getting heated

This morning I woke up early and worked out in one of my more rigorous fitness classes.  I was sweaty, exhausted, and home by 7 am.  Coach was at work early, so I was running the show:  making lunches in the makeshift kitchen in the dining room, waking kids up, keeping other kids quiet, dealing with the tots that got dropped off, begging Tank to quit screwing around with the tots and get ready for school, missing life with a full-size full-functioning kitchen, etc.

I finally decided to make my own breakfast when there was a lull in the action.  This lull is otherwise known as the moment when I can chill because Tank has officially left the building and is on his way to school in a car driven by Ed.  This was a momentous occasion.  Ed hadn't threatened his younger brother with bodily harm for moving too slowly.  AND I believed that they would arrive at school without running the risk of Tank being awarded yet another tardy.  One more tardy and he will have a Saturday detention.  Sigh.

Ah, breakfast.  I was famished.  I set up the tots to chow down on their food in the junior chairs (still utilized by my 9 and 11 year olds) at the kitchen table.  I descended the basement stairs with a gallon of skim, since the basement fridge in our mini-kitchen only had 2% (in addition to some really foul smelling broccoli, almost an appetite killer, but I was REALLY hungry.  My early morning classes have that effect on me).  Mini was in the shower.  That girl needs lots of assistance to get out the door in the morning.  As hungry as I was, I opted to heat up a breakfast sandwich for her BEFORE I prepared my oatmeal.  Is it wrong to hope that some day the kids will look back and recognize me as selfless and not just mouthy and loud?

OK, so I get that this doesn't LOOK appetizing,
but these breakfast sandwiches are the bomb.

I make these amazing breakfast sandwiches (which I have been meaning to write about - so check back for a breakfast sandwich post).  I chiseled one portion from the mound of breakfast sandwich-insides since they were all huddled together in the freezer.  My plan:  heat up the ham, egg, veggie, and cheese portion for her.  Then jog upstairs and make an English muffin in the toaster that currently resides on the dining room server.  (Note:  jogging totally unnecessary considering I had already worked out, but such is life with eating arrangements on multiple levels).

Ah, my oatmeal.  I require gluten free oatmeal.  My freak-meal requires a whopping 3.5 minutes in the microwave.  Torture.  I convinced myself that I could survive the delayed breakfast, while I defrosted Mini's meal.

I was pouring my dry freak-meal into the bowl when the microwave stopped.  Mini's sandwich hadn't even begun to sweat.  The microwave had literally given me less than 5 seconds in its final spin. 

I only borrowed this towards the end of summer, so there
wasn't a huge attachment.  Still! 
This box was feeding me and keeping me sane. 
I was pleasantly surprised to discover
that it made a great baked potato.

I opened and closed the door to the huge, elderly microwave that we borrowed from my sister.  No lights.  I hit the control panel buttons.  No power.  I unplugged and re-plugged.  NOTHING!!!  NO!!!!!!

Mini had other options.  I informed her of the dead appliance, and she shrugged.  A bagel would suffice.  Lucky.

My breakfast includes freak-meal followed later by the insides of a breakfast sandwich minus the English muffin.  I was so hungry.  I can eat Cheerios, but I practically require the entire box to feel full.

My food wasn't heated up, but I was.