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Good day, my friends! Goodness, it has been a long time, hasn't it?
Captain asked me this morning if I had decided to quit writing, and no, I haven't. I just wasn't feeling the writing vibe, and I didn't want to just put words on paper for the sake of putting words on paper. I think that would be a disservice to you and me.
Anyway, the other night Captain, Gammy, and I were discussing how different gender roles are now versus when our parents and grandparents were alive.
Being a spoiled wife whose husband does all the grocery shopping, most of the cooking, and most of the laundry, I can relate to those men from past generations who just expected that stuff was going to be done for them.
My dad was a classic example of this. He was a hard worker, kind, generous, and funny. But he was helpless and hopeless in the house.
Mom and Dad would come in from chores--at the same time, mind you; mom didn't get to go to the house earlier than Dad--and Mom would start supper.
I don't know about your house as a kid, but in my house we had meat, potatoes, and vegetables for supper. Also in my house, it was breakfast, dinner, and supper not breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
But I digress.
Anyway, Mom would peel potatoes and put them on the stove to boil. Then she would work on preparing the main dish. She was probably also doing dishes, vacuuming or sweeping the floor, and organizing the day's mail and bills.
My dad, you ask? Dad was sitting at the table drinking a beer, smoking a cigarette, and looking at cow magazines.
More than once a week at some point his head would come up from his reading and he would say, "Max, the potatoes are burning." Mom would assure him that the potatoes were just fine.
Image found at https://me.me/my-cooking-is-fabulous-even-the-smoke-alarm-is-cheering
A minute later he would again bark, "Max! The potatoes are burning!"
This was the point where the smoke alarm would start going off and the stench of burnt potatoes would permeate the first floor of our big four-square farmhouse.
This is common knowledge, so I'm not really airing any dirty laundry here. And I am not putting it out there for God and country now to make fun of my Mom. She did the best she could.
I'm going to do something I rarely do. I'm going to rake my Dad over the coals. Anyone who knows me knows that this is not my go-to reaction.
What the heck was wrong with Dad that instead of barking at Mom--who had been outside working just as long and hard as he did--he didn't just get up off his spoiled little butt and either (1) turn the burner off or (2) add water to the pan to stop the scorching?
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| Image from www.memebase.com |
I don't know the answer, and it's been a puzzler my whole life.
I miss my dad every day and regret that he was so young when he died. But then I think, if Mom had passed before Dad, I would have had a world of care giving on my hands.
Dad did not know how to operate: a washing machine, a dryer, a microwave, a stove/oven, or a dishwasher. I'm not kidding even a little bit.
I remember as a kid if Mom had a day of errands to do in Rochester and was going to be gone during dinner--remember, that's the midday meal--she would get a frozen TV dinner out, put it in the oven, and set the oven to start and stop so that it was ready for dad to eat at noon-ish. Seriously!
I'm sorry. If I am gone during any meal time, I don't give it two thoughts because Captain is a competent adult who can either feed himself or go hungry. And the reverse is also true, to be fair.
Does anyone else remember when grocery stores would run months-long specials where for every set dollar amount you spent on groceries would earn you money or reward points toward the purchase of something.
The one I remember is a set of dishes that Hy-Vee had going on back in the day. Mom and Dad shopped often enough and spent enough money that they were able to redeem money or points or whatever for two four-piece settings, one in blue (Dad's favorite color) and one in an orange-ish color (Mom's favorite color).
Here is the epitome of how spoiled my dad was. He would refuse...and I mean flat out REFUSE...to eat off of one of those orange colored plates. If it wasn't blue, he wasn't eating until he got a blue plate.
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| https://www.babycenter.com/toddler/feeding/feeding-problems-refusing-to-eat_9203 |
Are you freaking kidding me?! No, I am not kidding. Not one little bit.
Again, don't get me wrong. I adored my Dad and there was very little he could do that I would find fault with. This stuff...drove me nuts.
They always say that a girl marries someone like her daddy. This is true to a point. Captain is kind, generous, hard working, and funny. But he wouldn't even begin to think of being so spoiled as Dad was.
So, go me....I got all the best qualities and none of the yucky ones!
