Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Rutabagas.


My son pissed me off today. Our car has been out of commission and we won't be getting something else till next week. I only live 1/2 mile from the store so a short walk is all it takes to go get something at the moment. Bad part about all this is it decided to be frickin' FREEZING all of a sudden.

So tonight, after HHH gets back, he and I hoof it to the store to pick up some groceries. HHH tells Jr. we'll bring him something special back. So we get our groceries, head back. I remembered that Jr had asked for candy canes for the Christmas tree and Christmas Cap'n Crunch the last time we were at the store. So we get back and Jr is all "What did you bring me?" and I pull out the Christmas crunch. He looks disappointed. So I pull out the candy canes..... he looks even more upset. He wanted candy. Never mind his mom walked half a mile in 40 degree weather, and remembered exactly what he had asked for over 10 days ago.... nooooooo. Screw that! I kind of went nuts and yelled something to the effect of, "You no good ingrates can get your own damn crap next time!" and stomped off. Yeah... not my best moment. It reminded me of the story of the rutabaga.

From the time I could remember, my mother made me rutabagas at every special meal. Rutabagas are these root vegetables that are basically nasty. My mother swore to every one and any one I loved rutabagas. She made them for me every holiday, birthday, and special occasion without fail. I can't stand rutabagas. They taste awful. I ate a huge helping of them every time.

Why?

Because sometimes you want people to know they mean something to you, even if what they're doing is the furthest from what you'd like. My mother, who thought I loved rutabagas, would search out the best of the batch at the store. She would peel the thing, cube it, and soak it for a couple of hours in sugar sweetened water so it wouldn't be as bitter. hen she would cook it for a few more hours till the cubed rutabaga was soft enough to eat. It took her about a day to do this. All for me.

HHH asked me, when I imparted this story to him, why I didn't tell her the truth. I said, you don't take someones gesture of love and shit on it. I need to teach this to my kids. I kind of felt shit on tonight, but I will chalk it up to the kid being 8. Then I thought about all the ways people shit on each other when they should be grateful for what's being given to them. I hope I can impart this to my children. Hopefully Jr. learned it tonight.

Rutabagas.
We all got 'em.

What's yours?

5 comments:

Putz said...

my wife had a beatiful red coat , i think a christmas present and got to close to a heeater in it and burned a hole in it<><><>her dad and mom said nothing to her which was unusaual because he was a drunk and had a temper, but she didn't need punishment for that hole in her coat was punishment enough and they seemed to understand that

Poppy said...

Your store had Christmas CRUNCH?! BUY ME A BOX! BUY ME A BOX!

Megan said...

You know what? I don't know. I'd have to think about it.

And it is the age. They are just generally selfish and ungrateful (we're wired that way). They have to learn differently. Keep teaching and he'll get it. It's a process.

Anonymous said...

Rutabagas make my sister cough. Or so she told my parents when she was eight years old.

BEBA!

Bubblewench said...

My mom & I have a similar thing.. only with ham.