Meal Time. Rachel

Breakfast. Growing up breakfast came very early. Dad was always an early riser and desperately wanted the rest of us to be as well. So he would DRAG us out of bed at the crack of dawn….or more often annoy us out of bed by singing his favorite morning tune of “It’s time to get up, it’s time to get up, it’s time to get up in the morning!” followed by a harsh stealing of the covers that left us awake but not always happy about it.

As we all sat down at the table for breakfast we all hoped for our favorites: grits, cream of wheat, pancakes, waffles, eggs, etc. We all dreaded the awful nine grain cereal, river cereal and other terrible healthy hot cereals that you had to gag to get down.

One of the reasons that the nine grain cereal was one that we all cringed about was because one morning we all sat down and after mom handed out our bowls of cereal David started to cry because he didn’t want to eat it. He said that his cereal was alive and all the little bugs were moving around. Dad got upset that David was being disrespectful to mom and told him to be quiet and eat his cereal. We all ate the cereal. Then dad looked down in his bowl, picked it up to examine it closer and said, “Ummmm….I think there are bugs moving around in there.” We had all already eaten our cereal! Full of bugs! After that we were all paranoid and the cereal we didn’t want was even more of a nightmare.

Every Saturday morning mom and dad would make either pancakes or waffles with fried eggs. It was the best breakfast of the week and we all looked forward to it. There was nothing better than waking up to the smell of waffles baking in the kitchen. Dad was pretty famous for his homemade waffles and pancakes – after eating his, the ones offered at restaurants don’t stand a chance. I’d prefer dad’s over IHOP any day.

One breakfast “no no” was to eat cold cereal. We were only allowed to eat cold cereal on Sunday mornings. However, with mom and dad being gone a lot of afternoons all the kids would sneak in bowls of contraband cereal. We would eat it near the car port so we could hear if the cars were pulling up. Mom, if you wondered why it seemed like we went through cereal faster than you had expected it’s because we ate it more often than you realized.

Dinner. I remember eating dinner together as a family most nights. The dinners that I remember eating the most often are spaghetti with dad’s homemade sauce, tater tot casserole and shephard’s pie. On holidays we would have lasagna and the coveted cook and serve chocolate pudding in the glass cups kept in the cupboard for special occasions.

An important part of growing up in the Hite household was learning to “call your spot” at the table. Of course everyone wanted to sit next to mom. There were two ways that you could call your place: say it aloud or turn a cup upside down on the plate of your choice. The best scenario was to call it aloud AS you placed the cup upside down on the plate. There were many fights over spots at the table.

Eating tomatoes at the dinner table was one of my worst memories of my entire childhood. How is it that I hated the one food that seemed to be included with every meal? I have too many memories of sitting at the kitchen table, plugging my nose and gagging as I tried to eat the disgusting tomatoes on my plate. One time I convinced Melissa to eat my tomatoes. Unfortunately dad figured it out and neither of us got dessert that night. I felt badly that Melissa didn’t get dessert, but I have always thought back on that night and knew that she was a great big sister willing to do anything for me – even eat my tomatoes. Just for the record: I still hate tomatoes and probably always will.

Dessert and Treats. Dad always had a stash of little treats, usually peanut M&M’s or licorice. He was always so self-disciplined as he ate a small bit every night and then tucked them away into the secret container in the side of his big blue arm chair. When we were really lucky dad would make his famous milkshakes, either with peppermint patties or peanut M&M’s. I liked the peppermint patties the best. Mom always had treats hidden around the house, but I always knew where they were and ate them. Sorry mom. I inherited my sweet tooth from you.