Category Archives: Mom at Home

Thoughts and feelings on my life at home.

Extreme Potty-Training Makeover

Oh, the things we do for poop…sigh…

On the surface I looked like I had the PT stage down.  Selah started wanting to sit on the potty at 15 months and by 18 months was potty trained.  I admitted to everyone that I hated it.  She was tiny. We’re talking about a child who walked at 9 months, but didn’t wear 9 month clothes until she was 18. It was a pain that she was so regularly insistent and had to be lifted on the potty until she grew.
She did backtrack for a few months out of pure confusion.  You see, when mommy was doing nothing but stand over the potty and puke for months, she assumed that she should switch to that method too. Obviously, it caused more accidents, not to mention awkward stares in public restrooms when people heard this tiny little chica and her perfect imitation of mommy’s upchuck.  Luckily, my morning stopped… the DAY Jacob was born.  Three days later she went back to full time panties and never looked back.
Jacob was a little bit more work. Unlike Selah, I did actually have to show some initiative and put some work into PTing him, but he was still in underwear before his second birthday.  Easy breezy. I knew it wasn’t the norm. I knew that I was handed two children who were blessed with an uncanny early awareness of their bowels. And anytime I heard someone say “Ask Talitha, she REALLY knows how to potty train ’em.” I’d cringe to my core.  I’ve readily admitted from the beginning that I am not a PTing genius and that one of these offspring of mine would eventually prove it.

ENTER Lucas into the scene.   As with my other kids, I started exposing them to the potty early but it was clear that this one had absolutely zero interest.  He was over two before he accidentally peed in it. He had absolutely no recognition of it, though, since he would readily pee on any chair, the couch, bed or person he happened to be sitting on.  at 2 1/2 i figured I’d done a good job at being patient and humble about my true inability to ‘make’ my kid take to the PTing.  So I started more in earnest. For about 2 weeks. Then stopped…. and that has been the cycle for the last year.
Now here we are at 3 1/2.  We have tried complimenting,  rewarding, timers, stickers, charts, calling grandma to brag, calling Papi at work, naked, clothed, strapping him to the potty in front of the TV, reading books on the potty, locked in the bathroom, staying home, going to IKEA as rewards, going for ice cream for rewards, chocolate, books, positive reinforcement, negative reinforcement… and unfortunately too much screaming, crying and hiding in the corner… from me, not him.  I expected him to take longer, and by that way I think I subconsciously meant ‘No way in hell past his third birthday.’
I keep thinking “Thank you Lord for this opportunity to learn humility. Have I got it yet?”  I have moments where I think that I’m losing my mind. That my brain cells are literally washing down the drain with the poop that I spray off of his underwear… again.

Frst of all, the kid clearly has a pattern. He doesn’t pee in his pants. He’s been pee-trained since last spring. It’s all #2, and he couldn’t care less. The child will walk around for hour, perfectly content to stink up the whole house and be uncomfortable. He’ll get rashes and still hide it. He’ll poop in his pants less than 5 minutes after I put him on the potty.  He.  Just.  Doesn’t.  Care.    Letting him run around the house naked was the closest we got to being successful. He would hold it and not poop on the floor, but would also go digging though drawers to find something to poop in. I had to hide every pair of underwear or pants from him because he would literally go find oen and put it on to poop in.  While he wouldn’t have accidents naked, he would wait until I was forced to put him in something to go somewhere, or he would wait and poop during his nap or at night. Not on the potty.

His pattern is  pretty predictable and I decided it’s time for me to manipulate it.  Every morning that I try to go to the Y after dropping Jacob off at school, he poops in his pants and the childcare staff there hate me for it. Aha!  So mid morning is pretty predictable, right?  He also has a fantastic habit of going in his pants right about 2:58 in the afternoon, right in time to make getting in the car and picking up both kids on time a logistical nightmare. Sadly, I’ve realized over the last few weeks of trying more consistently to get him poop-trained that this is a very consistent occurrence.
So on January 28th when the boy was officially 3 1/2, mommy decided to get extreme.  I know, it’s crazy. I went and bought a package of suppositories, drove to my moms house to retrieve my extra child gate and went home to crack down on the crap.  The next morning I headed straight home from taking Jake to school, put Eden down for her nap and headed to the bathroom with Lucas. I talked to him about being a big boy and pooping on the potty. I put up the gate in the bathroom door and sat ont he floor with him to read some books.  I was a little worried about using the suppositories to get him to poop. I’m aware that this is extreme, as is locking him in the bathroom naked.  But I finally decided that I had  to take the Austin Powers approach and say “Who does number 2 work for???”
I did use the suppositories twice a day for those first 3 days.  I thought long and hard about it first.  Many people have suggested Metamucil or some other laxative, but with the way those go through the digestive track iit can really cause a lot of abdominal pain and discomfort.  The suppository will take 1/2 an hour or more for the medicine to really desolve but often will give the urge to push it out long before that.  They are safe to use up to 10 days and I had no intention of using them that long. And they’re really tiny. Every time I gave him one we talked abut the medicine helping the poop come out of his bottom and he never seemed too bothered by it. He didn’t like it, but didn’t complain any more than eating broccoli. That’s healthy, right?  So here was the breakdown

