Ah, the weekend. That lazy, cozy time when many people are up frying bacon and eggs. Not I! Partly because with three little kids, that lazy cozy time consists of rubbing your eyes while little hands are banging on your bedroom door at 6 a.m., telling you it's time to wake up. I'd gladly give up the bacon anyway, for another hour's sleep.
Saturday the kids and I were going out to lunch, which posed a challenge. I could take them where they wanted to go (always read: McDonalds) and either bring something to eat, or order an unfulfilling iceberg salad. Eventually I decided on subway. I had a nice veggie sandwich...and I think I actually felt physical pain when I said the words "no cheese." I have to admit though, that I didn't miss it that much on the sandwich. I already think cheetos are kind of gross so my kids' meals didn't tempt me all that much. I DID dunk my crusty end into my son's meatball sauce, so technically I crossed the line. So, bite me. The sauce was pretty good.
Saturday was a cranky vegan day. We were out of soy milk so I drank my coffee black, and that is NOT a good way to start the day. Why didn't I just use regular milk? Discipline, man. It's a slippery slope.
Sunday was a bit better. As I type this, it's Sunday morning, and there are exactly 1.5 buttered blueberry waffles and .7 muffin left on the dining room table. Had it been last Sunday I would have eaten them, though I'm not particularly hungry. Do I need to go all the way to vegan to stop eating my kids' leftovers? Perhaps. But the dunking in meaty tomato sauce will never stop. It's hard-wired, friends. HARD-WIRED.