I’m standing over a hot stove at 9 o’clock at night. Having finished a 90 minute killer (I cannot emphasize that enough) workout two hours ago I’m still in wet, sweaty clothes and I’m kinda having some angst–okay–I’m cranky and don’t know why, that’s what I call angst. I want a shower but if you workout from 5:30 to 7:00 p.m. and you have little kids, first priority better be to get the kids topped off and tucked in, right? (I’m sure that’s why my honey disappeared to the shower, without a word, as soon as we walked in the door.)
Anyway, the hot stove, where I’m standing watching my masterpieces cooking. I finished with the hard-boiled eggs (my breakfast), the kids are fed, showered and in bed, and I am halfway through a two day batch of pancakes. Not just any old flapjack, these puppies are my own personal version of zucchini bread pancakes, heavy on the cinnamon. Don’t go looking for the recipe, I pretty much wing it everytime, it’s easy when you’re a domestic goddess. (Something like this; a zucchini bread recipe with a quarter of the sugar or less and no more than 2 eggs, half the zucchini and enough milk to make it pancake viscosity, your welcome.)
So I told you I’m cold, actually shivering, right? Because I am still dripping sweat from that workout. In fact when you sweat from your shins, and your wrists (along with everywhere else) you know you put it all out there. My running pants look like I peed them and my shirt looks like I was recently in a water fight.
This intense workout may have fueled some of my bad attitude, I am hangry and already did my post workout food at the gym, there is no more food for me tonight, and I am already feeling the muscle fatigue in my shoulders, arms, and quads, this all might be the root of my icky, cranky, feeling. Still I convinced myself that this will be worth it tomorrow. Then, as I’m flipping them over and looking at the glorious breakfast for the kids tomorrow I can’t help but feel a little of my power-grump slipping away. Ha.
Tomorrow is going to be awesome, except for how sore my arms and shoulders and quads are going to be. Just think though, clean kitchen and hot homemade pancakes slathered with coconut butter and a little agave (spoiled ass kids).
This is how I get through the school year always looking like super-mom, [frozen] pancakes, [frozen] blackberry muffins, [frozen] buckwheat waffles…yeah except I don’t cop to the frozen part. I just let the kids tell people about their yummy breakfast and bask in the glory of my deception. That sounds bad huh?
Here’s the worst one, and I’m a little surprised in admitting it, I sometimes scramble up eggs and cook them omelet style but without folding them in half, those get cut in half and turned into egg sandwiches the next day or three…
See the truth of it is that I don’t have time and there’s not enough payout to be domestic-ish with every meal but I refuse to succumb to the laziness of not feeding my kids in a way that teaches them to like real food.
Truthfully none of us need one more pancake recipe to “pin”, neither does the blog world need one more article on domesticness or recipes, just go do it. We got this.
Now to go get that shower…my husband is asleep, he feels no guilt over that, he’d tell me there’s no rest for the wicked…