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Posts Tagged ‘breakfast’

The Beauty of Breakfast

banannaBreakfast, most of us have habits we are comfortable with.  Mornings are the most predictiable time of our day.  In the radio world the morning drive is a lot more expensive because you’re likley going to reach the same listeners every day. In the mornings most of us are creatures of habit. We do most things in the same order everyday. We wake up, brush our teeth, get some coffee, read, shower, watch the news.  It’s the same thing day after day.

Every morning I do something that makes my husband Alex crazy. I take my first cup of coffee into the bathroom, turn on the shower (hot) close the lid on the toilet then sit and read for twenty minutes in the sound proof, steamy bathroom. That’s what makes me happy.

But Alex makes me crazy in the morning too? He gets up two hours before I do and I know he sits in the living room and smokes his first days’ cigarette in the living room.  He’s not supposed to smoke in the house, but I know he does….before I wake up.

The only thing that changes in our house every morning is the breakfast menu. This morning Sandor and Sam had fish sticks with ketchup and sliced tomatoes, yesterday it was pizza bites, the day before Honey Nut Cheerios. Sometimes we have scrambled eggs and sometimes cheese quesadillas with salsa.

My lack of breakfast loyalty comes, I think, from my father.  He was always experimenting at breakfast.  There were protein milk shakes with raw egg, pizza toast with sauce and melted cheese and one of his favorites…popcorn and grapes.  He thought that combination was just like cereal with fruit. Dad even thought steak tar tar with a raw egg and Tabasco was a fine option.

Mornings are so tough, I kind of think you should get to eat what makes you happy, within reason.   If I wake Sandor up and say, “Hey boy, get ready for some awesome buttered toast,” he’d never get out of bed.  But when I say “come try mybanannas and strawberries with chocolate sauce,” he’s all over it.

Personally, I don’t like sweet stuff in the morning. I’d much rather have a taco and hot sauce for breakfast than a donuts. But it’s all abut what makes you happy in the morning. Do what it takes to get out the door. You’ve got the rest of the day to get your fiber and eat salads.

 

Bi-Polar Dictator at The Breakfast Table

A good mom (or dad, I don’t want to be sexist) in the morning has to be both bi-polar and zen to get kids to school on time. you gotta be be exquisitely irrational, brutal and daring. One person, with just one personality, doesn’t stand a chance . Every morning I’m the wheeling dealing gambler, dictator, stand up comedian, dancing diva, chef, dj.

Daughter, “Mom what’s it like today?”

“Warm and rainy, almost 80 degrees,” Meteorologist Mom

“What shoes with this?” It’s a short fluffy skirt and Chuck Norris tee-shirt.

“Cowboy boots, not the suede ones, because of the rain, maybe a belt or  something shiny with that shirt.” Fashion designer mom says.

I open the lap top and daughter says sweetly, “Lil Wayne, please?”

DJ/ Censor Mom yells, “Are you out of your mind? He can’t listen to that. Next request?”

“LMFAO?”

We all laugh our way through ‘I’m Sexy and I Know It.” I do my little hootchie coochie dance.

Then boy asks for Weird Al. Nothing better in the morning. Pop Scholar Mom has everything on the lap top or can find it on YouTube.

But boy is still just staring at his scrambled eggs.  He’s not a morning eatter, but I have to get a few calories in the kid. The Wheeler Dealer mom says, “What’s it gonna take to get you to eat?”

“I could do a donut.”

“Ok, you eat half the eggs  and you can have a donut. But you have to drink milk, not juice.”

“Ok,” he says and crams exactly half the pile of eggs in his mouth, it’s grotesque. He swallows it all, as though taking a dose of cod liver oil.  Nutritionist Mom hands him a donut and a glass of milk.

Daughter appears, looking really cute, in the boots and skirt. “So Mom, Roy is acting like such a punk to Heather since they broke up. He’s hanging all over other girls, big time. He gave Jessica a full back rub at lunch just to bug her.  I swear I want to punch him in the face.”

“No face punching.”

She makes a face. “Then I’m going to talk to him and tell him to cut it out.”

“That won’t work,” Says Relationship Counselor Mom.  “That’ll just give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s upsetting her. Just make sure she’s no where near him. If she can’t see him doing stupid stuff it won’t bug her.  And make sure you keep her busy. Do something fun Friday night.”

“I still want to punch him. Stupid mean boys.”

“Yeah, stupid boys.” I say and she laughs.

“Hey, stop talking about stupid boys,” son says. He has a huge milk mustache.

“Oh my lord, boy! You don’t have any pants on yet. You have to wear pants to school, I’m pretty sure that’s a rule.  Go get dressed. We leave in seven minutes.”

It doesn’t take a village to raise a child, it takes an entire staff of  schizophrenic forward thinking professionals.

*What’s your morning like Write to me at hampoland@gmail.com or leave a message. They make me happy.

The Dangers of Gangsters and Chirdren In The Morning

Mornings with kids are beautiful and vulnerable, like an elegant land mine. If you step over it, there’s no problem. If you step on it you’ll  loose a leg.

My ego often times rides on morning success.  If the forty five minutes before the bus arrives goes well, I’m convinced everyone will have a bright and shiny day and I get to drive to work feeling like a successful mother.  If the morning is ugly, filled with tension or tears, I end up clutching the wheel, convinced  everyone will have a terrible, awful, no good, day really bad day

Mornings are like see-saws made out of Legos.   Too much pressure and the whole damn thing falls apart. When Mary was little she hated socks and having her hair brushed so mornings were really treacherous.

