Are Pop Tarts "Real Food"?

If you are looking for a good example of irony in our everyday world, this is your lucky day... Today, on Day 2 of my Real Food (i.e. no processed crap) diet, I let my 16 month old baby eat a Pop Tart for breakfast. Yep, there you have it. Want to know the worst part? I was sort of proud because I didn't have any--not one little bite of rejected crust or anything! So, now that you all are contentedly patting yourselves on the backs for being much better parents than me, let me explain. My 4 year old isn't a good breakfast eater. Ever. No matter what I serve her, she won't eat it, or anything, until roughly 10am when she'll finally slink into the kitchen asking for a snack and will willingly accept fruit and yogurt. A while back, in a moment of weakness, I gave her a chocolate Pop Tart in a (successful) attempt to avoid a temper tantrum. The result? A pleasant fit-free morning, and she didn't even touch the sugary processed pastry anyway. So now, whenever it is busy in the mornings (i.e. almost every day), I let her have a Pop Tart, secure in my smug awareness that she won't eat it anyway. Sadly, I'm also the type of slacker parent that allows her kids to occasionally (i.e. almost every day) eat breakfast in cute Dora the Explorer stuffed chairs in front of the TV. So this morning, when I was weak with starvation from this stupid diet, the baby snagged the Pop Tart off the coffee table and delighted in it's gooey chocolateyness. If you think about it, for a kid whose diet is still mostly breast milk, a Pop Tart must be a pretty thrilling flavor combination. And before you get too judgy, remember, I didn't eat any! I just ate my boring, plain, oatmeal (which I usually share with the baby, but of course today she was too full from the Pop Tart to eat any whole grains). That's something, right? In case you're curious how yesterday went, I think I did well. I did not track calories or serving sizes, but I suspect I ate significantly more calories than I normally do, but they weren't processed, so maybe it is okay. Here's the total: plain oatmeal, plain yogurt mixed with tons of frozen peaches and a banana, raspberries, a grapefruit, an apple, watermelon, baby carrots, 2 hardboiled eggs, a giant vat of spinach, 1/2 grilled chicken breast, a tomato, chopped bell peppers, 2 ears of corn, black beans, ground beef, a whole grain (and only 3 ingredients / all natural) crunchy taco shell, green beans, a shot of wine at book club, and air popped popcorn. I don't look any skinnier and my skin isn't any more youthful looking yet, but hey, it's just been a day, right? All food thoughts aside, the other wisdom I feel like sharing today is a lesson I've learned the hard way: Life is too short to not let your kids dress themselves. Maybe it's just my kids, maybe it's just girls, and maybe they grow out of it at some point, but for now, 2/3 of my kids insist on dressing themselves and do so in a way that makes me cringe. When your kid pops out of their bedroom wearing purple capris with leopard-print stripes, a yellow tutu, and a red tee shirt with a glittery butterfly on the back (because she put it on backwards, of course), you have two choices. You can say no and select other suitable outfits, but trust me, even if you "win" and the child ends up in the outfit you select, you still will have lost. You will have lost at least a half hour of your day, a noticeable portion of your sanity, and either a chunk of hair or your hearing (depending on whether your child is a screamer or a fighter). Your other choice is to smile, praise the kiddo for dressing herself, and move along. Trust me, NO ONE other than your mother will ever notice, let alone care, what ridiculous getup your child wears. My middle kid has gone to preschool dressed as a fairy at least three times this year, but as long as her shoes are playground-safe, no one cares. My oldest picks out cute but clashing outfits, then pairs them with a skirt hiked up to her actual waist with the shirt tucked in, and tops off the look by stretching her socks up over her pants halfway up to her knees. And guess what--no one cares! She isn't mocked, she still has friends, and we are all calmer. Granted, you will still have the occasional day when your four year old locates the bikini you've hidden in the way back of her closet (because no preschooler needs a bikini or anything else Kesha or the VS Angels would wear in public) and insists on wearing it to go sledding, but save your battles for those days. And even then, maybe just cover it up with a sweat suit. Why? Because life is too short not to choose your battles. And because, although I'm certainly not there yet, I'm confident there will be a day when all of our children dress themselves in perfectly coordinated, weather-appropriate outfits, and I know when that day comes, we'll all miss the superman costume and butterfly wings they used to wear to Kroger. But for now, I'm going to go eat some plain tuna with plain spinach. Because I'm actually THAT hungry. Bleh.