A Recipe for Failure

Bet you didn't know the recipe for failure includes milk and yogurt. 

I didn't until this morning when I made morning smoothies. Rylie has me make them every morning for breakfast. She drinks hers on the way to school, usually from a tall decorative cup with a lid. Smoothies are one of the few efforts I've agreed to make at the crack of dawn. I let my efforts slide this morning. 

Instead of a dapper to-go cup for her breakfast, I chose a red Solo cup. (The cute cup we usually use is hard to wash after seven hours in her locker.) Knowing she'd probably spill it, I secured the wide-open top with a rather large square of Saran Wrap. Then I stuck a straw in it, unbeknownst to me that Rylie would receive it similar to the way I received the peach and brown swimsuit my mom bought me from Bill's Dollar Store in fifth grade when moths had eaten my much cuter swimsuit. Rylie smiled and said thanks, but I could tell she was underwhelmed. 
As if it weren't enough that her smoothie didn't look cute, her first taste would prove that things were worse than I'd gauged. Behind her, while throwing her hair into a quick ponytail, I could feel the grimace. The taste equaled the presentation.  The cup mischoosing wasn't the only place I went wrong. 

Being that her sister Hallie enjoys a breakfast smoothie herself, I decided to stretch the fruit portion. In my more genius days, I divided a large bag of frozen fruit into individual-sized portions, adding banana. I put each portion into a ziplock, which I pull out and pop into my Ninja for morning magic. Disregarding Ecclesiastal advice which tells us two is better than one, I used one bag of fruit for both smoothies this morning because I'd chosen to be economical, stretching my most costly resource. The smoothies in the past have been too thick for quick slurping, and fruit is the number one thick ingredient, so I skimped. 


I was told by Rylie's chauffeur that this morning's smoothie tasted like strawberry milk. (Oh yeah, I also added a little more milk and yogurt than usual, disposing her need for a spoon.) What way for a middle school kid to start a Monday. Thank goodness I didn't pull that junk tomorrow, on STAAR Day. 

Lesson learned. 

Or shall I say, lessons. 

I'm reflecting on a few important realities today. 

  • Use careful consideration before ditching cute. Hang on to that uncomfortable pair of wedges and that blouse that hardly gets worn.  Keep that deviled egg tray at the back of your cabinet.  Presentation, sometimes, matters. Smoothie cups matter. 
  • Make the best use of your costly resources. Stretch what you can. With those things that are more valuable in nature, apply a liberal mindset.  Realize the worth of those ingredients in smoothies, ...and in life. Time is costly. How are you using it? 
  • Last and maybe most important, I'm learning it might be time the kids start making their own breakfast. 

Smoothie recipe (the acceptable one)

1 ziplock bag of frozen fruit (2 if you're making for two picky kids)

1 banana

1 cup of ice

A splash of milk (unless you like them runny)

3 TB yogurt

Honey (to taste)

Blend. 



2 thoughts on “A Recipe for Failure

  1. Faye Bledsoe

    The recipe sounds good; I need to get a blender; we have been using an old malt maker for malts and shakes. But the smoothies would be better. Love your texts as usual. Love ya.

    Reply
    1. Kristi Burden

      Post author

      Thanks Faye. We have an old Ninja chopper. It works good enough to make chunky smoothies. Haha

      Reply

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