First: A bit of business…
The winner of the Mommy Mixology Giveaway is:
Missy | The Literal Mom: literalmom@——–
Congratulations! I’ve emailed you to obtain shipping address information. I hope you enjoy this book as much as I have!
And now…Back to our regularly scheduled post:
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When I reflect upon my childhood…growing up as the oldest of three children in central New Jersey in the 1970′s…I more or less remember it with rose-colored fondness. Both of my parents worked to provide our family with what we needed. Our days were spent in the care of a lovely elderly neighbor lady named Eve who doted on us. Between the efforts of my parents and Eve, my younger brothers and I were loved, nurtured, and cared for as all children deserve to be.
We went out for ice cream at Carvel’s on the corner when we were good.
We took annual vacations to Daytona Beach to visit RaRa, my maternal grandmother.
Heck, I even had Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. Because EVERYONE who was ANYONE had a designer swan stitched on their right cheek back in the day.
We also summered in The Hamptons and attended world premiers of most child-friendly movies in Los Angeles.
I kid. We spent the occasional weekend on the Jersey Shore and waited all year for The Sound of Music to be aired on television, commercials and all.
But I digress. What I mean to say is that we were like most middle class families during that era…with one major exception.
My brothers and I were given no milk.
Ever.
Oh, don’t you fret…we got our vitamins A and D, our calcium and all the rest…
…by ingesting powdered milk.
Shut up.
It was one of the ways my parents chose to save money in those days.
And oh, how I hated it.
It smelled like poop, friends.
And it tasted not quite as good as it smelled.
It was truly the only way I can think of that I was deprived. And I spent a great deal of my idle time devising plans on how I could get my hands on actual cow’s milk.
Because when you are raised on a steady diet of powdered milk? And when you have the occasional opportunity to sample the real deal, say, at a friend’s house?
Cow’s milk tastes like cream.
Better than cream. Like a milkshake, friends. Laced with ecstasy.
I craved it. Begged for it. Refused to drink the powdery stuff.
And the harder I clamored for it?
The more my parents dug in their heels. To hear them tell the tale, they were going to put my brothers and me through college and possibly adopt three more children in our absence with the money that they were saving on each purchase of powdered milk.
On occasion, a friend would call and invite me to sleep over, and our conversations sounded something like:
“Hey, Sue, can you sleep over on Friday?”
“Ummm…I think so…I have to ask my mom. What’s for breakfast?”
“Huh?”
“On Saturday morning, I mean. Will we have cereal?”
“Uh…probably.”
“With milk?”
“Duh. Yeah.”
“Oh, that’s great. Really, really great. Yeah. I’m pretty sure I can. Hey…I could probably stay until lunchtime on Saturday if you want me to. We could, you know…have sandwiches…and some more milk.”
And so it went.
My Cherubs know all about this part of my upbringing. And I receive no sympathy from them. They think it’s cool. Sort of astronaut-ish, if you will.
Until I offer to let them try it.
Then they pipe the heck down and guzzle their milk like obedient little souls.
Inspired by a prompt from Mama Kat’s Writers’ Workshop: ”What do your kids have that you always wanted when you were a kid?”
This is the very first time I’ve ever heard of a kid, sneaking around their parent’s back, for a cup of milk. I guess I’ve heard it all now!
m.
Said the elitist one who was obviously raised on the real deal.
Ahhh the frugal years. You know I have not told the daughters that you are blogging again and now I know why. You would have two more in your corner of deprivation. Yes, we too were in the same penny pinching boat with your parents – Powdered Milk for ALL! It’s just a crime what we did to you in your formative years. It’s a wonder you managed to grow up! But now it would be considered RESPONSIBLE considering childhood obesity because (are you ready for this?)
Powdered milk equaled SKIM MILK which is now FAT FREE MILK and . . .
ANYTHING FAT FREE MUST BE GOOD!!
Laughing all the way to the Piggy Bank!
Again I say it: It smelled like P-O-O-P, Abi.
Ahh, I remember Carvel. Yum-o. My house was the opposite of yours — I HAD to have milk at breakfast and dinner until I went to college. Then I didn’t touch it for years (AND at dry Fruit Loops, which were not allowed in my house, every a.m.).
Yeah. We didn’t get sugared cereal, either, Kerry. *choking back sobs*
Just the thought of powdered milk makes me cringe. We had powdered milk if we ran out of the real stuff, and lets just say I did not enjoy it at all.
Michelle, I will make a midnight run to 7-11 to pick up a gallon before allowing a box of that stuff into my home.
My grandmother’s excuse for powdered milk was that she lived so far from town. Um, yeah, but Grandma,…you live a quarter mile from A DAIRY!
Now THAT? Is funny.
Powdered milk? Seriously? Ugh!
I am a milk fanatic. I can drink a gallon a day if it weren’t so expensive. But I would never in a million years buy it powdered!
