As I was cooking supper tonight I started thinking about a time when my kids were young and money was super tight. I know... money is always tight but at this particular moment in time we had been abandoned in Kansas by my ex-husband. I was attending a community college as well as working as a tutor and a chemistry assistant and doing third shift at a convenience store. I dropped the third shift job the day after I fell asleep and ran into a ditch on the way home to change clothes so I could get back to my 8:00 class. I didn't think dying would help much.
Hubby passes the fancy grocery store in Mars Hill that caters to the professors from the college on his way home from work. They have much better food at that store than here in this podunk town we live in. Every now and again he picks something up and that's how we treat ourselves. I cook better than any local restaurant so our night out is something special cooked in. I searched my favorite recipe site and decided to fix sea scallops with burgundy wine sauce. Making your mouth water, eh? It should. The stuff was delicious. Anyway... I was standing at the stove reducing the wine and cream when I started thinking about the time one of my friends made me (and I do mean MADE me) go to social services for food stamps. I had never had food stamps and it really bothered me to have to ask for them. I don't harbor harsh feelings toward anyone who gets them. It's just that I had never had to get them and it made me feel like a total loser. I'm sort of independent and I've always believed I should take care of myself and my children. To have to get food stamps meant I was a failure as a mother, as a provider, as a role model... the list goes on. I was face down in the mud and worthless.
I was given just a bit over $200 worth of stamps for a month. That was a small fortune in grocery money to me. I went to the 24 hour grocery so I could shop at 2:00 in the morning and hopefully not be seen by anyone I knew. It had been over a year since I had been able to really shop for food. We lived on the bare necessities. I purchased a whole chicken and the next day all I could think about was that chicken. When I got home from the day's classes I rubbed the chicken with butter and salt and put it in the oven. After a while the aroma began to permeate the house. My children and I migrated toward the oven and stood there with our mouths watering waiting for that damn chicken to brown. Nobody said a word. We just stood there inhaling. Eventually we started laughing about it but in my heart it didn't feel funny at all. That's when I realized just how fucking hungry we all were. The chicken never did get properly browned because we couldn't wait any longer. It was the first proper meal we had eaten in months. Veggies and everything. I remember that meal like I ate it yesterday.
I look back at the times when I was doing the best I could but it was hard on us. I think about all the times I feel like I failed my kids no matter how hard I tried not to. I also think back on the times when I wasn't doing my best and needed a kick in the ass. Not much I can do about any of it now. My children have grown into wonderful people and I love them. I adore them. I explain their goodness by saying they grew up good not because of me but in spite of me. They are loving, caring, hard working people who make me proud. And they love me. I don't know why but they do. Someday I would like to do one thing to deserve it.
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