Ohhh no, this smell is just like that awful smell when Mom fixes those nasty brussel sprouts!" Oh, how I hated everything about brussel sprouts. The smell, the look, and especially the texture----like small rubber balls, slightly cooked to cut down on the squeak......dreadful.
So, as I went to the bathroom to dutifully clean my hands and face, I was dragging my heels just a bit. I knew that the second that I sat up to that stool----as we ate at a bar, since there wasn't room for a table----that I was doomed. Doomed to have to partake of something that I wouldn't want or like and would have to spend the rest of the evening trying to choke it down.
Here is the bar area where we ate our meals.
You see, it was the rule in our house that you ate EVERYTHING that was put on your plate or you didn't get down from the table! I can remember many an evening sitting by myself, as I tried to eat peas. or some strange concoction that tasted like what I imagined throw-up would taste like. Awful.
I could sit for hours and even have the dinner for breakfast the next morning, as we often had to do, if we wouldn't eat it. You know, go right to bed and then Mom heated it up the next morning. Uh huh---thats what we did.
But this was the big one.
This was the one that almost broke me.
So, as I sidled up to the table/bar, and glanced at my sister to see if she had noticed that this was going to be a night that was hugely significant in our lives, she didn't even seem to be fazed. She was like that, my perfect sister. She just did as she was told and seemed to go on merrily with her life. I dealt in traumas.
Well, it was worse than I expected. My Mom told us that she was trying something new. She has gotten some sauerkraut to go with our hot dogs, or something like that. I don't really remember what she said. I was too horrified by the smells and the squiggly strange greenish-yellow mass that was occupying the side of my plate.
We said prayers and started to eat.
Ok, so I tried it. Just a bite, about as big as a drip of liquid. I COULDN'T take any more.
My sister told me to plug my nose. I tried. (Whoever came up with that idea is crazy---it doesn't work!)
She suggested that I close my eyes AND plug my nose. I just couldn't do it. It DIDN'T help!
I was doomed. My evening was over. I was NOT going to eat this.
My Mom, Dad and sister ate their food----or in my sisters case----choked down her food.
I was stuck. I wouldn't do it. They could torture me and I wouldn't eat it! (Ok, so how could they torture me any more than they were?)
I tried whining, cajoling, begging, crying----but nothing worked.
I went to bed that night without any food. I got up the next morning and sat in front of my saurkraut for most of the day. I don't know when my Mom decided to finally end the torture. I believe that I ate a small portion of it. Its where my memory stops.
And here I am sitting by myself---probably not wanting to eat!
I blocked it out, huh? Too traumatic, right?
I do remember that there was another can of saurkraut. My mother saw how badly I hated it and decided that it was a good way to keep me in line. You know, "Get your chores done, or I WILL bring out that saurkraut!" "If you leave the yard and don't tell me, I'm going to have to get out the saurkraut." "Why did you make such a mess? Clean it up or I am going to give you some saurkraut."
I was TERRIFIED of that can of saurkraut for years!
I often wonder what happened to it..... In my mind I seem to remember my Mom opening it years later, and it was filled with worms. (Though I can't figure out how worms could get into it.) She had to throw it away. And she never bought another one. Ever.
I secretly think that my parents thought that it was disgusting also, and thats why we never ate it again.
Who knows? After all, I was young and now I'm a bit afraid to ask them.
I don't want to give them any ideas.