I gave my kids cookies for breakfast this morning. I don’t really feel bad about, either. *striking combative stance*
No really, I don’t feel bad. I’ve been trying to get myself to feel guilty about it since it happened two hours ago but it’s not working. My self-induced guilt machine must be broken. Hallelujah!
I think I don’t feel guilty because every single morning I usually wake up to find myself standing in front of a frying pan with toast burning in the toaster. Every morning for as long as I can remember I’ve made Sienna a fried egg and given both Sienna and Charlotte whole-wheat toast with butter and organic, sugar-free jam. (Charlotte won’t eat eggs. We’re seeking family counseling about the issue.) On the weekends I make them oatmeal or muffins or banana bread. Now, before you start feeling inferior as you look at your breakfast table which is littered with the remnants of the cereal you gave your kids this morning, know that my insistence on eggs and toast is not borne of some fantastic mommy-ness that forgoes convenience in favor of a well-rounded breakfast. Nope, not at all. It’s actually the direct result of my dire lack of self-control.
I know that packaged, sugar-laden breakfast cereals are nutritionally defecit and full of empty calories. I also know that they are delicious and irresistible, and if I did buy them my kids probably wouldn’t get any anyways because I would eat them all. Especially the ones with little chemically-composed marshmallows. So that’s why they get eggs and toast.
Speaking of self-control, guess who had cookies for breakfast along with my kids?
This blog post pretty much ensures that I’m going to spend the Christmas holidays eating some major crow at my in-law’s house, because my father-in-law, the Ever-Teacher, eats cookies for breakfast every single morning. He maintains that since they’re full of raisins and nuts they’re healthy. Then he asks us all how we’re doing in our struggles to lose weight. Then he offers us cookies and talks about the need for restraint.
Although I must admit that this morning he’s way ahead of us, nutritionally speaking. At least his cookies do contain raisins, nuts and oats. Mine were full of white flour, yummy sugar, tons of butter and chocolate chips. Mmmmm. Still no guilt. I’m pretty sure at this point I won’t feel guilty until later, when I happen to catch a glimpse of my waistline in the abhorrently large mirrors that sometimes function as sliding doors on our closet. Then I will swear off cookies forever. And this time, I’ll mean it.
In other news, today is the birthday of my best friend in the whole world, who has been with me through thick and thin, hell and highwater. And honestly, there’s been a whole lot of hell and highwater in the past few years, but she has never left my side. Even though she now lives across the country she still makes time for weekly phone calls and (unlike me) never forgets her goddaughter’s birthday. We also have a big stash of maternity clothes that are pretty much in constant rotation between the two of us, and she is much more prompt than I am about getting them to me practically as soon as I see those two blue lines, since she knows that my waist grows six inches as soon it realizes that too-tight jeans and sucking in are soon to be a thing of the past. You can’t ask for a better friend than that. Happy birthday, Meaghan!
I’m hoping to be back later today for a more serious post, but right now my children are pitching furious, sugar-induced fits in the living room as a direct result of their breakfast. And me, well, I’m reaping what I’ve sown and off to fry some eggs in the hopes of minimizing the damage.