That's the dessert?

I could always tell when it got to the end of the month. The one hundred pound gunny sack of potatoes we bought each month would be sitting nearly empty. The only spuds left were a few wrinkled ones that had these long snake looking things growing out of them. I hate snakes and I hate old spuds. Ma had used every one she could. It was time for her to get creative. Lucky us. We would be called to the table and all seven of us would come running. The aroma in the air smelled delicious! We all wondered what Ma had cooked up tonight...

Our plates each received a plop of food. Great. It was macaroni. I hated macaroni. Especially when we were out of hamburger. Then it was macaroni with tomato sauce. One time we were sitting there when Ma brought out the dessert. Into each little cup went a scoop of stewed tomatoes. For dessert? I would have rather eaten a crap sandwich. You didn't dare complain though or away it went. And even if you didn't eat, you still had to help with the dishes. One time, one of us complained that another had got a little more ice cream than the other. Ma fixed that real quick. She took all the bowls and emptied them down the sink."There" she said. "Now you all have the same.." I liked the ice cream and had wished she didn't do that. But I hated stewed tomatoes. If we were thinking at all, we should have griped about the tomatoes for dessert...Away they would have went! To this day, macaroni is not on my list of things to eat. It reminds me of the end of the month.

I look back now and see how tough it must have been to feed all those kids and keep everybody happy and I feel sorry for my folks, but stewed tomatoes are still to this day off limits in my home.

She used to get us on the milk too. When things were getting a little low in the paper carton of the white stuff, Ma would mix in a little Carnation instant. I could smell it from a mile away. Try some of that on your Wheaties once and see how you like it...The tell-tale sign was that there was always some powder left around the top of the carton. I hate powdered milk.

Joe