As we say in the south, “Bless your heart, poor thing.”
As they said in New Jersey, “Bully for you, cow’s-milk-guzzler.”
Yay, me! What a perfect gift for a girl who’s spent her summer like it’s one big long 86 day party!
My brother gives his kids powdered milk occasionally. I think they feel the same way about it as you.
Yay, you! And boo for your brother’s kids!
Oh, wow, powdered milk – awful! Anything with a shelf life of 20+ years (it’s true), especially in the dairy category, can not be good. I hated all milk growing up and I do think it had something to do with having tasted powdered milk! Enjoyed your post – lots of familiar 70s memories! Stopped by from Mama Kat’s.
Ah, another child of the 70′s. I fear that we’re a rarity in today’s blogging world. Nice to “meet” you!
And you!
Sue — Growing up on a “fully functional” farm we had our own fresh cow milk (as well as fresh home-made bread). We did have a 50 lb bag of powdered milk which we mixed and fed to our farm cats with a couple of shredded slices of “store-bought” bread. Thanks for “refreshing” my memory. I assume your parents also fed you “store-bought” bread? Either way, you will forever be a farm cat in my mind (meow)!!!!!
Ha! *meow*
Ha! That’s pretty gross. I would have devised many plans to not drink the powdered stuff either.
P.S. Totally remember those jeans. Mine were the darkest of blue with the bright yellow swan…I’m pretty sure I was the cat’s meow (with my feathered hair parted straight down the middle, of course)
Yes, Jen! And Calvin Kleins. PLEASE tell me that you had a pair of Calvins, too…
My grandparents bought powdered milk and I do remember how horrible that stuff was, but believe it or not today’s powdered milk is quite a bit better. It’s still not as good as what you get in the jug, but vastly improved. If push comes to shove, I can stomach the powdered stuff today verses yesteryear’s. =D
Good to know, Cathy…but still not gonna buy any. EV-ah.
Carvel ice cream!!! Now that’s what *I* wanted as a kid. We saw the commercials all the time courtesy of the Rochester NY tv feeds but alas, no Carvel in good ol’ Canada!
Great post!
*clickin’ in from Mamakat*
Oh, so good…their ice cream cakes? To DIE for.
This is a great take in the prompt – I have powdered milk on hand for emergencies and you are sooooo right. Nasty.
So, you’ve actually used it? Brave soul.
Funny, I don’t even remember drinking actual cow’s milk when I was a kid. I do remember making myself cups of milk from the powdered stuff and I loved it.
Such is reality when you don’t actually realize there is the real deal available.
Gosh my parents were evil.
Exactly. I didn’t know better until I started spending more time and eating over at friends’ houses.
I didn’t drink milk because I didn’t like milk. But my folks weren’t loaded either. We ate mustard sandwiches…no joke! My mom still says: “But they were so good!”…notice how she doesn’t say, “But they ARE so good!”
…and powdered milk…blaaaahhhhh…
That which does not kill us…right, Sandra?
My mom used to have to buy like 4-5 gallons a week! And . . . We did have the powdered for back up!
That’s what I buy now, Betsy. Minus the powdered backup. #poopsmell
Entertaining post, daughter. And some of it is even true! Yes, while we did have homemade milk – sounds much better than powdered – some of the time, certainly not the only way we flew. The decision to go homemade – gee, I really like that term! – was primarily mine, as I recall. Your mom went along with my idiosyncratic call on this to pick her battles, never seeing a milk decision as significant enough to get exercised over. Aren’t you and your kids glad that I no longer feel the need to go homemade when you are over for a meal!! Oh, Aunt Dixie says hi and that she enjoys your blog in general and latest post in particular!
Oh, Dad.
You wear the rose colored glasses as well, I see. xo
I lean towards a half full glass as descriptive of my outlook.
And not sure how personal vision applies here. Perhaps we can discus when we next proximately visit!
What the heck, right?
Do they even sell that poison dust anymore?
It smelled like vomit and I’d choke with it at every meal.
We had powdered milk and oh my god I blame it for my still present today gag reflex.
Really. The stuff was something that was close to child punishment, wasn’t it?
I haven’t thought about that horrid huge rectangular red and blue box, with the paper that’d tear away to expose a plain cardboard box underneath IN DECADES.
GOOOOOOD RIDDANCE.
xo
Thanks for sharing in my misery, Felt So Good.
This brought back a bad memory for me as well. My parents tried to “hide” it they would pour out 1/2 of the real milk so they had (2) 1/2 containers & then would fill the rest with powdered crap. Nasty & we would call them on it every time. My dad used to work for Carnation Milk farms so he would get the BIG boxes of it for free & didn’t want it to go to waste. You work for a Milk farm bring home the real stuff please. lol
Wow, Cindi…A powdered milk/deception double whammy! Poor thing…
[...] With the exception of milk. [...]