I Will NEVER Do That!

Being a parent has shown me a different side of my own childhood. Things I thought I would never do, say or think are now commonplace. This entry is a collection of just some of the things from my childhood, that I see creeping into my daily routine with Pfunk.

I distinctly remember my dad and younger sister taking part in something I could only describe at the time as vile when we would go on long-ish car trips. My dad would get a big red juicy apple and eat it in the car. He would also bite off big chunks and offer them to my sisters and me. I, of course, never...EVER took him up on his offerings. It was already in his mouth with his tooth funk* all over it. Ick. This really should come as no surprise to most of you. My sister Lynsey, the same one mentioned here, OF COURSE took him up on the offer and would even ask for another bite after she finished the one she had. I would be sitting next to her in the back seat, dry heaving because I was just so grossed out by their absurd behavior.

Just yesterday, I was eating an apple in the car. Pman can say, "apple?" (always with the question mark). Want to guess what I did? Bit off a huge chunk and without the slightest hesitation gave it to him.

My mom is a nurse and when we were growing up she worked a couple night shifts during the week- smart lady- there were 4 kids in our house! On these nights my dad was in charge of dinner. He only really ever made one dinner- over and over. Flank steak- burn it, baked potato (sometimes sweet potato) and broccoli. Once in a blue mood he would throw chicken into the mix.
About 10 minutes before dinner, the noises in our house consisted of the clanging of silverware as an 8 year old me and a 2 year old Lynsey tried to set the table. My brother taking on drink orders (usually milk).  If we were having chicken, my sister- Megan- was in charge of white verse dark meat distribution. I'm not sure if a typical 8 year old knows the difference between white and dark meat on a chicken. I did. White meant you would need a little something to dip it in.

I think the need to dip is an inherited gene. Also, since I consumed mass amounts of broccoli in my childhood I think I have a broccoli gene too and Pmonkey got it. That boy will choose broccoli over just about anything- except cake.  Now, if I can only get him to take my drink order...

When I was in college...and well anytime post-Pman, I would also judge the mommies in the grocery store with the screaming baby. (I regret that now.)  I believe I would even come home from the store and say the following words- out loud, "If I'm ever at the grocery store and my baby starts crying, I'm just going to leave. I don't even care if my cart is full." I also said something to the effect that I would not bring snacks to the grocery store because a kid should be able to make it through a shopping trip without a snack. Childhood obesity is a problem in the U.S. 'yall.  I also had strong feelings against opening food stuffs in the middle of the store- E Gad! Oh naive, childless, single Nikki.

Now, I gleefully open anything, right in the middle of the store, that will keep P's mouth occupied and generally not screaming. When the snacks do not work and the wailing starts up I say, "Let it out kiddo. I have had months of practice drowning out your drone, and I'm quite good at it." Sorry fellow shoppers, I need to buy this tot some nuggets and ketchup or there will be a mutiny at my house.

Finally, when I was a tot myself, I liked my ponytails to be high on my head and very tight. My dad used to accomplish this by having me flip my head upside down and would then twisted something resembling a hair tie around my hanging locks. I also liked my shoes to be tied very tight- in my adult years I'm aware of how odd this is and I do not blame my parents. While Parker does not wear ponytails at this juncture in life, he does where shoes. Recently, I bought him a pair of tennis shoes that tie. The other day I was helping him put his shoes on and as I was tying them Psizzle reached down to his foot made a hurty face, whined and wiggled his foot.

*It should be noted my dad does not have funky teeth. At that time in my life, I was just being...well, let's call it difficult.