Oatmeal

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I have a very distinct memory of my grandpa and his habit of eating hot oatmeal for breakfast.  One morning, he ushered me forward until we both leaned over the hot steam of favorite porridge on the table in front of him.

“There’s only one way to eat oatmeal,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.  “First, you add the butter.  Then, brown sugar and plenty of it.  Wait…while it melts a bit.  And the best part of it all is to add just the right amount of milk…until it swirls. ”

I watched with intense delight as the milk tugged at the pool of sugary cream in the middle of his bowl.  It did look perfect.  My grandpa was perfect, in my young mind.  I tucked that ‘important’ moment away and I ate oatmeal just like that for the next 25 years of my life.

Now here I am in present day, consuming oatmeal void of sugar or fat.  Nuts and fruit are “ideal.”  Because I’m worried about health?  Maybe.  My grandpa died of a sudden heart attack just a few years later.  More so, I know it’s the best power breakfast for the ‘on the move’ mom.  That’s what the experts tell me.  I admit to my own sort of mechanical bandwagon when it comes to eating.  If They tell me, I will generally alter my food intake the same day.  Then, I move onto my kids.  Obsessing about anything they eat outside of my presence has been a passion of mine, but not so much this year.  School lunches have improved.  I don’t stop breathing when my son eats cheesy bread once a month.  I let my sons drink pop every so often.  Why?  Because I happily drank from my grandparent’s stash of glass-bottled grape soda growing up.  I sneak my dark chocolate.  I have been known to claim dessert as my one and only meal item.  I never suffered from cavities until I was 35 (and then only two).  I don’t struggle with my weight, despite my social grumps and groans.

You could say I appreciate the taste and essence of food more than ever.  More often than not, my oatmeal must be served plain.  The nuts and fruit are reserved for my ‘rebellious’ moments.  I often eat a bowl of plain Cheerios when I’m not eating oatmeal.  Water, instead of milk or juice.  Crispy toast and an array of vegetables.  Little snacks all day long.  I do fit the other stuff in – minus the guaranteed pain culprits (spice, acid or fried).  But, I pay…and unfortunately, payment terms are often 10 days to a month.  The experts tell me it’s a nerve disorder.  I think the experts have left me to tread water on my own.  I don’t believe they want to acknowledge that the medicine they told me to take for over a decade was incorrectly prescribed.  They don’t want to admit that the long-term side effects may have permanently impacted me, worsening a less intense condition.  They particularly don’t want to admit that they just don’t know.

I know I sound bitter, but I’m not.  You could say I’m complaining, but I’m not.  I’m just trying to make do with what I have …and I do become a little bit desperate when the nerves go South.  Them’s the facts.  I can only make the best of it.  So, tonight….I decided that oatmeal, Cheerios or toast just wouldn’t do.  I whipped up my version of comfort food:  cornmeal mush.  There’s only one way to eat it.  First, you add the butter.  Then, brown sugar and plenty of it.  Wait…while it melts a bit.  And the best part of it all is to add just the right amount of milk…but that’s really out of the question now.  So I added more sugar.  Rebellious.  Perfect.

Happy birthday, Grandpa.  I miss you.  I hope you have oatmeal where you are.

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