Back in the day, I did buy pre-packaged granola bars. The ones that we were told were “good for you”. The more I got into making homemade everything, the more I realized that most things in a package, bottle, or can contain lots of ingredients that are not only manufactured but one’s that I cannot pronounce.
As of last week, packing lunches has become part of my morning routine. Always a protein, some sort of veggie, a fruit, rice crackers or nuts, water, and if I have it on hand, a little sweet treat. Cutting out gluten is not as challenging as one would assume. It’s more the sweet treat that’s a challenge. I don’t have a” cookie jar” filled with the latest and greatest. Instead, I bake off frozen cookie dough, 8 or 10 at a time, which doesn’t leave a lot of room for leftovers. However, it was more the “granola” type bar that my kids were missing.
After several attempts at a no bake “granola” bar, I was frustrated with them not staying in one piece. Although they tasted good, they fell apart in my kids hands, making them the perfect topping for homemade ice cream. However, I wasn’t looking for toppings. I wanted a bar that I could put in their lunch for snack time. After the first batch, I pulled out my silicone muffin cups and voila, something magical happened.
You know how I made it through sophomore geometry? My mom's meatball sandwiches.
I am going to miss our lazy days of summer. Breakfast, lunch, snack, and dinner doesn’t seem as daunting during the summer as it does during the school year. First of all, I get a bit of help with the prep, the clean up, and my sons culinary suggestions inspire me.
I have
taught English for over twenty years and the reading, planning,
grading, and yes, the teaching consume much of my waking time from
August 28th until June 20th every year. I have never had children of
my own. But I guess you could say, I'm "the village." I have taught
about 3200 students in all, ranging from the kids whose mothers clean
the homes and care for the children in Santa Monica to the kids in
Santa Monica whose moms employ the other moms.
The song you’ll hear after the jump is about driving my daughter Charlotte’s teenage carpool in 1998. The absolute horror of it. All I can remember about it was how much I hated it. Then, today, I was reading through my journal from back then, and come across the following entry. I must have been writing things for Charlotte to read in later years. She’s 26 now, so Charlotte, this is for you: