Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Breakfast . . . is going to kill me!

Everyone talks about the power of breakfast.  

I agree; breakfast is important, but these news people make it sound like it can cure leprosy, raise the dead, make wingless birds fly and mute frogs croak.  If zombies attack, don't worry, just give them breakfast; they'll be cured of the disease.  If Anne Rice turns into one of her own characters just give her a bite of breakfast and she'll hunger for bacon instead of blood.  Superman became super because of breakfast.  Hera became the Queen of Olympus BECAUSE she ate breakfast!  Gandhi fasted for peace, but every once in a while I bet he ate BREAKFAST!

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I used to love breakfast, before I had children.  It's just a whole lot of work now.  I swallowed these stories and in an effort to raise the healthiest kids on this planet, I decided to let my children choose something healthy for breakfast each day.  I'd cook them each whatever they wanted, as long as they'd eat healthy.

I didn't think that was a big deal after watching what my mother-in-law goes through.  She cooks without soy because my father-in-law can't eat it.  Almost everything has soy and it's a huge deal she does that for him; I know I couldn't do it.  Compared to her soy sacrifice, this breakfast vow seemed easy.  I did it for over three years and now I'm getting tired.  For example: Two days ago "The Scribe" ate Jiffy corn pancakes. 


Corn pancakes are straight for Heaven.  If you haven't tried them, you need to!  The recipe is on the back of a jiffy corn muffin box.
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So, "The Scribe" wanted corn pancakes with eggs over easy, "The Hippie" wanted leftover chicken soup, "The Zombie Elf" wanted scrambled eggs and the baby wanted oatmeal.  That's how breakfast goes over here.  My kids don't always choose the same things, but it's insane--all because I want to be a good mom!  Is it worth it?  I decided it wasn't, and yesterday, after all the kids woke up, I set a big box of off-name corn puffy things on the table.  I put two gallons of milk next to the box AND some orange juice (to prove I'm not a complete failure.)

"What's that?" The Scribe asked.

"It's breakfast," I plastered a smile on my face.

"That's cereal."  The Hippie laughed.  "That's not breakfast."

"It is breakfast.  Eat up." 

Both girls gaped as I poured their cereal.  You would've thought they were trying new food in a foreign country!

The only ones who seemed happy about it were the baby and The Zombie Elf.  The baby was too young to fathom the severity of my actions and my boy--will eat Styrofoam.

"Well, are you going to try it?"

The Zombie Elf and the baby started eating slowly.  The baby even seemed to like it!  I sighed in bliss.  Maybe I wouldn't dread the morning so much--I would live to see another day!  Some other people may think breakfast is great, but it's been killing ME slowly.

As I watched my babies eat, The Hippie spoke, "It's not that bad.  It does taste a little funny, but it's not bad."

"Mom.  Isn't breakfast the most important meal of the day?  Don't you want us to be healthy?"  As The Scribe talked, her eyes went big like Puss in Boots'.  "I thought you wanted us to live to be one-hundred and I bet this cereal has soy in it." 

I snorted.  "You're not allergic to soy, my friend.  There's nothing wrong with you eating cereal and yes I want you to live to one-hundred."

"But this looks like straight sugar."

When did she care about sugar?  The fact was that she doesn't, she just wanted some eggs and I felt horrid denying her.  I broke then, since The Scribe will make a great breakfast lawyer someday.  "What kind of eggs do you want?"

"Over easy," The Scribe crooned.  "I love eggs and you.  I like you too."

"Just watch the baby.  I don't want her shoving too many of those in her mouth."  The baby looked like a chipmunk.  She had so many puffs in her mouth a couple spilled by the corner of her lip and stuck to her chin.  She chomped and her eyes didn't blink as she stared at me like I was guilty of the worst sugar crime she'd ever seen.  I'd fed my baby cereal!

I turned to cook the eggs and right as the oil sizzled, I heard my baby sneeze--the mother of all sneezes.  I ran over, and to my complete dismay, she'd sneezed out the largest corn puff I've ever seen.  "What the heck?  I thought you said you'd watch the baby!  She shoved a corn puff UP HER NOSE!"

The Scribe sat silently.  I wiped the baby's face as The Hippie and The Zombie Elf continued eating their food.  "So?" I turned to The Scribe who intently watched The Hippie.  "What do you have to say for yourself?"  I was miffed more at myself than her.  I should have fed EVERYONE a real breakfast. 

The Scribe straightened, then gazed at The Hippie who still had her mouth full of cereal.  "It's time you knew the truth," The Scribe said.  "Did you see what just happened to the baby?"

The Hippie nodded, still chewing.

"Well," The Scribe said.  "That's how cereal is made.  That's why it's so bad for you."

The Hippie spit out her food.  I put my face in my hand and when I looked up The Hippie had put her cereal down the sink.  "Why would you make us eat that, mom?  I thought you loved us," the Hippie said.

"That's NOT how cereal is made," I said.

"I knew it tasted funny," The Hippie whispered to The Scribe.  "And look at that box!  The cartoons even look like boogers!

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"Look he's still eating it."  I motioned to my boy.

"Yeah, because he likes eating boogers.  I saw him eat one once," The Hippie said, falling further into The Scribe's trap.

The Scribe's eyes lit with merriment as she watched my reaction and The Zombie Elf who continued eating his breakfast--like I said that boy will eat Styrofoam. 

So, both of my girls ate eggs.  Maybe I'm stuck in the breakfast cycle of doom, but at least my children will live to be one-hundred.  I just have one last comment:  I could maim the person who decided to draw cereal cartoons that look like boogers.  The Hippie was right; those cartoons suck!