Days 1-3:  Pooped at 10:45 and 3:02. Both times within 10 minutes of the suppository, with mommy sitting on the floor playing together until he decided he felt the urge and got on the potty by himself.

Day 4: Locked him in the bathroom both times for 15 minutes by himself first to play, telling him he had some time to try and see if he could poop before we used the medicine. Came back, used the medicine. Pooped within 5 minutes. Both times.

Day 5: Put him in the bathroom in the AM and he pooped within the 15 minutes without the medicine.  In the afternoon gave him longer, but still didn’t go. Used the sup. and he pooped before I was out of the bathroom again.

Day 6: BOth times played for a few minutes and then called me to come look at his poop in the potty.

Day 7 : miserable day, I missed both poop times and it was a disaster. Read about it HERE

Day 8: Even worse. He pooped his pants twice before noon, once being at Chickfila with a friend who at least has 2 boys herself and gets it.  The moms in the playground with looks of horror and their cute little toddlers did not.  I publicly apologize here for letting my huge 3 1/2 year old stink it up in there. I lost it and called a friend bawling like a baby because I’m just. so. over. it.  She advised me not to cave and put him back in diapers. To just chalk it up to a bad 2 days and get back on track. So I went home and decided to spend some special time with him just playing and not talking/focusing on it.  Put him in the bathroom after picking the older two up from school and he pooped like a champ. My hero.

We’ve had a couple of accidents since then but we’re doing pretty good.  My ultimate goal is to have him PTed for my lovely mother-in-law who is graciously watching him for the long weekend next week so that I can go to Illinois with my mom.  I think I may send the baby gate for her, but I think he’ll do it.

I’ve discovered the key is to not make a big deal out the accidents. This felt absolutely impossible with now nasty they were, until a wise friend said, “Just plan on the accidents and prepare for how you want to handle them, instead of focusing on avoiding them.” If I am expecting them, it doesn’t feel like a failure or a shock. I’ve stopped the daily wondering of if “we’re done” and just decided to focus on “we’re at today.” It just may take another few weeks of timing them to catch him.   I’ve stopped telling him about the crappiness of the poop. Meaning “See how stinky it is? And dirty? Doesn’t it feel gross?” He’s heard it enough. He gets it. I think I let it cross the line into being discouraging because I’ve said it too much. Instead for the last couple of accidents I’ve jsut said “Well lets go clean it up. Ib et you’ll make it to the potty next time.” I can see the relief on his little face that he doesn’t have to worry about doing something wrong. It’s done. We’re moving on to the next one to try and catch it…

So that’s where we’re at.  He knows I’ll use the medicine if I have to but he hasn’t needed it. Ultimately, his accidents have been when he’s playing especially hard or I’ve totally forgotten the time to remind him. HEck, yesterday he even went running in the bathroom on his own to go, and it wasn’t just pee! We’re getting there, one poop at a time.  But I can officially use this as proof that I am NOT the person to look to for potty training advice and tricks.  I can certainly now offer a more sympathetic ear and shoulder to cry on though. Seriously, as my sweet, loving mother said to me last week when I called her at my whits end, “Shit happens. you just gotta be patient with it.”  That’s the way it is.



Filed under Family, Mom at Home, Motherhood, parenting, Uncategorized

Don’t Call Your Father a Fairy!!

Gosh my dad thought he was so clever saying that whenever someone lost a tooth in our house!  Now, we are talking about a man who wore pink button-down dress shirts in the middle all through the 80’s and 90’s when it wasn’t quite as now.   He claimed that any man with 10 kids was man enough to pull off pink. And he did it pretty well. Often.

Selah lost her 3rd tooth last weekend.   We don’t say anything about a fairy, really. Never had to.  The first tooth she lost I just told her to put it under her pillow without explanation.  Our intention was to just do the dollar thing and let her think whatever, without comment from us.  The next morning she was amazed at the transformation of her tooth.

