More Bullets.

And, in a stunning display of “la la la I’m not listening to the predominant news stories on my feed right now” I offer you this semi-holiday-themed bullet list:

  • The Who is currently on the pot, humming loudly. This has nothing to do with the holiday upcoming, but he does seem to be humming “Jingle Bells.” So, there’s that.
  • The Giant wasn’t nearly as crowded as you might have expected at 5pm on the day before the first forecasted winter storm and two days before Thanksgiving. And they weren’t sold out of anything that I needed. Thanks for coming through for me in the 11th hour, Giant.
  • Many profs cancelled classes today. I did not. But we did play Cards Against Humanity and called it a lesson on sentence structure, diction, and knowing the appropriate language for your audience.
  • I felt a little bit of anxiety as I picked The Who up from his extended day care today. This is the same place where he spends three mornings a week before PM kindergarten, but because his school is closed for conferences, he spent the entire day for the first time. I reminded myself that I left him for longer periods at a younger age at his last school and that helped. Still. It seems I have gotten out of the habit of having him in one place for seven straight hours. Just in time for, like, the rest of his life of full-time school.
  • This is the first year that I have not made (or been served) turkey for Thanksgiving (unless you count that one tragic Thanksgiving where my grandfather decided to dispense with tradition entirely and serve pea soup.) Coincidentally, this is the first year that The Who has even given the menu a second thought. “But it’s called Turkey Day. You can’t serve chicken!” And yet, I am.
  • When The Who was born, six years ago on Thanksgiving Day, my labor nurse said, “He’ll have a birthday on Thanksgiving every six years. So, on his 6th birthday, it will be Thanksgiving again!” Pfft. He’ll never be six, I thought. Um. Yeah.
  • There will be succotash because it’s m*’s tradition. There will be sweet potatoes because it’s mine. There will also be chilled, jellied cranberry sauce, still looking like the can once it’s on the plate. Because yum.
  • M* has been away for two nights on business. In her absence, I have made 4 dozen meatballs, 4 dozen mini cookie cupcakes, 5 cups of blue buttercream, and a mess.
  • Tomorrow: birthday cake procuring, house tidying, guest-room prepping, loud music listening, and a whole lot of gratitude for a whole lot of things.
"To get a more vibrant hue, use gel food coloring." (So says Liv, the cake lady.)

“To get a more vibrant hue, use gel food coloring.” (So says Liv, the cake lady.)

Bullets.

  • Too few hours of sleep and too many hours of cooking/dishes today. Left me feeling a little like the dishrag I kept slung over my shoulder most of the day.
  • Perhaps, finally, “Simply Lemonade” is the [expensive, non-shelf stable] alternative to my old, beloved, irreparably changed Vitamin Water. (Damn you, Glaceau. No, fuck you. That’s how much I loved a cold, old-formula bottle of Tropical Citrus that I can no longer enjoy because they went and changed the sugar to Stevia. Grody.)
  • Hay Day. It’s the stupidest time-suck ever. And I totally love it. There is something so insanely satisfying about harvesting wheat with the sickle. Why? Why do we love to swipe screens with our fingers in order to “milk” bloated, mooing cartoon cows?
  • Speaking of sickles — my raincoat makes me look like the Grim Reaper. Not necessarily what you want to see approaching the elementary school midday.
  • I continue to be shocked and awed by The Who’s Visual and Language Arts abilities. The kid’s penmanship is almost better than mine, he can read upside down (so we can see the pictures, obvs) and his block letters are the envy of all who see them.
  • For those playing along at home, the bacon-and-egg muffins were a flop; seems he’s not a fan of the baked egg texture. Homemade peanut butter granola bar seems to be a winner, but he’d enjoy more chocolate chips per square inch. Who the hell wouldn’t?
  • I’d be in bed right now if teleportation were a thing.
  • And now, for your perseverance and diligence, some photos:
    Hay Who. Your penmanship's kinda awesome.

    Hay Who. Your penmanship’s kinda awesome.

    Playing cashier at the school book fair, which opened today.

    Playing cashier at the school book fair, which opened today.

    Orange Jeans.

    Orange Jeans.

    Egg muffins. Delicious-looking, right? Whatever. I like them.

    Egg muffins. Delicious-looking, right? Whatever. I like them.

    Not enough chips. Apparently.

    Not enough chips. Apparently.

    All the moms and grandparents, looking jauntily and somewhat skeptically to the side, a la the opening credits of the Brady Bunch. Also: Hebrew. A la totally not anything even remotely related to the Brady Bunch.

    All the moms and grandparents, looking jauntily and somewhat skeptically to the side, a la the opening credits of the Brady Bunch. Also: Hebrew. A la totally not anything even remotely related to the Brady Bunch.

Breakfast.

Houston, we’ve got a problem. And its name is Oreos For Breakfast.

Somehow, what happened is that The Who wakes up on his own now, nukes his pre-prepared (by me) chocolate milk, and then settles in for some indeterminate amount of tv with his milk and a snack. For a while, this was fine. He was sated and I got to sleep a little later. Win-win. But lately, instead of snacking on Pirate’s Booty or Trader Joe’s fruit strips (neither exactly nutritious, but both passable as far as I was concerned) he’s been opting for Nilla Wafers and Oreos. So this means that by the time I am up and trying to motivate him to get dressed for school, he’s cranky and lethargic and then I’m sending him off to school with no fortification. That’s some stellar parenting I’m doing right there.

I feel like I need to pause here to briefly discuss our decisions around food and choices. The Who, while a lover of sweets, is also a lover of fruits (mostly berries) and most animal proteins (you might recall that he counts frog legs and salmon among his favorite dinners.) He has always been able to limit himself when it comes to food and rarely (if ever?) gets a tummy ache from overeating or too many sweets. He can be offered dessert on the same plate as dinner and eat it all in equal parts and after Halloween this year, he willingly offered up all his candy to be shared with us and, just as he has after all previous Halloweens, basically forgot about his candy bucket the next day. So, I do believe we are doing something right in terms of choices and allowances overall. But, that said, when it comes to breakfast, we’re doing it all wrong.

He’d eat eggs and bacon and toast and cheese any day of the week if I got up and made it for him, but my dilemma is this: how do I get him to independently make his own breakfast food that is not made of fail?

My first effort is going to be egg muffins and I will cross my fingers that the texture isn’t something that will turn him off. (It’s one of the reasons smoothies don’t work, so don’t bother suggesting them; he doesn’t even really like milkshakes that much.) My plan is to make a bunch and freeze them individually so he can just microwave them himself. Next, I’ll try homemade granola bars or protein bars — the benefit of homemade being that I can control both the sugar and the ingredients so that it’s something he likes. (I’m not a fan of the Truvia in this recipe, so I may experiment a little.)

Do you have any other great ideas for healthy breakfasts that The Who can prepare himself? I’ve got to turn this morning Oreo trainwreck around.