(From 2004)
Mamacita says: Remember that anecdote about the young bride whose husband asked her why she cut the beef roast in half before she put it in the pan?
She told him she did it that way, because her mother always did it that way.
So the young husband asked his mother-in-law why she had always cut the beef roast in half before she put it in the pan. Her reply? She did it that way because HER mother had always done it that way.
At the next family dinner, the husband asked his wife’s grandmother why she had always cut the beef roast in half before putting it in the pan. Her reply? Because her mother had always done it that way.
His wife’s great-grandmother was still alive, so he went to the nursing home and asked her why she always cut the beef roast in half before putting it in the pan. Her reply?
“I only had the one small pan, and the only way a roast would fit in it was if it was first cut into two pieces.”
When my children visit, I often think of this story. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but it might as well be, because so many of the things we do make no sense except in the context of the past.
First of all, both of my children love grilled cheese sandwiches. I mean, who doesn’t? Secondly, neither of my children will touch a grilled cheese sandwich unless it was made with Velveeta.
Thirdly, and most importantly, I can grant these wishes because A. I won’t eat a grilled cheese sandwich unless it was made with Velveeta, either, and B. Velveeta is a name brand food I can actually AFFORD!
When my son comes down to visit, usually on a weekend, the minute he enters the house, he requests grilled cheese sandwiches. When he was a little boy, the only way he could eat a grilled cheese sandwich was if I mashed it down flat with the spatula after the Velveeta had melted. THEN his little mouth could close around it, and he could eat the sandwich “like a man.”
He is a grown man now, but he still wants his grilled cheese flattened with the spatula. 
Because that’s how his mother always made them, the mother being me, and the flattening of the grilled cheese because it was the only way he could fit it into his tiny little mouth.
If he gets married, I can’t wait to hear about his wife’s reaction when he asks her to mash a perfectly good sandwich flat. Will she question it, or just do it?
Sometimes, family traditions have serious beginnings and funny middles. As for the endings, there aren’t any, not really.
Mamacita says: There are many poets whose works I love, although of course NOBODY loves everything that anyone does. You may apply that philosophy to every aspect of life. You’re welcome.
Another time we’ll take the Muses’ names apart and connect them to a lot of modern things. Or, you could do that yourself; it’s easy enough.
Mamacita says: This coming week is Midterm Week, and while I know for a fact that every single solitary thing mentioned even in passing on this test has been thoroughly covered, I also know that this is the first college midterm for most of my students and they are frightened.
generally picked on to the degree that he decided enough was enough and took the advice of a self-help book. The boy began to take on jobs too big for his strength, and to confront bullies too big for him to fight, and found success in both. “You can do it, Duffy Moon!” became his mantra and it worked.
Students, don’t worry about pieces of paper. No piece of paper will ever be as important, let alone more important, than YOU are. You can do this. You can do this well.
Mamacita says: I have empty nest syndrome and I am not dealing with it very well.
They would be doing all these things without me. You know, just as I do things without my mom.
suction their noses any more, but sometimes they call and meet you for lunch. Or just call and tell you how their day has gone. Sometimes they call to make sure you’re doing ok. That one will make you feel old, but that wasn’t their intent. Sometimes they give you presents that aren’t boogers or peanut butter-covered hands. They are courteous to waiters and kind to each other. They have good relationships with co-workers and are respected at their places of employment. They HAVE places of employment. You find out that all those lectures about manners and respect and patience, etc, are being put to good use. Sometimes you find out that your children are a lot nicer than you are.
P.P.S. I love it when they come home for a long visit. I love doing their laundry. I never minded laundry; I loved handling their jeans and shirts and even their underwear. I love it now, too. I love folding their sheets and thinking of them sleeping on clean, good-smelling linens. I love folding their clean towels. I love cooking for them. I love it that they love it when I cook for them. I love the opposite of peace and quiet that is my life when my children are here. And when they leave to go to their respective homes that are no longer THIS home, it’s even quieter than it was before they arrived.
Mamacita says: I know that there are some teachers out there who feel that they are, in some lofty intellectual way, somehow superior to the students they teach, and to most of their students’ parents, for that matter..
my desks, but most of the time, the monsters were elsewhere in the building. Or in the administration building. Or the bus. Or sitting in a home within busing distance of the building, feeling discriminated against or put-upon in some way.
teachers who still show no empathy towards a parent’s work schedule, or a family’s limited budget. Those teachers, however much they might know about grammar or calculus or WW2 or computer technology or kineseology or the standardized testing policies of Outer Mongolian yak breeders, are not good teachers.
had just graduated from high school with a full four-year scholarship. All her things were packed for college. All I had ever known was factory work, but after she died, I went back and got my GED for her. And now that the factory’s closed down, I’ve got the time to go to college for her.”