I thought I'd write about a typical day during the week at our house. It's funny, but the list of our daily activities, from the time we started school through high school graduation, contains very little change year after year, house after house. We all did almost exactly the same thing each day. Obviously there were seasonable adjustments, but our lives had a rhythm that was generally predictable.
Dad was ALWAYS the first one to wake up. You could define the phrase "early bird" by watching my Dad. He was always showered, shaved and dressed no later than 7:00 a.m. even on Saturdays. When Dad was home (on weekends), he'd let us sleep to a reasonable time, then he'd start calling "Up-and-at-em," standing at each bedroom door. He never really had any trouble getting us to wake up (at least until we hit high-school age). But even when Dad was home during the week, he'd usually be off to work before we woke up.
We were responsible for getting ourselves dressed and ready for school - including getting our own breakfast. Mom was always awake, but she usually stayed in bed because she spent a lot of nights being pregnant, recovering from delivery or was up during the night feeding babies or nursing sick kids. Mom's role in our mornings was mostly as referee because that's when we tended to squabble the most.
A recurring morning fight was over "who gets the glug-glug." To explain, we thought there was something special about how a new glass bottle of milk would say "glug-glug" on the first pour into our cereal or glass. And we would really fight to get it! I have no idea how it started, but I guess other families had the same problem because milk doesn't "glug-glug" anymore.
We each had an imitation leather (plastic) book bag that looked like a little briefcase. It was up to us to make sure our books & supplies, including homework, was packed up and ready to go. We also needed to assemble and take our lunch every day. And if we were going to Mass during school (every first Friday, holiday, holy day and during Advent and Lent) it was mandatory to remember our uniform beanie.
I don't think there ever a year that all of us school-aged kids went to the same school. The majority of the time we were in Catholic school, but there was no kindergarden, and once Barbie reached high school, that was also a different school. We were mostly scattered among three schools. So it was a nightmare for Mom if anyone missed their bus in the morning.
By 8:30, all the school-aged kids had climbed on their buses and were off to school. We'd arrive at school just early enough to feel the chilly mornings before the bell would ring and we'd line up with our class.
When the school day was complete (between 2:15 and 3:00 depending on what grade), we'd board the bus for the return trip home. We took our time walking home from the bus-stop because it was likely our last "outside time" for the day.
Mom was usually folding clothes and diapers or ironing when we got home. We were always told to change into play-clothes (we each had five white shirts for everyday, but our plaid uniform skirts or jumpers and navy blue pants for the boys needed to stay clean all week). We'd proceed to our rooms with our book bags, and sometimes we'd actually change.
We were usually hungary and needed a snack. Mom was not big on snacking, but we were allowed to have a piece of fruit or some crackers to hold us until dinnertime. In later years, we started eating cereal after school.
Next we were supposed to do our homework before we played or watched TV, and again, sometimes we did. But mostly there was other stuff we'd pursue, either alone or with a sibling. The one thing we didn't do after school was go outside and play with other kids in the neighborhood. I'm not sure why - my guess is that since Dad traveled so much, Mom felt better having all her little chicks in the nest.
At about 6:30, Mom would start dinner. There was always at least two jobs that were assigned to unlucky kids before dinner - making a salad and setting the table. And sometimes peeling and mashing potatoes. No matter what job you got, it seemed like you just did it the night before. But sometimes it was better to just do it - or dare I say, volunteer? Because that gave you immunity from doing the dishes after dinner.
Mom made the most delicious casseroles. Or we'd have meatloaf, fish sticks or sometimes for a treat, sloppy Joes. We had salad with every dinner. We always sat together at the table. And clean plates were required before we each drank a glass of milk and dinner was over.
After dinner, we went to our rooms to finish (or start?) homework or read until bedtime at 8:00. Except on Thursday night, when we'd watch The Donna Reed Show, followed by My Three Sons. (Thursday was always a good TV night. Over the years, shows like The Beverly Hillbillies, Gilligan's Island and The Flying Nun were aired on Thursday).
