Yesterday’s chicken teriyaki dinner idea was a success. My daughter’s class mother (whom I called in a panic yesterday morning to find out details for the meal drop-off) bought it, and subsequently sent me an email letting me know she enjoyed it. Yay!
Today is the first day of April, and thankfully, a Friday. Friday lunch is pizza, so I clipped my daughter’s teal lunch ticket, and put it into her school bag. I chopped up some red pepper and cucumbers for a post-pizza snack, and packed the little one’s daycare snack bag with two containers of apricot-apple sauce, two cheese sticks, a tangerine, and a barley teething cracker.
I’ve been sending these crackers from the time my older daughter was teething, and now, it’s just become habit. Plus, I like sending these in, rather than the multitude of other overly sweetened baked goods. However, I probably should consider making my own version of these crackers – but baking and I simply don’t mesh. The requirement for PRECISE measurement and temperature control is much different from the more interpretive freedom I have when cooking.
Maybe I’ll make this a long-term project to get over my phobia…
Let’s say – I baked organic cupcakes with my daughter on a snowy day – and they came out tasting and feeling like corn muffins. Delicious, but dense and crumbly, and lacking the soft, pillowy mouth-feel that can only come from the delicate chemical reaction of white flour, white sugar, and all the other items I’ve been trying to slowly remove from our pantry.
On occasion my husband falls off the wagon and goes on a shopping rampage, and I find him hauling cases of soda (High fructose corn syrup! Aspartame!), box(es) of Hungry Man TV dinners (Sodium! Saturated fat! Food coloring! Preservatives! Hydrogenated oils!), regular bacon (nitrates! antibiotics!) and in one rare case, a loaf of white Wonderbread (Refined flour! Empty calories!!).
I don’t blame him. Sometimes I find myself craving things I couldn’t imagine giving to my own children after reading the labels. Sometimes I’ll feel “can’t let it go to waste,” and I’ll be eating processed foods that clearly go against the diet I strive to maintain for my children. On a particularly stressful day, I catch myself raiding my co-worker’s candy bowl, wishing I had the self-discipline to ignore the bowl, but justifying the candy was better than smoking cigarettes… and that I wasn’t bringing it home…
Nonetheless, I’m still keeping my promise of Friday pizza for my older daughter. A slice of pizza just once a week? If it keeps the family peace, sure. Why not!
Mullings for a rainy-snowy-sleety-freezing rain-y Friday.