Now it’s Lexie, Sandor and me in the morning.  Lexie keeps herself on track. She’s sleepy but focused in the morning. She has a high school routine and it’s important not to derail her train.  Left alone she is excellent as long as there is hot water and cereal.  I just have to say the right things when she asks about belts, shoes, shirts and hair. Crimped or straight? Pony tail or crazy insane curls? Cowboy boots or Pumas?

I try not to give her jobs in the morning, instead I make a list and leave it on the kitchen table. At the end of the list there are lots of xxxooo  because I love her so much, especially when she unloads the dish washer.

At nine, Sandor is an entirely different creature. He’s a sloth like animal who doesn’t like to eat first thing in the morning. He doesn’t want to do anything except hug for the first hour.

In the morning, Sandor sees his clothes but I have to remind him to put them on.  He sits in front of his bowl of cereal but I have to remind him to eat. He finds his shoes but I have to insist he puts them on. 

One tactic I use on Sandor to wake his fuzzy brain up is silly, but works.  I set up goofy games on the kitchen table or leave a puzzle out with only two missing pieces. 

This morning  I sat on the edge of his bed. “There’s a secret message on the kitchen table for you.”

“What is it?” He opens his eyes.

“Not telling, you have to check it out yourself.”

“Who left it?”

“I don’t know.”

He staggers out and laughs when he sees my stupid message made with Scrabble letters. It says, “Yo Gangsa Face”.  I leaveextra letters out so he can add to the note.  He’s a nine year old boy so, of course, he adds the word “butt”.   The word “butt” makes everything funnier.

Mornings can be tricky but I have skills and sometimes manage to avoid the land mines.

*What’s your secret in the mroning?  Comment or e-mail me. I love that. hampoland@gmail.com

Sausage On A Stick…The Killer Breakfast

I’ve got breakfast issues. I know it’s the most important meal of the day but it sure as hell isn’t the healthiest. I realized that again today when I said to my 8 year old, “Do you want pizza or spaghetti-os this morning?” Wait, I do try to put some fruit, grapes of a banana on the side of the plate next to the pizza, I promise.

Allmost all of the packaged breakfast stuff is actually crap and loaded with chemicalsand preservative, waffle, pancakes, sausage and pancake on a stick. why don’t you just eat a deep fried Twinkie? Oh my Lord, there’s nothing good in there and you know it. Especially after you pour a half cup of sugar syrup, I mean maple syrup, all over everything. And their teachers wonder why they are all jacked up.

Sometimes the kids will eat Honey Nut Cheerios but I worry that’s not enough to hold them till lunch.

I think my breakfast issues started with my father. When I was little he was in charge of feeding me before I scampered off to 1st grade. He felt popcorn and grapes were the perfect breakfast combo, kind of like cereal and fruit, but different. Or he would fix me my favorite, something I’m sure is deadly but I feed it to my kids too. Cheese Toast With Sliced Up Hot Dogs…that’s yummy stuff in the AM hours.

And what would Dad have? Two raw eggs (ala Rocky)  with a ton of Tabasco sauce. No doubt, that’s the healthiest thing mentioned in this blog. Thanks Dad.

You Can’t Handle The Truth or My Mornings

Every day I ask my husband, Alex,  how is day was. He says, “you have no idea”. Yeah yeah, I roll my eyes. Alex is the executive chef at a giant throughbred race track so, on a race day he may feed 15,000 people and walk 10 miles. Yes, he works hard, and he works long hours 50-60 a week, but I’m about ready to throw down. Because I don’t think he could handle my mornings for a week. So this blog is for every mom who gets it done.

This morning I tok a shower then woke Sandor up, who was grumpy. We found pants but he thought there was something wet in the pocket so I told him to find another pair.  When I came back he was staring at his hand, which was stuck inside Mr. Potato Head (I didnt’ ask why). He wasn’t happy.

“Please get your hand out of Mr. Potato Head” I said then I found more pants, put them on top of his head and told him to come eat breakfast.

Lex tried to cheer him up while they ate cereal and grapes but he wasn’t speaking. I sang something stupid but that didnt’ work so I turned on the radio. Right off the bat there was a song by Buck Cherry. Yikes “Yeah, you’re a crazy b*&#$ but you _________so good I’m on top of it,” what was that doing on my normally tame morning radio show? I moved like a “mom tsunami” across the kitchen to hit the stop button my baby toe hit the leg of the chair. Oh, my Lord, I started cursing worse than the song.
That cheered Sandor up. He started laughing so hard he spewed cereal milk on the clean laundry.

They went to the bathroom to brush their teeth and I stared making lunches. But the bread was moldy so they both got a sip lock full of sliced steak and a pop tart. That’s a decent lunch, right?

After feeding the dog, finding Sandor’s lost shoe and wiping butterscotch pudding out of his back pack I sent him off to find the lost library book.

Lexie needed ten dollars for something, then she needed my tennis shoes for PE, my camera and the necklace I got for Christmas…then she was ready for school but Sandor was crying. If we didnt’ find his library book he’d miss recess.

So Lexie and I went on red alert to find the lost book, which was next to the bathtub because he’d asked me to read to him while he was soaking. (Hey, he’s been sick, so yes, I’ve been babying the boy)

They both made it out the door and caught the bus and that was the first 30 minutes of my morning.

You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth or the reality of my mornings. Alex may be able to feed the masses and roll out 5,000 pounds of corned beef sandwiches but I don’t think he could get the kids on the bus by 7:14.