Dropped Eggs on Toast

I had a craving last night for dropped eggs on toast....this was after I had earlier attempted grilled mushrooms over filet mignon. Both of these were meals my mother made for me when she came up to help me out during the worst of my disease onset. I take after my mother in a variety of ways, but one that stands out is our dislike for cooking. What I can't figure out is why the same dishes a self-proclaimed kitchen disaster made so easily are barely edible when I try them.....

One of the common themes of my childhood was the fridge posting FFY (Fend For Yourself), which was my mother's way of telling us she would not be making dinner. When I was in grammar school I spent years being impressed by the initiative of the other kids in making their lunches - I couldn't figure out how they were self-disciplined enough to get up early to make such tasty lunches. It wasn't until I was in high school that I discovered that it was actually their moms making those lunches!

I know for a fact that there are many out there that would consider this poor parenting....what 'good' parent doesn't take feeding their kids healthy meals as a priority??

Mine.

I can remember running into some difficulty with a 4th grade teacher in school - this man was wacko! A couple of years after I had left his class he was convicted of molesting children. I, fortunately, never had these difficulties but I firmly believe it was because my parents raised me to believe that just because someone was older didn't mean they were right. I never hesitated to fight back if I felt I was unfairly treated, because I knew my parents would back me. One day I had a blow-out with this teacher over his treatment of another child in my class and stormed down to the principal's office demanding to see my parents. I don't remember all the details, but I vividly remember my father walking into the office and flipping out when I burst into tears and ran to him. As far as he was concerned, he didn't need the details - he wanted to know what the teacher had done wrong. No questions for me - just 'where is that damned teacher'....or something to that effect. My hero!

I used to swear I would only bear a child if you could guarantee me it would be a boy. I remember what I put my parents through during the 'hormonal years' and couldn't imagine going through that again, even second -hand. My father used to approach me the way most would a ticking time-bomb....you never knew when I would go off! My mother and I would have some knock-down, drag-out fights and during one such fight I remember her saying "you are being such a little bitch!". Ever eloquent in my teens, I replied "well, if I'm a little bitch YOU'RE a BIG bitch!". She paused, then informed me that she would give me that one, since she started it, but that was the last. I remember feeling as though I had dodged the bullet. LOL

As an adult, I consider my mother my best friend. We talk to each other, on average, once or twice a day. She assures me that we (my brothers and I) were all worth it - the economically strained years, the hormonal years, the "I hate yous", the temper tantrums.....you get the idea.

When does it all end? I think parents like mine should be elected to sainthood. My brothers and I are all grown, now, and on our own....and yet, not. When my nephew was diagnosed with a rare genetic condition, my parents were there to offer support, physical and emotional. My sister-in-law is a terror when it comes to her kids - just try asking any school who has not lived up to their responsibilities when it came to my nephew's special needs. When I was diagnosed with my rare disease, my mother took several trips from Texas to Washington to take care of me. Dropped Eggs on Toast....the woman who HATES to cook must have made this dish 20 times in those weeks.

I am sure that there are rewards, but I am equally sure that there are innumerable sacrifices. I wish more people would consider those sacrifices before having their own children, as there are too many who discover they aren't willing to make them too late. Every child deserves parents like mine.

I was, and am, a lucky kid. Perhaps someday, I can be that parent......