I’ve been feeling a bit low again. To be honest, in the words of Manic Street Preachers, ‘I’m happy being sad’. I don’t want to be sad all the time, but I don’t mind wallowing in it every now and then.
My husband doesn’t agree. If there are problems, you shouldn’t get upset by then. You should find SOLUTIONS. He’s right of course. The problems are all small ones really. Just things getting on top of me. The same old mess and noise and jobs day in, day out, week in, week out.
So, with the help of the kids, my husband is going to make my life easier. One step at a time. And he’s starting with BREAKFAST. You’ve got to start somewhere.
Breakfast in our house is a bit of a marathon. The boys have big appetites and the whole process seems to take forever and involves me repeatedly going into the kitchen to get more and more food and drink.
This is what they have:
Boy 1 – four Weetabix and/ or Oatibix – in two pairs, each pair with 8 fl oz of milk (heated up in the microwave for one minute and 10 seconds) and a teaspoon of sugar. Plus two cups of warm milk to drink – heated up separately for 40 seconds each.
Boy 2 – large bowl of Cheerios and milk with a few other cereals thrown in as ‘surprises’, a cup of warm milk and THREE Rice Krispie bars.
Little girl – world’s tiniest bowl of Weetos mixed with Coco Pops and Lacto-free milk with a cup of orange juice and sometimes a Rice Krispie bar.
As you can see, they are all different and there is an awful lot of microwaving of milk going on, plus rinsing of bottles for recycling, rinsing of bowls etc etc.
So from now on… the boys have to make their own breakfasts. On day 1, my eldest, who has eaten Weetabix all his life, ate a bowl of Coco Pops with cold milk, because it’s easier. On day 2, he ate his Oatibix, but spilled crumbs everywhere and put a wet spoon in the sugar. But he’s doing it. And he isn’t complaining. And I’m getting a tiny break. Well, I would be, if he didn’t make such a mess. But we need to see it through. We’ve started so we’ll finish.
And my younger son is getting his own Cheerios, although sadly his ‘surprise’ isn’t a surprise any more.
So there was just one more hurdle to cross.
About a year ago, my daughter shouted ‘I want B. A. aaaaaargh’ and did a comedy pirate accent with a comedy pirate wink and arm thing. This was quite funny the first time. It then became the accepted way of asking for a Rice Krispie bar (or three). No please necessary. My younger two would just sit there and shout this until I went and got the B. A. Rs.
The B. A. Rs. were in a very high cupboard so they had no choice but to ask for them – although the pirate voice and the lack of a ‘please’ weren’t obligatory. So my husband has taken a stand. He has SORTED THE CUPBOARDS OUT. Now the kids can reach the B. A. Rs, so they are never allowed to ask for them again.
So that should save me some time and hassle in the morning. Maybe I can even get up slightly later? So I can cheer up a bit.
But, do you know what? Much as I moan about it, I’m going to miss that breakfast. It showed my kids needed me. Getting their own is a step towards independence for them and childless old-age for me.