Oatmeal – You’re Doing it Wrong

At our house, we eat a lot of oatmeal. The kids like it, it’s a quick and easy hot breakfast, and it’s one of the healthiest breakfasts one could eat. A lot of times when we mention oatmeal to people, or if people are over at our house on a Saturday (a designated oatmeal day), they always more or less have the same reaction: “Yuck, really? Oatmeal?” Then we proceed to get out all the toppings and condiments that we put on the oatmeal, and they say, “Oh, well, that’s not really oatmeal then, is it?”

Well, why the heck not?

I remember eating oatmeal at home as a kid. We either put honey in it or cinnamon and sugar. Maybe a little fruit or something. I think that’s how people think of oatmeal; sort of bland with an unappealing texture that gets old pretty fast.

Oatmeal (here: oat,water,salt). Danish: havregrød

But who said it has to be that way? There are an infinite combinations of things you can put in your oatmeal. We usually use some combination of walnuts, pecans, dried cranberries, raisins, honey, maple syrup, applesauce, peanut powder, chia seeds, cinnamon, diced apples, strawberries, and bananas. And you certainly aren’t limited to those things. The nuts give it some texture, and if you use fruit, you usually don’t need a sweetener. It’s not uncommon to have a bowl that’s about half oatmeal and half “other stuff”. But, 1) you’re still eating oatmeal instead of something else, like sugar cereal, and 2) the “other stuff” is generally pretty healthy as well (I’m not going to complain about my kids eating bananas and nuts for breakfast!). And if adding in some applesauce encourages you to eat oatmeal, then it seems like a pretty good deal.

So my contention is, if you’re not eating oatmeal, you’re probably not thinking creatively enough about it!

The Horrifying Oatmeal Monster

This morning Evie was helping me make oatmeal for breakfast. She was standing on a chair next to the stove, getting ready to put the oatmeal into the boiling milk.

Being the excellent chef that I am, I saw that the milk was just about to boil over. I picked up the pot to get it off the heat, hoping that it would settle before boiling over. It didn’t, and instead it came bubbling over the sides from the height of about my head, hissing against the hot stove and extinguishing the flame.

I don’t know if it was the sound, the unexpectedness, or the thought of ruining the oatmeal, but Evie completely lost her mind. She threw her hands up in the air and screamed at the top of her lungs, like a kid in a movie.

By the time I had set the pot down she was running full speed down the hall, screaming her lungs out. I ran after her saying, “itsokayitsokayitsokay” but she was gone. Sara came sprinting out of the bedroom thinking, “Forsooth, my daughter has suffered a mortal blow!” As I ran by the bedroom I could see by her face that the amazing racket Evie was sending up had made her think Evie was seriously hurt, so I tried to reassure her that “itsokay”, but I’m not sure if I was successful or not.

I finally got a hold of Evie and calmed her down and returned the house to some semblance of order. I never was able to ascertain what had frightened her so badly, but I have never seen her so afraid, or heard her scream so loud and for so long.

I can only assume she is terrified of the Quaker Oats man.