You know that howling three-year-old in the store, screaming at the top of her lungs, eyes red and wet from her emotional outburst? The one you can hear half-way across the store, exclaiming her certainty that the world is unfair and justice must be served to her NOW?
That's kind of how I feel about rationing right now.
I'm tired of the constraints and the rules and the can't haves and can't do's.
I was already feeling this way a bit (I think it's part of the natural stir-crazy feeling that comes at the end of winter) but it reared it's ugly head big-time in the past few days when we went on a mini-vacation with our good friends.
Late Monday afternoon we went to a local indoor water park/hotel combo (using some of our saved-up miles) and got away from the everyday mundane, if only for a day.
No points. No counting.
Since both families were doing a vacay-on-the-cheap we both brought our own breakfast and lunch supplies for the second day. We did eat out at a restaurant Monday night, but our ration points for the week were reduced as a result.
No points. No counting.
And then back to reality.
I didn't want to leave vacation. I didn't want to be subjected to the rationing rules again.
We arrived back home early Tuesday evening and I didn't want to stop being on vacation. I didn't want to fix our ration-friendly meal and deal with the dishes and the clean-up and the work. So Sissy and I headed to the neighborhood Chinese restaurant (TMOTH and Eowyn had eaten enough junk throughout the day and weren't hungry for dinner).
This was a contraband meal.
I think it's even getting a little to TMOTH, who is typically a very easy-going guy. Last week his self-imposed rationing-year ban on liquid forms of caffeine came to a crashing end when he had two Cokes in one day (and proceeded to feel a little queasy).
I can only imagine that what I'm feeling was par for the course in 1943, as families adjusted to the new wartime rationing system. Granted, at this point in 1943 canned goods rationing had only been in effect for six or seven weeks and meat/fat/cheese rationing had only been enforced for two weeks.
This coming Saturday we will be entering our 13th week of rationing.
On the bright side, we will be 1/4 of the way through our rationing year. In 1943 no one knew how long the rationing would last (or who, more importantly, would win the war).
I can only hope that the next six months will be easier, as more fresh produce options become available and healthier menu plans can be accommodated. It will be nice to work in the garden and feel the sunshine on our skin and feel like we're making progress towards preserving a stash of produce for winter.
Until then, I might be a little pouty about this rationing thing.
So bear with me, folks, while I have my tantrum.
Like the three-year-old in the store, I'll be done with it in 15 minutes and get distracted by something shiny and forget what it was that I was upset about.