What defines me?

Cancer , A Dozen Kids , Life, Struggle

By the third morning I woke feeling refreshed. Whatever had hit me the night before be it the lime or just the Ruby Tuesday’s I had eaten it had now passed and I was feeling far better. That morning while deciding what I wanted to cook I thought of the things I hold onto in memory. The positives I’ve taken from relationships that may not necessarily been positive in the grand scheme.

Those memories for me tend to have to do with food. They are all I pass on to the kids as no one wants to share the negative they hold with the ones they love, right? When it comes to Grandma Dee it’s her omelet’s I found comfort in. She would blend her whites until they just fluffed folding in the yellows. It saved her a great deal of money and something she had learned to do from her grandma.

It’s literally how I make omelets on every occasion. For the kids and I it’s become a absolute favorite. At the cabin there was in blender to make Grandma Dee style omelets and it felt so sad. Instead I went from the Pebble Wood style.

Pebble Wood is the country club my parents had their wedding reception. I was only 13 at the time and it was the moment I realized I wouldn’t worry about my Mom anymore. As Rik had the means to take care of her. I thought the place was so “rich and fancy” it was surely where I had to have my wedding reception too. I was convinced back then I would. Since I was very poor. Getting a job there would give me an in and I thought certainly if the owner loved me she would one day let me work my reception off or something of that nature. So I became the omelet station girl there for awhile.

That’s the style I would make at the cabin that third am. Thinking back to my Mom and Step Dad’s big day. Most of those memories that day being positive for me. It was quite nice to look at the sunrise thinking back and making those tasty omelet treats.

I have memories with my dad of these meatballs. He taught me to make them and I swear I could have had them every day. Now paytyn is the same with them. He doesn’t eat spaghetti at all but will surely pick out all of papa’s meatballs and scarf a whole plate down in mere minutes.

My mom and I well I don’t have tons of memories that I recall of us cooking together. But those garlic cheddar biscuits. Those were all her forte. Seems so simple but she taught me to put that cheese in with the dry ingredients before adding the wet and it’s far easier to stir. All the holidays those were present.

My grandma Betty who flat out just plain can’t cook. She taught me that those little holiday sugar cookies. You know the ones that have the different things like a snow man or a Christmas tree. Pumpkin or a witches hat at Halloween time but just plain circles you pop in the oven nothing fancy. She taught me that those were best when cooked two mins less then the box instructed and then left on the hot pan for the last two mins on top the stove. She had to work really hard to learn this sand not burn them black I swear. Grandma Betty’s sugar cookies are by far Aaden and Clare’s favorite to eat.

For grandma Jim of course it’s the gravy. I can make his sausage gravy with my eyes closed. In fact that is what I made for us this morning. Except I made scratch made buttermilk biscuits and he always let grandma make canned biscuits that she burned the bottoms black to and we would always just eat the tops. Food for me is the positive I can find in all the relationships that may cause me pain.

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