And then we went to bed. As we got older, bedtimes got later, but everything else hardly changed. Looking back now, it sounds incredibly dull, but I don't ever remember being bored. I guess I spent a lot of time plotting how to get the glug-glug the next morning.
What was the one thing you did, without fail, every day? Were there any recurring squabbles with your siblings that were routine? Leave a comment and let me know!
Showing posts with label dinner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dinner. Show all posts
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Friday, October 5, 2012
Food, Glorious Food!
In a big family, there is always LOTS of food, and my Mom & Dad were master meal planners. My Dad always did the grocery shopping. I don't think he particularly enjoyed this job, but it was the lesser of two evils, the second option being staying home with the kids. This task was accomplished once a week on Saturday and Dad would usually take one child with him as a "helper". I always loved going with him because he was a softy (with a sweet tooth to match) and could be talked into all sorts of forbidden goodies.
Breakfast was "on our own" during the week and was always cereal. We had "special breakfast" on Saturday mornings, made by Dad since he was an early riser and wasn't a fan of most cereal. We would help him stir batter for fluffy pancakes or waffles, or wait impatiently until a huge pot of oatmeal or cream of wheat (my favorite) was ready. We'd also make orange juice from a big frozen can of concentrate and three cans of water. Mom never had to worry about left-overs!
The magic of Sunday breakfast is a source of debate among my siblings. Since it was Sunday, Dad would go to Mass early and come home and start cooking bacon. He'd assign whoever was around (usually the kids who were up and dressed early enough to attend church with him) to start making toast, more orange juice and set the table. When all that was done (it takes awhile to cook a pound or two of bacon), Dad called everyone to the table as he made sunny side up eggs. We had a large free-standing skillet that he would bring to the table to serve from. So here's where the story gets fuzzy. As much as I loved these family times, as we all got older it became a war to get everyone up and to the table. My younger brothers and sisters still talk about being tired and hung over from the night before, only to be summoned downstairs to face greasy bacon and runny eggs. It got much worse when Dad discovered the health benefits of poached eggs on soggy toast.
The first year that five of us were enrolled in school (leaving two at home and Mom pregnant with number eight), my parents invested in a huge chest freezer that was kept stocked with meat, TV dinners and of course, our sandwiches for school lunch. After kindergarden, we were each enrolled in Catholic School as soon as there was room in our grade. Because the school was run by the church, no cafeteria was available so we all had to brown bag our lunch every day.
Before the school year started, my Mom and Dad would stock up on about a dozen loaves of bread and sandwich fixings. The kitchen table became the staging area where sandwiches were assembled, one or two loaves at a time. First was the standard PB&J. Each sandwich was made and expertly wrapped in waxed paper or later, waxed sandwich bags (if there were plastic sandwich bags, they must have been expensive, since I don't recall using them). Then the sandwiches were all loaded back into the bread wrapper marked with the contents and sent to their frozen home until needed.
Since mayonaise didn't freeze well, we learned to eat some interesting combinations such as bologna with ketchup and tuna salad made with mustard. It was our job each morning to grab a brown bag, go into the freezer and pack a frozen sandwich from the wealth of selections. There was always one loaf of sandwiches nobody would touch, such as my Mom's creation of cream cheese and olives (Yuk!). We'd add an apple, raisins or banana to the bag and that was lunch. The sandwich would thaw enough to eat by lunchtime. A carton of milk was provided at school, as long as we remembered to bring in our milk money at the start of every month.
At our house, if you knew what day it was, you'd know what the dinner menu was. Dad traveled and was rarely home during the week, so Monday thru Thursday we had casseroles or occasionally TV dinners (depending on how Mom was feeling that day). Friday night was always spaghetti, but never with meat. My Mom made an interesting tomato-Velveeta cheese sauce mixed with cooked spaghetti. Saturday night was always hot dogs and baked beans. Sunday dinner we'd all assemble in the Dining Room and have something that usually involved Mom cooking a roast or pork chops or Dad barbecuing steak. Or we would go out to a nice restaurant. It was a rare event when we strayed from this rotation.
