Ode to Pumpkin Waffles

A typical morning around here begins at 5:30.  I'm the first one awake, and my son follows. He needs to be on the bus at 6:53 (well you know, so says the schedule).  My hubby's work schedule varies, and we homeschool our daughter.  So, we are a bit more flexible on the rising time of those two.  Let's just say it's different every week.

Anyway, back to my son and I.  I typically pad around in my p.j.'s waking the house up, and packing my son's lunch.  While he showers, I turn the computer on, and click to my Google Reader reading list to see what's new.  My morning newspaper, if you will.

Rushed breakfasts are not my son's thing.  He likes to linger over the comics.  So, it has been a stretch --since he started public school this year-- to get him to sit down and eat breakfast on a school day.  Even when there is time.  His mind is already whirring a mile a minute, and

he. just. can't.

However, the other day, he happened to mention that he loved the frozen, store-bought cinnamon-toast-waffles that I had grabbed for the first week of school (when I felt at a loss). I mulled that over a little, and thought it had to be cheaper in the big scheme of things to go buy a new waffle iron (we wore out our old one), and make waffles for him.   I was excited.  I could whip up all kinds of yummy waffles, and freeze them, and he could pull them out and toast them whenever he wanted one.  They'd be great to grab for the walk to the bus stop. Right?

So here's the rest of my thought process:

* After finding a new waffle iron on-line, I gave a big pitch to hubby to pick one up where they were in stock -- at the store near his office.

* Yesterday, I investigated recipes.

* Last night, hubby brought the home waffle iron.

* I read the manual. (This may be the first time EVER.)  Knowing Son has delayed starting time for school, I planned to get up (anyways) at my 5:30 alarm, and start waffling.

* My morning was productive.  I did all of the usual stuff (meaning I read your blogs), had a yogurt -- even made crock pot lasagna.  Then, on to the waffles.  Pumpkin waffles.  I was almost giddy, just knowing they were going to be SO GOOD.

Son comes downstairs, takes a couple-bites sample of a waffle, lays it on the table, and retreats to his room to wrap up some homework before school.  He'll be back, I think to myself.  The time for departure approaches, so I say to my son, "Better go grab some breakfast and enjoy it before school."  His reply?  "I already ate."  "Two bites!" I say.  "I'm not really hungry," he says.

And then... And then... OUCH!!!

That was me.  Biting my tongue.  Holding back that big speech that I had already given him yesterday about eating a good breakfast.  Walking away and hearing this in my head, "It's not about you."  I know it was God.  He's been teaching me this lately.

 

I am always and forever learning (and never perfecting) the lesson that so far is the hardest for me to learn in this raising of a teenage boy.  It's not always about me.  (I know, you might want to sit down for this.)  I'm (slowly) learning to keep all of most of some of my opinions to myself.  I'm learning (all over again from toddlerhood and the terrible twos) to pick my battles.

As I sat down and ate two-maybe-three pumpkin waffles, I thought, "This one was not worth fighting."

And so, if you have time tomorrow morning, stop by for a frozen pumpkin waffle.  I'll pop it in the toaster for you!

Afterthought:  I'm seriously re-thinking my idea to purchase a blender (which I've never owned) to make some amazing breakfast smoothies.  Just sayin'.  Maybe not.

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