The human heart was—and remains—a mystery to me. But I’m learning. I have to. —Anthony Bourdain

Of childhood memories with practical parents

I remember growing up, my parents (mostly my mom who kept the budget), always made sure we had what we needed. We weren’t (and are still not) rich. We’ve made it by with hard work and practical choices, like picking the sturdier shoe that would last as long as it fit, and grocery editing to “Do you want it or do you need it?” Truly, I was raised to know that function mattered most and when we had extra, we still had to put it aside for emergencies. Being CPAs and having the same job for years, my parents were of the generation of stability, and lived it to the letter. Get a job that pays the bills that will earn you a decent retirement after decades of service. Every choice was made to give us the best life they could provide, all the while looking towards a future we would still need to think of, and preparing for the unknown.
That is to say, my parents still thought of providing the best for us, to what they could afford. My mom, when we were growing up and she was busy with her job, took us to restaurants (and not just cooked at home which my father preferred and was the more practical choice) that were nice. My favorite was Pancake House, where we would get chocolate chip pancakes, tacos, a rootbeer float or a milkshake, and a banana split if we were a group. It wasn’t the fanciest, (or really, the healthiest) but it made for some of my favorite memories.

My father would bring us pizza and ice cream sometimes after a late night and we would eat it post bedtime. It was always Pizza Hut’s Super Supreme and Selecta’s Queso Royale. It was amazing because we would be woken up for junk food and got to laugh with our dad, who at the time would be less uptight because of a fun night of drinking.

For me, because I knew those moments were rare, and that it took time, money and effort to get there. Even if I did hate churros at Dulcinea growing up, I could remember heading out to try it one of those weekends. Until now my favorite pizza is from the Hut, no special crusts, just the same flavor, as the greasy, overfilled pie still brings fun night time memories with my family.

My childhood was 80%  practical and 20% moments like these sprinkled in, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

What are your favorite moments from your childhood?



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