Wow. It’s been a while. And I swear, I keep trying to get back into this whole blogging thing, but I keep writing these gargantuan posts about HUGE ideas, that surprisingly, go nowhere. I’ll keep them in the works, but man, it’s been getting a little heavy up in here.
So I thought, maybe it’s time for a little mindless fun.
Here, in our neck of the woods, winter is going down with a fight. Don’t get me wrong, I love winter. I really do. But come mid-March, the idea of trading in snowsuits for sunscreen actually makes me salivate. Picture yourself. You’re on your knees, stuffed into the small space by your door leading outside. The gateway between the infernal stuffiness of the indoors, and a massive, unconfined space. You have three excited, small children falling all over each other with one goal in mind: Doorsmosis. One is holding your hair for support. The other opens the door and lets the indoor cat, out. Another has just decided this would be a great time to pee. An unidentified foot is asking you to put it’s appropriate outdoor covering on it, while a snotty hand mistakes your face for a great resting spot. Now, in that state, what looks more appealing to you, in terms of preparation to vacate the premises?
This?
They are literally wearing 1000 pieces of clothing, each.
…or this?
And to think I once complained about how annoying it is to apply sunscreen.
Anyway, in the summer, we’re basically outside all day. Which, I don’t know if you’ve heard or not but kids LOVE. In the winter, we don’t make it outside nearly as often. It’s tough with Ben, because with his 12″ (or so) legs stuffed into his fluffy, pillow-like snow pants, it’s really hard for him to walk in the snow. So we always end up going for “walks” (the quotation marks around “walks” means that I really meant to say “a hellish fright fest of attempting to restrict three stir-crazed children to the confines of the sidewalk while their ears are covered by hats”) instead of just playing, which is what everyone prefers to do. So even Ruby and Emma aren’t overly jazzed about going outside every day.
By mid-March, winter’s joys turn into winter’s pains-in-the-snow-pants. The days get long and there seem to be more of than seven in any given week. So with that knowledge, I wake up every day and think, “Today I am going to make this fun. Today is going to RULE!”
That feeling has usually worn off by the time we finish breakfast.
But it does last through breakfast! And that is the reason for this very post. I’m afraid I’ve developed a problem, painted myself into a corner, and won’t be able to come out until the sun shows it’s warm, fun face.
It all started with this breakfast.
An innocent “toast” to Christmas.
It was (relatively close to) Christmas. It was an innocent gesture. But they LOVED it! They went crazy about how fun it was. So, on Christmas Eve morning, I made it a little better, and came up with this.
You should be setting the table, instead of setting the expectation too high.
Again. Jazzed. They thought it was awesome. I could see then, I would have to restrict it to holidays only. On Valentines Day I made pancakes with heart sprinkles and strawberries pared into the shape of hearts. As I was cutting a strawberry, I paused and said to myself, “You KNOW this is a slippery slope. You have to get out, and you have to get out now.” I did…after I served the heart-strawberries of course. That’s a lot of work to throw away!
A few weeks went by. The kids’ excited, expectant eyes, anticipating the day’s breakfast creations, quickly turned back into their normal bored, do-we-have-to? eyes.
Then this happened.
I swear on all that is good, no yolk manipulation took place between the shell cracking and picture snapping.
Upon seeing this picture, my sister, Jenny, asked, “Is that Jesus?” I mean, Jesus showed up in my eggs! And look at that melancholy expression!! I couldn’t quit now! So, over the next few weeks I went at it with a new found fury.
I submit to you, the first item of my overwhelming breakfast geekery, Exhibit A.
Not my finest work, but I made up for the lack of the girl’s panache by giving her a mysterious red-eyed egg pet.
This was met with a mediocre response. My divine message paired with this lacklustre response prompted Exhibit B.
Unconscious urge to tell your kids this is “driving” you nuts, much?
That is toasted ciabatta for crying out loud! I should at least get a pat on the back for quality of ingredients. Anyway, this one impressed the kids, but like anyone else in the world, they could be getting sick of eating toast, eggs and strawberries (not effing likely in this house but anyway) that inspired a new choice of ingredients.
I present, Exhibit C.
Can I interest you in s’more breakfast?
Big mistake. Big, BIG mistake. They are still asking me if they can have peanut-butter-toast-s’mores for breakfast and I don’t think they’ll ever stop. I had to placate them, and quick. I needed to come back with something impressive, but that at least looked healthy. And considering the VAST palate of my children, one in particular RUBY!, I decided to choose…
…toast, eggs and strawberries. Hey! Don’t judge! I don’t think you get who I’m working with here. To say she has a delicate palate is giving her a lot of room. Anyway, I did something bad.
Exhibit D.
Idiot.
I went 3-D. I did. I bumped it into a new dimension and only the sun can save me now.
Summer. Find us. Find us before I start recreating the seven wonders of the world with boiled eggs and toast. Hey, wait…I could use the eggs for the dome in the Taj Mahal…
Stop. Just stop.
Thanks for checking in!
Lora
