Balance. We’re trying to find it.
And in all the official terminology overload and medication schedules that require a college degree, I’ve realized that the whole point of all of this… is lost if we don’t LIVE each day.
So this week, I wanted to rerun one of my favorite childhood tales from Mr. Daddy’s family. Remember, you can’tbe excused until you’ve cleaned your plate :)
The Clean Plate Club
While reading Julie's Letter Of Intent last Friday, what she said about eating everything on your plate, and all the comments that followed sparked an ancient memory.
What she said about the Clean Plate Club, which we will refer to as the CPC for the rest of this story, is not how I remember it from my youth.
Now we must remember that my youth was a couple of decades ago. Wellllllllllll maybe a few more than a couple, but not many.
(Rach In: Honey, you are just TEMPTING PamD now, aren't ya?)
Now my parents being old school, as in being raised in the era of the Great Depression, had cause to be a fan of the CPC. In fact, the stories that they tell it is pretty much a given that you were just plain old thankful to have anything on your plate at all at times....
The purpose of my saying this is not to debate any theological, or social, or moral issues about whether or not you should or should not make your child eat all on their plate or not.
(Rach In: Haha, that was just to try to avoid the wrath of Julie...)
I am not qualified to say that if you make them eat everything they will be obese. Or if you let them leave whatever they want to they will be unthankful...
It is just plain fact that when I was growing up, if it was put on your plate, you ate it... Now in their defense it was always nutritional and balanced meals, with all the food groups represented in tasty and appealing ways (think Leave it to Beaver here and you will get the picture).
(Rach in: Sorry, I am having fits of giggles about that Leave It To Beaver thing... his mom IRONS their jeans, and uses bleach in the carwash soap. I am such an unfit housekeeper next to this family :)
The proportions were never huge unless we wanted more, and God help us if our eyes were bigger than our stomachs. Cause if you didn't finish it for dinner it would probably be served cold for breakfast....
Don't judge them, they are the best parents that I could of ever asked for. They raised three of their own and a hatful of other people's children to adulthood, and for the most part we are all pretty much normal.... normal (twitch) normal (twitch) normal (twitch, twitch)
Another thing I remember was you didn't talk back or sass, and you ALWAYS respected your elders, always....
R.E.S.P.E.C.T. was ALWAYS enforced.

Well we were having oysters for dinner, fried. Now I know that you can have them on the half shell, you can have them sauteed, you can have them grilled, or in soup... My Dad liked them fried. Dip them in flour and seasoning salt and fry them puppies to a golden brown and they are just nummy, now....Back then....Not so much...
If you are to get adventuresome and cut them open (like I did back then) you will even find a little nugget of green seaweed like stuff in the middle that will just gross you out.
Just saying......
So there I was bout an hour and a half past the time every one else had been excused from the table. Pushing my little pieces of oyster around on my plate, and eyeing that little green morsel of goop that was lurking on the edge of my plate...
(Rach In: OhMyLord, every one of us has been there, right?)
Now I'm guessing that my Dad had had just about enough of my postponing the inevitable.... And was going to assert his parental legislative authority, with full enforcement rights. And as the child protective services was just a gleam in some politician’s mind.. I am thinking with no restraints....

So the conversation was probably something like this...
YOU WILL EAT THAT RIGHT NOW...
but dad it doesn't taste good.
YES IT DOES, IT IS ONE OF MY FAVORITES.
but dad it is cold.
AND WHO'S FAULT IS THAT???
but da---
EAT IT RIGHT NOW AND THAT IS FINAL...
Now I know that I am pushing the envelope here. My Dad is one of the nicest people I know now.
Back then a very strict disciplinarian...
dad it's gross
IF I TELL YOU ONE MORE TIME I WILL BLISTER YOUR BUTT AND YOU WILL HAVE IT FOR BREAKFAST.
I was pushed past the limits of my 6-year old restraint. Throwing caution to the wind and daring the wrath of my Father. I sat up straight, crossed my arms and with the most petulant bravado that I could muster, I firmly stated....
IF YOU LIKE POOP, YOU EAT IT.
staring straight ahead I awaited the full fury of my Dad....
Nothing....
I waited some more......
still nothing....
I dared a sideways peek,
no movement at all, just a ramrod stiff stance with a far away look on his face.
another peek.
just a slight twitching of his jaw...
"O" lord I was in for it now.
A little longer glance, A twitch with a slight upturning at the corner of his mouth...
I was outright gawking at him now; and to my amazement he was snickering, which quickly turned to a belly laugh...
And that my friends, is the only time in my youth that I can recall dodging the CPC.
~
(Rach In: Aaaaand the irony: we have a 3-year old who would eat nothing but strawberries and peanut butter all day every day if we let him. No oyster poop for this kid).
~
Loved it just as much as the first time I heard it. And unfortunately I’ve been the recipient of that now-infamous quote many a time as I brought a home-cooked meal to the table, “If you like poop, YOU eat it…” *sigh*
True Story Tuesdays are all about those honest-to-goodness tales that get told every holiday – those family legends that just won’t die. Got any? We’d love to come around for some comment love! Link ‘em up below and we’ll be by!