It doesn’t take much for my mind to start wandering and wondering why we do the things we do.
Case in point: I was making spaghetti the other night and as I was dropping the pasta into the boiling water, this thought popped into my brain – my mother used to break the spaghetti in half before she put it into the pot. I’m not sure why. She never explained. It was just something she did. Did she learn it from her mother, my grandmother? Someone else?
I did the same…until I met my husband. One of the first meals I made for him when we were still dating was spaghetti. He asked me why I broke the pasta in half. I had no explanation except that it was what my mother had always done.
There were a lot of little things my mother did as I was growing up. Some of them I still do. Some, like the pasta, I don’t. Saturday mornings? Reserved for cleaning and laundry, because that’s how it was done in my house.
The other big thing? My mother made Cream of Wheat with lumps…until I became an adult and made my own, I had no idea that Cream of Wheat could be had without lumps, but that was always how she made it. Years later, when I made her some with no lumps, she refused to eat it. Wasn’t right, she said. It had to have lumps and there was no convincing her otherwise (yes, I made another batch with lumps…she was happy so it was worth it).
I guess it comes down to “you don’t know what you don’t know” and “that’s the way it’s always been done” (which, we know, doesn’t make it right).
What were some things your mother did that you still do? What don’t you do?
Until next time, remember to spread kindness wherever you go.