I am back. Alive and well enough to resume snack mom duties, something I haven't been able to do since last October. The snack menus for the past week were a mix of old and new.
Red and Green Grapes,
Cheddar Cheese, Yogurt Cheese
and Trader Joe's Organic Cracker Assortment
Raita (Cucumber/Yogurt Dip)
Blue Xochitl Chips
Vanilla Pudding topped with wild strawberries
Granola with olive oil, prunes and honey (recipe coming soon)
After dinner last night, I thought I would have enough energy to make the pudding and the granola but by the time Izzy was ready for bed I wasn't sure I could make it back downstairs. I was ready to collapse. Then Izzy offered to help me make the pudding and I couldn't resist. So we made our way back downstairs together and stirred up a big vat of vanilla pudding. It seemed to take a bit longer than usual, perhaps because of the greater volume of liquid.
Izzy served as my stirring assistant and as he stood over the pot, he remarked, "Being snack mom is a lot of work, isn't it?" Indeed it can be. Which is fine for me since I know Izzy appreciates having good things to eat and I take pleasure in preparing them.
There are times, though, like this morning when I have to wonder what it might be like if I just took the easy way out.
The rain poured while Izzy got ready for school and I began to bake the granola. The kitchen was in a particularly chaotic state and Izzy's lunch was as yet unmade. I opted to drop Izzy off with pudding and go back to make his lunch and to get the granola when it emerged from the oven. Meanwhile Izzy packed up several books that he wanted to bring to school and added a large container of tea to his bag. I couldn't help him carry his bag, as I was to busy carrying pudding in glass containers. As we trudged over to his school in the rain, I watched him maneuvering his heavy bag and I had the distinct feeling that something was about to go awry. As I handed the pudding over to the teacher and Izzy took off his raincoat he began to cry. His tea had spilled all over the books. There he stood, teary-eyed before a puddle of tea and it was all my fault ( I had not screwed the top on properly). To make matters worse, I had to hurry home to keep the granola from burning. Another kitchen fire was certainly not part of my agenda.
I delivered the granola and returned home to clean up the mess. When all was tidy, I had a moment to bask in the lingering scent of just-baked granola and envision Izzy and his classmates tucking into spoonfuls of luscious pudding goodness.