It Runs in the Family

I remember them well-family dinners.
As a child, we spent almost every dinner eating together. Somewhere late in the afternoon my mom would escape away to the kitchen and away from my brother & I's fighting to begin making dinner. She would work away, each night creating another one of a kind 1980's classic- a casserole. The very word used to make us shudder, simultaneously put on the yucky face, and become instant best friends in hopes she would change her plans for dinner. "What's in it, mom? What's that?" We'd then sit down for dinner and what seemed like hours later my brother and I would be alone at the table: 1 more bite for him and 2 more bites for me. We had mastered the strategically placed napkin & the spread the food around the plate technique. Those bites weren't going anywhere, but into our mouths.

At that point, we'd give anything to be washing the dishes with my mom or watching the Raider's with my dad, anything but facing the insurmountable challenge of "more bites." I would be the annoying little sister, saying annoying things, and my brother would be flicking boogers at me from across the table. We'd be doing anything but getting down the quota of casserole bites.

Looking to be the first one done, I could have my glass of water ready, pinch my nose, and get it down, water chasing that classic casserole veggie/soggy bread mixture down. My brother on the other hand, as competitive as he was, had trouble in this, the casserole finishing, category. He couldn't do it. After his nose was empty of boogers, his sister had left him alone at the table, & dessert was nowhere on the horizon, he would sit and stew over that fine plate of meal masterpiece. Anguish covering his face. "Come on Matt!"... "You can do it!" I would half-taunt, half-encourage. It's not that bad!"..."I did it!" (nail to an older brother's heart). I remember one night, he brought his plate over to the counter in hopes to finish it there. That night the culprit was zucchini. All he had was one more bite of zucchini fancied up in something of the neutral color palette. He lifted the fork, put it in his mouth, and then he gagged! I can still hear and envision it perfectly to this day.
He gagged right into the open dishwasher.

(my brother & I then)

~Fast forward 25 years~

I was in a pseudo emergency situation today. I had a sleeping Gwenyth on me, Titus was napping in his new spot-the middle of the living room floor, and Nehemiah was crying nearby with a dirty diaper. Addie was parked on the sofa catching up on some much needed cartoons (we are catching up b/c last week was National Turn Off the TV Week-whoever thought of that idea?!). Anywho, I called out to Addie to please attempt to relieve Nehemiah of the diaper b/c one movement from me and everyone would wake up. She proudly rose to the big sister Call of Duty. Here's how it unfolded: Got Nehemiah out of the bouncer safely...check. Unsnapped the onsie...check. New diaper ready...check. Wipes ready for action...check. Opened dirty diaper...check. Then came the surprise all all surprises. Massive gagging...CHECK!! I couldn't believe it. Sure she has gagged before. She's gagged several times on my pride & joy new millennial casseroles, but a dirty diaper? She's seen & smelled 100's of these with no adverse effects. I did not see this coming. Was she faking it? Maybe I didn't see it correctly?! "Try again, real fast Addie," I encouraged her. Nope, the gagging/dry heaving started again. By this time his foot is trudging through his own poop & is starting to smear up his leg. Are you kidding me? "Addie are you sure you can't wipe it just a little?" She bravely goes for a third try. No go. More gagging. "Stop, stop, please stop...don't worry about it Addie." Because nothing makes me gag, nothing at all, except other people's gag.
The thought of cleaning poop & gag just about sent me threw the roof (sleeping twin on me and all)!
You see gagging on the sight, smell, or taste of mushing things runs in the family.
Keep the torch aflame Addie.


The Gaggers, aka Uncle Matt & Addie,
on a better day.

Emma's Proud Moment #2:
cleaning Nehemiah's dirty diaper.


FYI My mom is an amazing cook. I just had the taste palette of a nincum-poop. I would take one of her 80's casseroles any day, over one of my present day, finely prepared, dinner concoctions. Nowadays, my kids give me the same yucky face, the same questions about the origin of the meal and I get similar results...but I know better than to throw purely visible zucchini at them. :)
I don't do gagging and that's just what I'll get.
Thanks mom for all the hard work. Now I can truly appreciate your pain.