Some things I never knew about until I grew up and moved to my own home include: butter and margarine are different things (we always used Imperial and called it butter), real spaghetti sauce has meat and no Velveeta cheese in it, and that there are families that actually have salt shakers on the table at every meal. Even when we had eggs or potatoes, there was never any salt added and fresh-ground pepper was the only option for enhancing flavor.
Breakfast was "on our own" during the week and was always cereal. We had "special breakfast" on Saturday mornings, made by Dad since he was an early riser and wasn't a fan of most cereal. We would help him stir batter for fluffy pancakes or waffles, or wait impatiently until a huge pot of oatmeal or cream of wheat (my favorite) was ready. We'd also make orange juice from a big frozen can of concentrate and three cans of water. Mom never had to worry about left-overs!
The magic of Sunday breakfast is a source of debate among my siblings. Since it was Sunday, Dad would go to Mass early and come home and start cooking bacon. He'd assign whoever was around (usually the kids who were up and dressed early enough to attend church with him) to start making toast, more orange juice and set the table. When all that was done (it takes awhile to cook a pound or two of bacon), Dad called everyone to the table as he made sunny side up eggs. We had a large free-standing skillet that he would bring to the table to serve from. So here's where the story gets fuzzy. As much as I loved these family times, as we all got older it became a war to get everyone up and to the table. My younger brothers and sisters still talk about being tired and hung over from the night before, only to be summoned downstairs to face greasy bacon and runny eggs. It got much worse when Dad discovered the health benefits of poached eggs on soggy toast.
The first year that five of us were enrolled in school (leaving two at home and Mom pregnant with number eight), my parents invested in a huge chest freezer that was kept stocked with meat, TV dinners and of course, our sandwiches for school lunch. After kindergarden, we were each enrolled in Catholic School as soon as there was room in our grade. Because the school was run by the church, no cafeteria was available so we all had to brown bag our lunch every day.
Before the school year started, my Mom and Dad would stock up on about a dozen loaves of bread and sandwich fixings. The kitchen table became the staging area where sandwiches were assembled, one or two loaves at a time. First was the standard PB&J. Each sandwich was made and expertly wrapped in waxed paper or later, waxed sandwich bags (if there were plastic sandwich bags, they must have been expensive, since I don't recall using them). Then the sandwiches were all loaded back into the bread wrapper marked with the contents and sent to their frozen home until needed.
Since mayonaise didn't freeze well, we learned to eat some interesting combinations such as bologna with ketchup and tuna salad made with mustard. It was our job each morning to grab a brown bag, go into the freezer and pack a frozen sandwich from the wealth of selections. There was always one loaf of sandwiches nobody would touch, such as my Mom's creation of cream cheese and olives (Yuk!). We'd add an apple, raisins or banana to the bag and that was lunch. The sandwich would thaw enough to eat by lunchtime. A carton of milk was provided at school, as long as we remembered to bring in our milk money at the start of every month.
At our house, if you knew what day it was, you'd know what the dinner menu was. Dad traveled and was rarely home during the week, so Monday thru Thursday we had casseroles or occasionally TV dinners (depending on how Mom was feeling that day). Friday night was always spaghetti, but never with meat. My Mom made an interesting tomato-Velveeta cheese sauce mixed with cooked spaghetti. Saturday night was always hot dogs and baked beans. Sunday dinner we'd all assemble in the Dining Room and have something that usually involved Mom cooking a roast or pork chops or Dad barbecuing steak. Or we would go out to a nice restaurant. It was a rare event when we strayed from this rotation.
Some things I never knew about until I grew up and moved to my own home include: butter and margarine are different things (we always used Imperial and called it butter), real spaghetti sauce has meat and no Velveeta cheese in it, and that there are families that actually have salt shakers on the table at every meal. Even when we had eggs or potatoes, there was never any salt added and fresh-ground pepper was the only option for enhancing flavor.
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