The Antagonist for the Day: Evil Chocolate Cup Cakes Delivered by Obnoxiously Cute 4 Yearolds
There are about 70 wonderful children at my school. They walk into school everyday, go to their classes and do wonderful, productive work.
This means there are 70 birthdays. 30 of those are elementary student treats. I am usually good at turning these down. I am so busy with singing with the kids and helping them with their little party, and usually it is a precious 5 minutes where I can have a small break to myself as the kids happily eat their treats.
But there are 40 smaller people at my school that are not as easy to turn down. Meaning there are 40 opportunities for some kind of treat to wander shyly into my room during the most stressful part of my day (3 hour work period in the morning). Clutching a basket of treats and accompanied by a proud friend holding napkins, in comes the primary child (3-6yr). Shy around all these big kids and the loud crazy elementary teacher (me), they hold out their prized possession: their birthday treat. This treat is more then a sweet nibble. This sweet treat is the essence of their being.
It always goes the same way. I turn around and see them, gasp with excitement, kneel down, and ask the child holding the treats "Oh my goodness! Is it your birthday?????" They either look at me with a terrified expression similar to a prey animal and nod, or they exclaim, "YES!! I AM 4!!" Or however old they are. I always ask which one I should take, and they proudly point to the one they think it the best.
Looking at them, there is no way in hell I can turn this coveted treat down. I've seen them get let down, easily of course, always, but you see them crumble with disappointment. So I take the treat, and usually eat it out of delight and sheer stress.
Today's culprit: vanilla cupcake with chocolate icing.
See, Tuesdays I go out with the girls. We go to Chavas, our favorite Mexican restaurant in the city, and usually have a couple drinks. This is my favorite evening of the week, so I wanted to save the calories. But at the same time, I didn't want to just waste this food. And I keep thinking "I should have said no thank you!!" but that look that rips my insides apart flashes, and I realize I couldn't.
So I walked around the lunch room sniffing it. My kids kept asking me what the heck I was doing. I told them I was trying to be healthier, and instead of eating it, I would just sniff it. They all took a whiff too. It smelled so good. One kid tried to jokingly steal it so I licked it.
Mistakes.
I contemplated putting salt all over it.
Then I decided I could have ONE bite.
This went well. I took one bite, then shamefully threw it away, feeling wasteful. But, still feeling proud of my self control.
So yes. There it is.
Everything else went well. I was fine with my calorie goals (WOOT). I had planned to work out, but had to change meal plan days because the pork has to cook for 4 hours (too short for the work day, too long for after work). It took me two hours to cook the spinach chicken dinner (but it was mega tasty), then I had to go to Chavas. Will have to work out tomorrow big time.
Note to self: no cooking on Tuesdays.
This means there are 70 birthdays. 30 of those are elementary student treats. I am usually good at turning these down. I am so busy with singing with the kids and helping them with their little party, and usually it is a precious 5 minutes where I can have a small break to myself as the kids happily eat their treats.
But there are 40 smaller people at my school that are not as easy to turn down. Meaning there are 40 opportunities for some kind of treat to wander shyly into my room during the most stressful part of my day (3 hour work period in the morning). Clutching a basket of treats and accompanied by a proud friend holding napkins, in comes the primary child (3-6yr). Shy around all these big kids and the loud crazy elementary teacher (me), they hold out their prized possession: their birthday treat. This treat is more then a sweet nibble. This sweet treat is the essence of their being.
It always goes the same way. I turn around and see them, gasp with excitement, kneel down, and ask the child holding the treats "Oh my goodness! Is it your birthday?????" They either look at me with a terrified expression similar to a prey animal and nod, or they exclaim, "YES!! I AM 4!!" Or however old they are. I always ask which one I should take, and they proudly point to the one they think it the best.
Looking at them, there is no way in hell I can turn this coveted treat down. I've seen them get let down, easily of course, always, but you see them crumble with disappointment. So I take the treat, and usually eat it out of delight and sheer stress.
Today's culprit: vanilla cupcake with chocolate icing.
See, Tuesdays I go out with the girls. We go to Chavas, our favorite Mexican restaurant in the city, and usually have a couple drinks. This is my favorite evening of the week, so I wanted to save the calories. But at the same time, I didn't want to just waste this food. And I keep thinking "I should have said no thank you!!" but that look that rips my insides apart flashes, and I realize I couldn't.
So I walked around the lunch room sniffing it. My kids kept asking me what the heck I was doing. I told them I was trying to be healthier, and instead of eating it, I would just sniff it. They all took a whiff too. It smelled so good. One kid tried to jokingly steal it so I licked it.
Mistakes.
I contemplated putting salt all over it.
Then I decided I could have ONE bite.
This went well. I took one bite, then shamefully threw it away, feeling wasteful. But, still feeling proud of my self control.
So yes. There it is.
Everything else went well. I was fine with my calorie goals (WOOT). I had planned to work out, but had to change meal plan days because the pork has to cook for 4 hours (too short for the work day, too long for after work). It took me two hours to cook the spinach chicken dinner (but it was mega tasty), then I had to go to Chavas. Will have to work out tomorrow big time.
Note to self: no cooking on Tuesdays.
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