She simply believes that a tooth, when properly positioned under the ‘losers’ pillow, and when said ‘loser’ completes a FULL nights sleep without incident…such a tooth somehow turns into a dollar. Not is traded for, taken by some mystical being… but in actuality is completely transformed to American currency.  Ahhhh-mazing, isn’t it?

She stopped asking about the mechanics of the ‘change’ when I explained that Yes, adults do in fact know how it happens but from the moment we tell a child it will never ‘happen’ for that child again. Then she started asking how old she will be when she loses her last tooth so she can ask again. I told her 38 years old…

So, on Sunday morning I was up at 4am watching, re-watching this online tutorial and folding a poor tortured $1 bill into a beautiful little heart to really wow her this time. I mean, she worked HARD on this tooth. It was lose for 10 months. Yes, 10.   It took me about 30 minutes and I was back in bed at 5.  Just in time to rest for 30 minutes before the young one woke to nurse. Again.

Unfortunately, daughter was COMPLETELY unimpressed by the gorgeous fold. She didn’t even acknowledge it and when I asked her if she noticed anything special about her dollar all she could say was that it was crumpled and folded up a lot to fit in her silver ‘tooth’ box. Next time, I’m going back to sleep.

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Filed under Candid Kid-versations, Family, Mom at Home


When I was pregnant with Selah, first munchkin of our tribe, I remember an old friend of my mother’s visiting for the summer.  Now this woman is one of the most outspoken, opinionated bold mommas you could ever happen upon.  Basically an older, slightly crunchier version of me.  At the time I was floating in the pool, gorgeous prego belly exposed to the sun.  Complete bliss.  She was interrogating me on my plans for how I would parent.  Would I have a home-birth, would I go back to work… and the inevitable… would I breastfeed? 

For me there was no question.  There’s no doubt that it’s the best thing for my baby.  I personally couldn’t imagine messing with bottles in the middle of the night when I can just break out the boob.  The idea of ‘running out’ of formula sounded like a pain in the butt.  No way, I’m way too lazy for that. Not to mention the fact that I’m seriously too  cheap to pay for formula when breast-milk is free.  I’m not judging anyone who chose differently.  For me it was never even a question. 

So, clearly the answer was an immediate yes.  Then the next question was “How long will you breastfeed?”  That one hadn’t really come to mind yet.  I thought about it for a second.  I have vague memories of this woman being the epitome of mother earth mixed with the whole “hear me roar” thing.  Super power mom.  I know she nursed her babies longer than I probably would.  So I asked how long she did.  She had 6 children (I think that’s right) but she said that the one she nursed longest she had to wean eventually because the dentist said his teeth were getting cavities.  I looked at her in shock…

Me: Well how old was he?

 Supermom: I think he was in first grade.

Me:  Are you kidding me? (insert dumbfounded look of shock)

Supermom: Well, How long do YOU think you should breastfeed? ( justifiably defensive at my rudeness)

Me: Well I hope I stop before her teeth rot out! (paddling off to the deep end with brain reeling)

Now I think of this exchange often.  First of all, I’m still embarrassed at my rudeness.   (K and L, please don’t stop reading, I love your mom!)  Sometimes I think I should carry around a shoehorn for how often I put my foot in my mouth.  Yes, it was a bit extreme but  was it really that bad to have extended breastfeeding?

I’m ashamed to admit that I nursed Selah to 9 months and then weaned out of laziness.  Not saying that  9 months is ‘too short’.  I just know in my heart that it was for me that I weaned her.  Even at 9 months I would often have unexpected leakage issues.  I was working part time and forced to pump in the car.  It was embarrassing.  One night a single guy at church pointed at my shirt and said “Um,  you’re ahhh, ummm..”.  When I looked down and saw the left side of my shirt drenched I knew then and there that I was done with it.  Selah was an independent baby and didn’t seem to care.  She’s not scared, although I wonder if the finger sucking issue is connected.  I’m not getting down on myself.  I just know that now I would do it differently.  I have to be honest and say that my judgement on Supermom caused me to overreact and fear being seen as an ‘over exuberant’ nurser. I didn’t understand it. 

