The worst thing about having children is the death of brunch. (Well, that, and no longer being able to play your vintage Cypress Hill CD when they are within earshot, which is almost always.) Saturday and Sunday — when my only obligation back in the day was brunch — now belong to soccer, basket ball, birthday parties, church, school projects, and other child-centered activities, none of which involve me sitting in peace with a bottomless cup of coffee, the entire New York Times (including the Sunday crossword), and a breakfast meant to be eaten with actual flatware.
Even the rare brunch escape with my husband quickly degenerates into planning for the week ahead — who will drive this or that carpool, when we’ll be able to sit down for a family dinner, and who hasn’t been keeping up with his homework (and which one of us will harass him about it). Hardly fodder for a leisurely meal. And I wouldn’t change it for the world, but I do miss brunch.
On weekdays, I have my chance, as soon as the boys have made it to school safely, bagged lunches in hand, my husband is ensconced in his office, and the dog has settled in for his post-walk morning nap. The house is quiet, Cypress Hill notwithstanding. Finally, I have time to consider what I want for breakfast, and actually make it. A quesadilla with leftover succotash from the night before, an omelet with fresh spinach and rich Manchego cheese, or a perfect soft boiled egg, with salt and pepper applied to each bite. Café au lait in a bowl makes it feel like brunch, and — if someone else has already absconded with the paper — I can always read a book.
If you're a parent, how has parenthood changed your breakfast routine? Do you find yourself eating a "second breakfast" during naptime? Or sneaking other moments to yourself to recapture old breakfast habits?
(Image: Anne Postic)
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