in my home. I cooked another batch of limas in honor of the ladies. My husband loves them and I love them now and it makes me cry when I think of the many battles with mom to eat your limas. I hated them. They were horrible and I wouldn't eat them. I threw them behind the radiator and put them around my plate and did everything not to eat them. Now when I eat them I get heart aches of pangs of remorse, what health I probably missed, for rebelling in that way.
It makes me a little more persistent at times when the children combat me in some area or another. If I know it is good for them, although I never push the limas upon them, I will make them and I take out all of my arsenal to boot. They laugh at me when I get my broom like Grandma Ruth used to do with her boys. They say mom, you aren't going to hit me with a broom are you. As I look up at my, nearly 6 foot son, I say, " Oh, won't I!" They do as they're told so as not to see me "lose my 'ligion!"
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