The Nutritional Journey with Mom
August 2024 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
When I was a kid, back in the late 1960s and early 1970s, Mom made sure we had three square meals a day. Nothing fancy. We didn’t’ have money to spend on exotic delicacies or eating out. There wasn’t an overabundance of anything, including necessities. If you would have told me people would one day be taking pictures of their dinner and sharing the photos with friends and family, I would have said you were crazy. Here we are though, walking around with computers sitting in the palm of our hand. Notification dings let us know when there might be something interesting to see, like someone’s dinner plate.
Mom maintained a regimented meal routine for our family, back in the day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were at certain times and if you missed it, there was no reheating a plate of food in the microwave. Microwave ovens didn’t hit the kitchen scene until I was a teenager. Being on time was worth the effort. Mom was an awesome cook. She learned that from her mom, and I learned to cook from her and Grandma.
Mom doesn’t cook much anymore. Cooking skills are one of those use-it-or-lose-it things. She doesn’t remember many recipes or cooking techniques. Her freezer holds a lot of frozen dinners and soup cans line the cupboard shelf. I’m a lot like Mom in many ways, including cooking habits like the ones from when we were both younger. I wonder if I’ll lose the desire to cook for myself when I’m 80 years old. Probably. For now, I’m still regimented and enjoy experimenting with recipes.
After my usual lunchtime one day in mid-July, I went to visit Mom. She hadn’t eaten lunch yet, so I told her to go ahead and fix herself something. She rattled off a few different things she could have but couldn’t seem to land on anything. She often tells me nothing tastes good anymore or that she just isn’t hungry. She’s lost some weight. Not enough that she needs to buy new clothes, but that day is coming.
“There’s a chocolate pudding cup in the fridge. I suppose I could have that.” She said more to herself than me.
“That’s not really lunch so much as dessert, don’t you think?” I gently offered.
“Oh, I don’t know. Is it?” She shot a sheepish, sideways look in my direction.