  With Jacob we went to 15 months, mainly because of his huge list of food allergies.  It was quite convenient to always have something for him, ummm… ‘on hand’, so to speak.   So when, at 8 months, I found out Lucas was on the way I kept it up as long as I could.  At six months into my pregnancy the cramps I was having during breastfeeding started to worry my OB (having had both Selah and Jake on the early side, with preterm issues).  So we weaned and he never looked back.  Ironic is the hindsight.  Maybe if I had kept up the breastfeeding I wouldn’t have been pregnant for 42 weeks that time! Who knew…

So here I am.  Lucas.  Last month we got down to nursing once every couple of days.  I got irritated with the inconsistency, and the fact that my nips were starting to be tender.  I decided he was done.  And he didn’t protest much either.  I was a bit shocked that we went all the way to 18 months without even thinking about it being any different.  I thought about Supermom.   I could see it.  Just keep going and don’t worry about it.  Somehow doesn’t seem like a big deal now. 

Well, that was last month.  We went about 4 weeks without nursing and suddenly I’m faced with the fact that my child actually has become UNweaned.  Last week he got a cold and out of the blue he was begging to nurse.  No big deal.  It was probably soothing.  I know my body will still make milk for months.  So, nurse we did.  And it really isn’t a big deal. 

He’s back to nursing just in the morning when he wakes up.  I never offer to, but he’s asking every morning.  To be honest, I just don’t see the point in denying it.  I look at Selah who is in kindergarten, and Jacob at three.  Nope, I love me some Supermom but I still don’t think I can do that.  On the other hand, what’s the big deal? 

I think the only issue I would have is if breastfeeding is for your identity.  Trying to prove something.  Or some neediness on the part of Mom.  I don’t think that was why Supermom did it.  I think it just kinda worked for her and wasn’t a big deal. 

On the other hand, I have seen a mom make it a big deal.  Following her 4 year old around at the park offering to nurse at every turn ‘just in case she wanted it’.  I mean, if the child still feels a need for it, let them ask.  If mom feels a need for it….where does that put you?  Do you need that to be important? Is it your soapbox, your identity?   That kinda doesn’t sit so well with me…

As it stands, my unexpectedly un-weaned 19 month old is welcome to keep nursing for now.  With homeschooling, working from home and general mom and wife duties, he may just see it as his best opportunity for some peace with mom. Why would I deny that?  And I have to say, it’s the only time I get a glimpse of him as a baby anymore, rather than the toddler in constant motion.  So nurse we will. Till….whenever….

I think Supermom would be proud. 

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The Next Step in Futility

For anyone who got a laugh and a tear out of my last post on Jacob, we’re onto the next step.  After all of that, the barium enema and xrays showed nothing wrong.  It’s confusing how they can see that as a good thing.  Maybe because they aren’t the ones sitting several times a day holding him while he cried out in pain, or wiping him when his rear end is bleeding.  I don’t really see anything good about all of this happening to a three year old, myself.  Jake has had blood in his stools since October. It has gone from once every 10 days to now consistently twice a day (Every time he poops). He’s in a lot of pain because of it, and has already been tested for allergies, Celiac Disease, Iritable Bowel Syndrome, Crohn’s Disease, internal hemorrhoids, hernias…  Often, when he’s hurting the most he asks, ever so sweetly through the tears, for us to take him to the hospital so they can make it better.   It’s agonizing.

We took the next step yesterday and had an appointment with a pediatric gastrointestinal specialist.  Jacob and I left at 6:45am to be there by 7:30, but I have to say it was worth it to be able to go without the other two munchkins to spar with. The kids are up by 6am every morning anyway.  Huh, and people think homeschoolers get to sleep in all of the time…

 Being one of the first appointments of the morning made the wait pretty quick.  And Dr H was all happy and chipper.  He was clearly good with children.  He had the most atrocious zoo tie on.  Jacob adored it and now wants me to make him a tie to go with his play doctor dress-up set. Dr H. asked all of his questions and seemed pretty unconcerned.  He examined Jake and ordered a colonoscopy.  Ugh…the things you hear adults saying about colonoscopies, and they’ll be doing it to this little bitty guy. 

 He kept mentioning that it was most likely just a polyp (sp?), but then said that wouldn’t cause the constant pain (and screaming, trauma, anguish…).  I highly doubt that is it.  But I have no idea what it could be. For some reason the suggestion of it kept annoying me.  Was he listening?  Did he understand how much pain my son is in at night?  Maybe I’ll send him a video of it…take pictures of the blood for proof that it’s more than ‘just a little streak here and there’….. Too much?  Yeah, I guess that’s a little dramatic of me.  It was just a bit disheartening when he wrote out the order for the colonoscopy and said to come back in three months.  Three months?  and in the meantime, what do you suggest?  You’re kidding, right?
Anyway, here’s to hoping that he’s right.  That it’s a little thing, like a polyp,  that can be fixed easily while the poor guy is under anesthesia already with scopes up his A…  Just whatever it takes for it to be done, and not three months from now.


