“It’s dinnertime!” Those are the famous words that my mom would yell from the kitchen to gather my dad, sister, and I to the table. Dinner was always one of the most agonizing times in my house due to my pickiness with food. My mom, the great woman that she is, would often cater to my tastes. (And no, I am not spoiled, she just loved me!)
I had a huge problem with the appearance of food. It had to be cooked according to my standards, which meant nothing less than perfection. For example, my eggs had to be scrambled without any white spots showing. Thus, my mom had to hide any imperfections visible to the naked eye. My mom was brave to try to sneak anything past me since I inspected every bite I have ever taken. However, I am sure she succeeded in her undercover missions of serving me scrambled eggs that were not up to par. It just goes to show that mother does know best.
Another meal that my mother had a difficult time preparing for me was spaghetti. Who doesn’t like spaghetti? As a little kid, I was not the biggest fan. I would only eat spaghetti if it was plain marinara sauce, no meat! I did not like the chunkiness of meat sauce, so if I did not catch my mom in time, which was before she added meat to the sauce, I would be served plain noodles with melted butter and salt. These buttered noodles were one of my main meals as a kid.
As I have gotten older, my taste buds’ preferences have changed. I eat scrambled eggs made by anyone now, because I am no longer worried about the white part of the eggs. Furthermore, I enjoy my spaghetti with meat sauce and love the texture. I appreciate all of my mom’s effort in making my special dinners for me. I bet it was not easy to put up with such a picky eater, but I love my mom for enduring all the stress I caused and for loving me through my demanding years.