Breakfast, the most important meal of the day
The morning routine. As I sit here with my first cup of coffee (a habit l finally started around my fortieth birthday), and watch the kids wander around finding breakfast, shoes, and backpacks, I feel the nostalgia of how our routine changed over the last twenty or so years.
Pre-kid days, although I hardly remember them, were filled with silence, cereal, and Diet Coke. We woke, dressed for work, sometimes packed a lunch, walked the dogs, and hit the ground running—even sharing a cell phone those first few years of our professional lives. Once blessed with a baby, my husband took the reins on morning feedings starting with bottles, then baby cereal, and graduating to actual breakfast. I encouraged their bonding time while I took a few moments to prepare for teaching and the dreaded babysitter drop off. Our oldest hoodlum has always had a flare for drama, even beginning in early infancy.
Baby #2 changed things dramatically. I quit teaching. We moved homes, and we changed our television subscription from cable to satellite service. All three events helped shape our new morning routine. As a stay-at-home mom, I woke early with the baby and bottle. Most times with baby and bottle in tow, I collected a toddler breakfast, usually with sippy cup, fruit, and eggo waffle. The best mornings happened when baby woke happy, bottle time was snuggly, and toddler time was chatty. My husband sometimes had the opportunity to help with breakfast, but his job had changed in title and location, so most of the time it was mommy-baby-toddler breakfast. My daily goal was a clean kitchen, clean baby faces, and a clean mommy by nine in the morning, and sometimes that was a lofty goal. Weekends provided a different opportunity. Without work on the docket, we constantly hoped for a few precious extra minutes of sleep. Luckily, by the time my oldest hoodlum was about two-and-a-half, I figured out a way. I placed her sippy cup and bowl of cereal on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, and set the TV to the Disney Channel (what an invention!) before we went to sleep. When she woke, she only needed to push power on the TV, and open the refrigerator to begin her Saturday morning feast and cartoon entertainment. Boom! Twenty extra minutes of sleep before baby really started asking for his breakfast. I’ll admit, I thought I was a genius. Sometimes, I still do.
Baby #3 and kindergarten added more “excitement." My oldest hoodlum started kindergarten at age five, leaving me home with a three-year old, and a six-month old. Those mornings were only successful if the previous night’s routine was also successful. We laid out the outfit, backpack, and lunch for my school kid, prepped sippy cups, fruit, and Cheerios for my medium kid, and organized formula in bottles for my baby kid. It helped that my oldest kid loved school from the beginning, so waking her to get started was never an issue. However, I distinctly remember wishing for a fairy godmother to watch over my littles so I could run her to school and not have to wake them. They usually loaded up in pajamas with baggies of Cheerios and a bottle for the field trip. The day started early, and breakfast was on the go.
When all the kids enrolled in school, the game evolved again. Every single morning we met at the counter for breakfast—all five of us. By this time, we had moved to Decatur, and had achieved our goal of living, working, and playing in the same town. My husband and I both worked in Decatur, so I placed a big importance on the morning send off. While we usually raced to shower, dress, gather our supplies, and prepare breakfast, for at least ten minutes every morning we sat together to begin the day. It was hectic, but I look back on those mornings with a smile. And, every year by the time May rolled around, we were dragging. I think some mornings we ate pretzels, peanut butter, and washed it down with crystal light. School years became a marathon, and everyday the marathon began with breakfast. We plowed through year after year, entering middle school, and then high school—which is brings us to now.
This year, I have a senior in high school, a sophomore in high school, a seventh grader in middle school, and a rolling alarm clock. The first alarm sounds at 4:45 a.m. for the football player, the second alarm sounds at 5:45 a.m for the cross country runner, and the last alarm sounds at 6:45 for the senior. Breakfast consists of a sandwich out the door or a protein drink in the pocket, coupled with a quick hug and “text me” as they each start their day on their own. Carpools and driver’s licenses are just about as amazing as the Disney Channel was back in the day, and again I congratulate myself with my forward thinking and planning.
Most days, my husband and I are left with our coffee and the Today Show just staring at each other. We actually watch the news, and discuss current events as we snuggle with our precious pups for a few cozy minutes. But, it feels weird. It feels weird that our kids’ days start before our days start. It feels weird that they prepare their own breakfast, gather their own supplies, and choose their own clothing—sometimes after even washing their own clothing the day before. Breakfast has been a consistent reset for our family everyday for years, and now it’s turning into date night? I never imagined this stage of the breakfast routine. It got here pretty fast, but as my hero, Ferris Bueller, said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it.” And, I refuse to miss it.