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Rice Milk

It is so easy to make Rice Milk, yet it’s ridiculously expensive to buy.  Because we avoid  dairy in our house and soy has some side effects that aren’t the safest, I’ve been making my own rice milk.  Here’s how I do it.

RICE MILK- one quart

  • 1 c. cooked brown rice (still hot is best)
  • 4 c. warm water
  • pinch of salt
  • 1/2 t canolla or coconut oil
  • 1 t. vanilla
  • sweetener ( I use agave nectar or honey)

I start with the  rice and just enough water to cover it in the blender.  It needs to blend for quite awhile to get it as pureed as possible, and as it thickens I will add water a few splashes as a time.  Let it stand for 5 minutes so that the silt and left over pieces can settle at the bottom before straining.  I’m sure it’s done better through cheesecloth, but I use a small strainer because that’s what I have.  I strain it into my pitcher, then reprocess the left over ‘silt’ a bit with a little more watter.  Add as much water as you would like to get the consistency you like.  One cup of rice makes one quart the way I like it 🙂

Chocolate Rice Milk add 1 tbs. powdered cocoa and make sure you use sweetener.  I add it half way through the blender time.  Yummm….makes a special treat once in awhile.

 Banana Rice Milk  add 1/2 a banana and no sweetener.


I keep it in a jug identical to this, but from Walmart for $4.98.  I couldn’t find it on their website, but this one from Target costs three times as much. Take a look and go get it from Walmart. 🙂

I buy organic short grain rice in a 25 pound bag for $19.99.  It lasts us about 6 months.  At only $.80 a pound, I can make rice milk for about $.20  per 1/2 gallon.  So,  if Rice milk costs about $8 per gallon, I make about $7.50 in the 20 minutes worth of work it takes (not including the stand time).  I usually just make it from left over rice after a meal so I’m not making more dishes, wasting energy and all that jazz… 

Go try it and come back to tell me what you think!

EDITED TO ADD: Below there is a comment from the owner of this blog.  I haven’t checked it out yet but thought it looks interesting.  While I’m not a gung-ho anti-dairyist..ahem… There is some truth to milk not being the healthiest for human consumption.  Check it out for yourself.


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When Patience Wears Thin

It’s amazing how this perfect little being comes into your life.  Ten finger. Ten toes.  Eyes that steal your heart and lips that breath the most alluring sweetness. They’re enchanting.  We live for them.  Yet they try every bit of patience we have within us.

Sometimes it’s direct defiance.  In the past it’s been easy to say that Selah and Jacob are inherently good on their own.  It’s humbling when people assume that our parenting has formed these perfect little people.  Well, they’re still young to be sure.  Plenty of time to shock us.  And, they just are well behaved for the most part.  Yet still.  They have their ways of testing the limits.

 At 19 months, Lucas pushes me more than Selah or Jacob ever have.  He’s the one who’s going to test all of my parenting.  Now, I’ve never read any books on how to ‘deal with a strong willed child’.  I don’t really feel like it’s prudent to label my child as such.  Not that I judge anyone else for it.  I just don’t like defining anyone with such few words.  Are we not all, as individuals, much more complex?  Trust me, I think about it. I just try to avoid it.

I have my own way of discipline. No books really.  My instinct has always told me to diffuse the anger. To hold both of the child’s hands gently yet firmly to calm them.  To make and hold eye contact, and using a quiet low voice, say things like “This is not ok.  Acting like this is not appropriate because….Etc.  It is my job to teach you to be respectful. I cannot let you act like this. If you want to tell me something then be calm and talk in a normal voice.”  Now I tend to just keep talking in a soothing voice until the child calms.  I’ll often even ‘help them breath’ by telling them to copy me and breathing deeply while maintaining eye contact.  It seems to work.  I will notsay things like, “It’s ok. Poor baby…”  I do NOT offer bribes.  I do make it clear that if they don’t choose to calm they will have to have some time in bed or time out to calm on their own.  With most children it works wonders as they begin to listen and calm down.   And yet what they are hearing is not affirming their actions, and it’s not escalating into a full blown power struggle.

