I guess this is my first blog post in four years. (Plus I am trying to find ways to sustain my blog with affiliate links. Wish me luck)
Four years?
We have a lot to catch up on.
But today, I thought I’d write about breakfast. Or rather, the existential crisis breakfast served my middle-aged, very active, but thoroughly enjoying-a-little-downtime soul this morning.
Truly.
I slept in.
Well… sort of.
I woke up around 4 a.m. to check on one of my little ones. Overnight potty training has been… an adventure. I climbed back into bed, only to wake again at 6:30 to unlock the front door for my lovely employee, who arrives very early each morning.
Employee of what? I’ll tell you another day. I promptly went back to bed.
A rare morning off.
Normally, even during quieter seasons, I’m up by 5:30, racing the clock to bake, cool, package and deliver a small batch of muffins to a local retailer.
During full-cylinder mode, the alarm goes off at 4:30.
I throw on my gym clothes, check whether my croissants have risen enough in the fridge, decide whether they need another hour at room temperature or whether they’ll happily wait while I disappear to the gym, all in pursuit of that elusive balance between perfectly puffed and tragically over-proofed pastry.
Somewhere between 5 and 6 a.m., I’ve exercised. By just before 7, fresh pastries are arriving at a coffee shop for the early risers. Then comes the final sprint: getting four children ready for school without everyone, including me, losing their minds.
Sometimes we arrive looking like we’ve got life figured out. Sometimes we’re twenty minutes late.
Either way, by the time I finish the school run, I’ve already worked for three hours and squeezed in a workout. Ironically, I’m not even a morning person. Neither are my workout friends. But 5 a.m. has no scheduling conflicts. So that’s when life happens.
Today, however…
I opened my eyes again around 9 a.m. Slowly peeled myself out of bed.
Luxury.
Although “day off” is probably the wrong phrase. Like many entrepreneurs, my to-do list isn’t really a list anymore. It’s simply a rotating queue of whichever fire is hottest today.
A project proposal is due.
A business application needs completing.
Several clients need responses.
Bills still need paying. Somehow, every day feels like trying to squeeze money out of stones today in the hope of building a better tomorrow.
But first…
Eat.
I wasn’t even hungry.
It was already 10 a.m.
I opened the fridge.
Nothing inspired me.
I opened the pantry.
Eggs.
“I had eggs yesterday.”
“But they’re protein.”
“It’s winter.”
“A warm breakfast would be sensible.”
Then I spotted bananas.
Ah.
Bananas and coffee.
For years, when I was commuting to the office in London as a project manager delivering 22 kV electricity substations, fruit was my perfect breakfast.
Simple.
Healthy.
Reliable.
I grabbed a banana. Then a naartjie. Two fruits already. Look at me, practically completing my five-a-day before lunch.
And then…
The guilt arrived.
Shouldn’t a woman my age be eating more protein?
Does fruit suddenly stop being acceptable once you reach middle age?
What about macros?
How much protein is enough?
Should I find oats?
No oats.
There’s leftover peanut butter cornmeal porridge. I could stir in a scoop of protein powder. The sugar-free one tastes sweet enough anyway. Coffee would go perfectly with that.
Then another thought barged into my head.
“What about chia seed porridge?” Remember when chia seeds suddenly became “segzy”? When exactly did that happen? Who decided they were an essential superfood? And why does eating breakfast suddenly feel like sitting an exam? Will I actually fall apart if one morning I simply eat the fruit I genuinely felt like eating?
When did ordinary food stop being enough?
When did expensive, imported, processed “superfoods” become the benchmark for good health?
My chia seeds have been sitting in the pantry for almost a year.
Untouched.
If I couldn’t afford them, what would good nutrition look like? Is health and longevity becoming something only the wealthy can buy? And perhaps the question I find myself asking most often…
What does enough protein actually look like for a busy, active, middle-aged African woman eating within an African food culture?
I don’t know.
I don’t want food to become another spreadsheet. Another optimisation problem. Another source of guilt. I simply want to nourish myself well enough to be healthy—for me, for my family, for my children and for whatever adventures still lie ahead.
Because lately… Breakfast has become surprisingly exhausting.
Anyway.
I eventually made it to my desk. Only to discover I’d missed an important email that had quietly put me two days behind schedule. Then Microsoft Project refused to let me edit a file. So naturally, my next breakfast companion became Microsoft Support.
Such is life.
But enough about me.
Friend… How was your morning? And what did you have for breakfast?
No Comments