Judge Not

As we were making up our meal plan for the week, we decided on a "breakfast" meal for supper. We often do this since we never take the time to cook real meals early in the day... at least not early enough to call them breakfast. Biscuits and gravy are a favorite of mine and of the kids.

Since I write the grocery list as I write up the meal plans, I found myself writing "frozen biscuits" and "gravy pack"... and then I quickly covered it with my hand and whispered, "I know, I know... just don't look, Mom."

And hubby had to laugh because he knew I was feeling ashamed of the fact that I buy frozen biscuits rather than make them from scratch and even more ashamed of the fact that I prefer packaged gravy mix. My mother was the biscuits and gravy queen and I could just hear her, as I made my list, telling me that it was so much cheaper to make from scratch and better for you and really not hard at all.... which is all probably true.

It's just that my biscuits are never consistently round and risen as they should be. And my gravy is quite smooth and lifeless (Mom always lamented that her gravy wasn't smooth like Grandma Million's, but her "lumpy" gravy was the best.) And perhaps I'm just lazy at heart and therefore willing to spend a few extra dollars to save myself sticky dough on my fingers and disappointing gravy in my pan.

So later, as I am pushing the grocery cart through the store, we pass a mother and her young sons in the packaged pasta area (just down from the gravy mixes, coincidentally). She was sorting through the hamburger helper type meals and they were discussing the merits of three cheese something vs. another option that made me shudder.

"Just move another aisle down," I wanted to say to her. "Don't feed your kids that crap when you can just as easily make it from scratch and it is better for you and really not hard at all..."

And that's about the time I heard my mother's voice mumbling about the gravy mix I'd just thrown in my cart.

"Okay, okay, I hear you," I whispered.

Who am I to judge another mother's shortcuts...

An old "biscuit memory" piece about my mother.