 Last Tuesday I’m convinced that I heard no less than 3 hours total of intermittent screaming of “No! No! No!”.  Sometimes I wonder how he even breaths!  Lucas gets completely hysterical, major meltdown. Eyes bulging out and veins popping in his little head. His cheeks flushed, his tiny fists clenched while snot and tears mingle together to cover every bit of his face turning him into a child I’m not quite sure I know.    And YES, my 19 month old was being defiant.  He was screaming no because he was not getting what he wanted. Namely, to open the oven, the knife drawer and the refrigerator.  He was not injured, hungry or in a dirty diaper.  He was PISSED.  

After several minutes or talking to him, he went to the crib to be alone.  Several times.   We went around in circles in this disastrous waltz of defiance. It burned up all my reserves or patience and by the end of the day I was ready to stick my head in the oven.  When time came to buckle them all in to the car, I breathed a sigh of relief.  Only 5 minutes and Travis would be in the car.  I wouldn’t be so out numbered.  And can you believe how brilliant a toddler can be?  I had no more than backed the car out of the drive way to go down the hill and he starts squealing “Popi! Choo Choo!”  Now, if that child is smart enough to know that the only reason we EVER turn that way out of the driveway is to go pick up his father… certainly he understands enough when I’m talking to him.

Of course, everything was joy and roses once Popi was in the car.  I wonder if he believes me when I say we had a tough day because some alter-egos in the form of angels take over their bodies when we get him in the evening.  I can’t blame him for wondering what what I mean by a “tough day”.   This night was no exception. 

So you can imagine why I felt the slightest bit justified the next morning when Popi made the acquaintance of ‘Lucas the Terrible’ over breakfast, and was compelled to put him in his  crib after a long bout of ‘No’s’.  After about 5 minutes in the crib the screaming from the bedroom stopped, so we headed in for the ‘follow up’ to talk to him.  Travis went in first and said “Can I hold you now?”.  That little stinker yelled “no!” and ran to the other side of the crib where I stood.  So, I offered my arms and got the same response.  Then he actually ran to the back of the crib against the wall.  Literally he turned his back to us, trying to peek out of the corner of his eye to see what our response would be.  I’m not sure what he was imagining.   We simply said.  “Lucas, it’s your choice to have a bad attitude, but that means you’re choosing to stay alone.” And there we left him for a few more minutes… and that’s how that day went, too.

So now afew days later,  the two step with the ‘tude has slowed to a waltz.  I haven’t seen “The Terrible” rear it’s head in a few days.  It’s interesting how they can all be so different, yet they all know how to find that last bit of patience you have and stomp all over it…best way to teach us to have more, right?

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The Most Important Meal…

I’ve gotta say, I just hate it when they call it that.  Sure it is, but what mom really has time for breakfast?  And what mom doesn’t struggle with how to get a healthier one for her kids that doesn’t have the morning wrecked or her waking up at the butt-crack…you know.

I’ve got my kids used to the idea that the main purpose for food is that it is nourishment.  Fuel for their bodies to keep them going, and tasting great is a lovely side effect.  They know better than to beg for something else for breakfast, because they get what they get.  I do often give them an option between two things, but it’s off of a pretty short list.  A list that is simple, healthy and easy for me to maintain.

So, my breakfast list is mostly like this

  • Homemade Granola
  • Homemade grapenuts
  • Frozen Spelt Waffles ( I make 40 at a time and freeze them)
  • Some kind of bar I’ve got made up (right now they are Carrot Honey Squares)
  • A boiled egg and a piece of toast
  • Oatmeal
  • On a rare occasion, scrambled eggs with spinach or something

Now, you’ll notice that I don’t ‘cook’ breakfast.  Mornings can get pretty harried around here.  I think most households are that way. My kids wake begging for their breakfast and the world could fall off it’s axis if they have to wait for me to cook oatmeal or scramble eggs. On the occasions where I sense an unexpected undercurrent of patience I play with fire… or the stove, I guess. 

We do buy cereal once in a while.  And when I do it’s a big stock up.  We pretty much only buy Cheerios and Raisin Bran.  I will wait until they are buy-one-get-one-free and even then only buy if I have coupons for $1 off or something, bringing the cost down to about what it would cast me to make my cereals.  I’ve been known to walk out with eight boxes of cereal for $5.  That was a happy day.

Over the next few days I’m going to post the recipes for my breakfast stuffs. They do take some time.  I think I took 3 hours the other day to make enough to last for 3-4 weeks.  But not too bad of a time investment in the long run, if you consider what a pain it would be to spend 30 minutes every morning making something. Or settling for feeding them Pop Tarts… don’t they wish!

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