Thursday, May 3, 2012
Don’t you hate breakfast?
It’s so overrated, so conceited with its most important meal of the day bragging.
I am not opposed to breakfast foods, mind you. I am a huge fan of what my husband’s Uncle Dave referred to as the “Lord Baltimore.” I don’t exactly know what that reference even means other than a big ass breakfast meal. I do love breakfast food - any time after noon - preferably scarfed down after a morning workout or a big sleep in, bonus points if accompanied by champers.
And I love breakfast foods for dinner! Nothing pleases me more than a breakfast burrito at Tower Two, or the carnitas machaca at Miguel’s on a Sunday afternoon.
But on a work day, the thought of breakfast is abhorrent. Although I head straight to the kitchen upon waking each morning, the only sustenance I take for myself comes in the form of hot, black love with milk in my coffee cup.
I get to work, and once my stomach and my sensibility have settled in to the day, I’ll have a little fruit/yogurt/granola action, and I'll live my life. It’s allll good.
Except for the children.
Ever since my girl was a wee tiny bald creature, she has needed food immediately upon waking. She only recently corrected her pronunciation of the “brefixed” (sob) she demanded.
My boy is more like me, he is squeamish in the morning and usually doesn’t want to eat. He comes to the table and collapses onto a pillow of his arms, a foul attitude surrounds his head like a dank aura of doom. I try not to hear his muttering in a feeble attempt to avoid drama. As I advise my daughter numerous times every day: “Don’t poke the bear.”
I am my mother’s daughter, though. It’s the ultimate irony. I know exactly how my boy feels, I remember those mornings at the yellow (nice oval) table, feeling like I really would barf if ate a single bite of whatever abomination my mom dared to offer. I now understand the logic that leads a mother to believe that a bowl of cocoa puffs is better than nothing. If my kids goes out into the day without the most important meal of the day (eye roll) on board, I lose at momming.
So every morning, I ask what the kids want for breakfast, and my girl places her order while my boy goes on strike. On the rare day that he joins the conversation, I am thrilled to be their short order cook. It does make me happy to see them eat a good breakfast. It does make me feel like a better mom. Brainwashed.
Yesterday the kids asked for French toast, which is kind of fun to make although I’d rather walk the plank than eat that shit. It was all I could do not to gag as I flipped the soggy, soft bread in an attempt to burn it into some class of crispiness that I could even contemplate surviving.
My girl doesn’t like things crispy, though. She even likes whole grain waffles all soft and mealy. Gross. At least my boy inherited my preference for burned toast and bagels. He eats runny eggs though, ew.
Don’t you hate breakfast?