* In case you didn’t catch it, I plagiarized the title of Michael Pollan’s book The Omnivore’s Dilemma- GREAT book, but don’t read it if you like what you currently eat. It made me give up pop, and I’m still pissed about it. (thanks Lisa Jean for the recommendation)*
My kids are early risers, they are both up and at ‘em no later than 6 am. I am not an early riser. Let me say this again, just to be clear, I am not an early riser. So, when they get up, I put them in our bed to watch cartoons until hunger, or the absurdity of 2 kids, 2 dogs and 2 adults in a bed force me to to join the world of the living. Then it’s the first of the three meals I’ll put on the table each day; breakfast.
{Breakfast}
Breakfast at my house is almost always the same- oatmeal or cold cereal (we decided that turning on the stove in the morning in my condition is a safety hazard) and fruit. So, each morning, I stumble my bleary eyed self into the kitchen and prepare breakfast for my kids amid demands for the pink minnie bowl, a big girl spoon, and a princess cup all while my darling son is crying and pulling my pajama pants off. ( I could discipline them, but as a rule, I don’t speak before 8 am so I just go to my happy place.) I feed Colt his oatmeal and get Laney’s food on the table, then clean up their mess, change a diaper and unload the dishwasher. Once that’s done I make myself coffee, with Laney’s “help” and sit down to eat my breakfast. But, NO, not so fast mom- apparently their breakfast wasn’t good enough. NOW they want MINE. That’s right, these little beings have taken my smooth stomach, perky boobs, my ability to sleep, a job I loved, and my sanity…. now they want my Yogurt?! I THINK NOT.
Thus breakfast ends with both my kids in tears, because Mommy won’t share.
{Lunch}
15 minutes after I clean up the debacle that is breakfast I start Lunch. Which is almost always PB&J or Mac and Cheese (gross, I know, but I need healthy ideas for lunch-any ideas?). Now, my darling daughter is VERY particular- she wants to “help” if your making a sandwich but that means you MUST do the peanut butter first, then the jam. Then, you must cut the sandwich into squares and put it on the ladybug plate (OCD much?). You’d think that after all that she and her brother would gobble them up, but you’d be wrong. What they will actually do is lick off all the peanut butter and jam and then throw the rest to the dogs and tell you they’re still hungry. My husband will eat assorted leftovers or a sandwich and then open all the cupboards while sighing that there is no food for HIM. After my family is fed, I generally eat the cold, leftover version of the leftovers.
{Dinner}
15 minutes after I clean up lunch, it’s time to get ready for Dinner. By this time I need some wine and music to get going (which explains our daily pre-dinner dance party). It is a comment on how much I hate cooking that I require the same playlist to work up the energy to cook dinner and as I do to run a 5k. For some reason dinner prep, always, brings out the worst in my kids. They cry, pull all the spices out of the spice rack, dance on cookie sheets, and generally make me wish for more wine. Then daddy’s home and we (they) sit down to eat. Meanwhile, I’m running a marathon, fetching ketchup, milk, paper towels to clean up the spilled milk, salt and more paper towels. If I’m lucky I sneak in a few bites of lukewarm dinner then start clearing dishes and related shrapnel.
1/3 of my day has now been monopolized by food prep (the other 2/3rds have been spent breaking up fights and wiping butts, respectively) and I have yet to eat a bite of warm food. (you’d think I’d be skinny but I tend to make up for it by eating Ice Cream after they’ve gone to bed- ha- take that kids!)
At this point I’m so ticked that I begin to price out private chef’s (who am I kidding? I also google mail order brides because, honestly, I’m considering a sister wife at this point).
And the best part? I get to do it all over again tomorrow… and the next day, and the next day, and the next day…
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