NYwdwfan
Well-Known Member
My mom usually put our sandwiches in plastic bags but occasionally if she ran out she would wrap them in plastic wrap or waxed paper. I wasn't a peanut butter and jelly fan so our sandwiches were usually deli meat. Every couple of weeks though there would be a special sandwich, at least I thought it was special. The special sandwich was a Bacos (usually the generic brand, not even real bacon bits). I loved this sandwich and it was such a treat to get it. About six years ago my mom and I were talking about it and come to find out it was her desperation sandwich. It was what she sent when she was out of deli meat and she was embarrassed to send us to school with it. She had no idea I loved it so much, she said she wished she had known how much I loved it because it would have saved her a bunch of money to send it more often!
When hubby and I got married he was miffed at the things I would save and reuse. Like I would save twist ties, empty jars and bread bags to reuse, in fact one of our first married tiffs was when he threw away all the bread bags I'd saved. His mom hadn't done anything like that. So he had a little learning curve as to why some things could be reused. He still prefers to just discard things instead of trying to repair or fix things. I grew up with the save, fix and reuse and he grew up with discard and get new. So I guess it is all how we were raised.
It's amazing how seemingly insignificant things can make the greatest impact on a child - both good and bad. I loved that story.
I'm guessing A.C. is here ^^^
I sort of know how old you are, but I have no idea how old @MinnieM123 is. Maybe your experiences are different because of an age gap.
There are seven years between me and my youngest brother, and sometimes I listen to him tell stories and it's like we didn't even grow up in the same house. When I was 12 for instance, my brothers were 11, 7, and 5. My mother was just returning to work now that her baby was in school full time. We owned one car. Money was tight, but we made do.
Fast forward to when my youngest brother was 12, and it was a whole different story. I was 19 and had moved out. The next brother was away at school, and never did move back home. There were only two kids left, my mom was working full time, two cars in the driveway, and my parents were flush with cash.
I remember the weekly trip to the grocery store yielded one bag of cookies and one 4-pack of Laura Secord pudding - for four kids! Apples were Macs, purchased in a 5-lb bag, subject to bruises and nicks.
My youngest brother remembers the cupboards flush with cookies, pudding cups, fruit cups, and great big huge, shiny waxed Delicious apples.
Same house ... same family ... seven years difference.
My kids think I grew up in a house loaded with Twizzlers, Oreos and Klondike bars because that's what my parents' house is now.
My dad once got a bit stern with my son and when I picked the kids up my son told me, "you have no idea what it's like to be a kid around Grandpa."