To clarify, I only hate breakfast as a parent. Breakfast in general is lovely. Breakfast after 9:30 AM, breakfast that isn’t prepared by me, and breakfast that does not have to meet any standards of healthiness, kid finickiness (yep, that’s a word), or timeliness is very lovely. Breakfast in my mom world fails on all counts, thus the breakfast hatred.
Basically, I survive breakfast every day. Sometimes I feed the kids bananas in the car on the way to school to survive breakfast. And in some twisted part of my brain, the part that will not let me purchase cold cereal for my children who would probably die a thousand happy deaths for one bowl of fruit loops, I have convinced myself that no breakfast is better than boxed cereal breakfast. I know it doesn’t make sense, but it’s just one of those things.
You know what else doesn’t make sense? Only 2 of my children will eat eggs for breakfast. Only 2 of my children will eat granola for breakfast. Sometimes my children will eat oatmeal for breakfast and sometimes they won’t and I only know what kind of day it is after I make the oatmeal and serve it up. So bananas on the run, well that makes as much sense as anything some days.
And while we are on the subject of things I hate, let’s add balloons to the list. How un-festive of me, I know. But, BALLOONS? They are deceptively colorful balls of pure misery waiting to happen. I have never, not once, had good things happen where balloons and kids were involved.
If you give them one in the grocery store, it will come untied in the parking lot and fly away. It will. It always does. And kids will cry the entire car ride home or longer. If it happens to survive and make it to the car, there will be a fight on the way home because only one person got a red balloon and the three people with blue balloons can never be happy again. If a balloon actually makes it into the house, someone will pop it and I’ll have to admit them to a witness protection program for their own safety. There will also be crying, lot’s of crying. Not to mention, if there is a balloon in my house I am waiting, on edge, always, for the inevitable pop and shriek. Balloons just make me nervous.
Even balloons without air or helium seem inherently pernicious to me. The kids try and blow them up, slobbering all over them. Finding their efforts unrewarded, they inevitably bring the slimy, spit soaked pieces of rubber to me begging with their big beautiful kid eyes for me to please blow it up. I, of course, break their hearts every time. Not only am I terrible at blowing up balloons, but I am actually terrified of tying them up. It’s going to pop, it’s going to pop, gaahh, it’s going to pop. It’s no good.
I hate you.
P.S. I hate breakfast too. Don’t take it personally. Adapted from Clean Eating, March 2011
But since no one likes a frowny face, here’s what I can say: Even for a breakfast hater, these Healthy Tex Mex Breakfast Pizzas are pretty darn good. All of my kids with more than 2 teeth like them and will eat them and I can even make them happen some school mornings, which is saying a lot for this slow-in-the-morning mama. If you’re really in a morning hurry, which we often are, just skip the eggs and these are still a hearty breakfast.
Adapted from Clean Eating, March 2011