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What Do Your Kids Eat for Breakfast?

This week, a friend emailed to ask what I feed my kids for breakfast. She hinted that she was getting tired of feeding her kids cereal and yogurt, mainly from a nutritional standpoint. So, like any enterprising mom, she emailed a few friends for ideas. And, of course, it got me thinking about what I actually do feed my kids and, with that, came equal parts pride and guilt. But that’s parenthood for you…equal parts pride and guilt.

In the morning, while we are feeding our boys, we are also packing two lunches, feeding two cats, and making two smoothies (we are finally able to subsist without coffee). Time is of the essence and agreeable is the name of the game. Since that 60-minute crunch to get out the door each morning is rife with its own battles, we don’t need to be proprietary about our ideas for success. That said, I thought I’d share my reply to my friend so we could get a bigger conversation going on about healthy breakfast ideas. Mainly, so I could ask you…what do you feed (or aspire to feed) your little ones for breakfast?

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Meet My Friend…Andi

I have the coolest friends. Like, seriously. Musicians, mega-moms, artists, writers, moguls—you name it, I know one. Some of them are all those things! I can’t imagine my life without them. I’ve been curating and counting on them for years.

The tough part is, I lost touch with many of them the last half decade when I had my head so far down in my work. So, I thought it might be fun to bring showing up to light with the people whose opinions I trust and value most.

I figured I would just start through the list, alphabetically. Just kidding. With Andi, I actually felt inspired to start with a fellow leaner-outer. As I explore this new normal of work-life presence, I wanted to pick someone else’s brain about it.

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Your Nemesis and Mine…Screen Time

Let’s face it. We’re all going blind and our brains are turning into strobe light garbage dumps.

Content! Images! Content! Images!

I used to be able to sit down and read an entire novel without moving. I have vivid memories of giddily reading John Clellon Holmes’ Go in a single sitting and devouring Ellison’s Invisible Man in just a few hours. I lament that we didn’t read more women writers in college, but I digress.

These days, my brain is like a Polaroid on crack (see above: digression).

When I closed my eyes last night, this is the kind of stuff that flashed before my eyes:

Violent Paris! Virulent Trump! Voracious Sex! Volatile mommyblogs! Venus herself a.k.a. naked Amy Schumer!

All of this, at once, replete with images and emotions that I don’t even have the time to process before I feel my heart rate tick up and my breathing get shallow. None of it means anything and little of it makes any sense, yet this is apparently the fuel this planet needs to keep spinning on its axis.

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