Still carrying this on. I think this has officially become a thing.
1. I don’t consider myself a picky eater, but I used to be. I’m still not thrilled about the idea of consuming anything that ever dwelled in the sea or some things that are dairy-based, particularly cheeses of any sort, but I will try them. It may take me a while to psyche myself up for it, but I will. I draw the line at veal, though. I refuse to eat baby cows … and mayonnaise. No, thank you.
2. When I was very young — four or five, I think — my mom made tuna noodle casserole. I hated it so much that I made myself throw up at the dinner table. Details are still unclear, but I think I may have thrown up on my helping of casserole. My mom never made tuna noodle casserole again. I’m not sorry it happened (or that Casa A never ate tuna noodle casserole again), but I am sorry I did that and that it ruined tuna noodle casserole for my mom. This is a testament to how much my mama loves me and how much she has put up with from me over the years. I’m not gonna lie, though: I think it’s awesome that I won that battle and am still winning, seventeen or eighteen years later.
3. I say that my mama has put up with a lot from me, but there are very few moments in my childhood that I look back on and find regrettable. I’m sure I had a few temper tantrums. I’m sure my siblings and I had many fights. (My sister and I got into a knock down, drag out fight that had to be broken up by my brother when I was, like, thirteen. She won.) I’m sure I needed a major attitude adjustment from eleven to fifteen, but I think you’d be hard pressed to find a teenage girl who didn’t. All in all, though, I was a pretty good kid, which bodes well for my future children, I think. I can handle a handful of temper tantrums, some sibling smackdowns, and a little sassiness. Actual acting out? Not so much. Maybe a counseling degree wouldn’t be a bad idea after all.
