Stage 6: Resurgence

You've hit the mid 40's, and are now desperate for a few more hours of sleep in the mornings.

After the sweat-soaked, insomniac, perimenopausal hours spent looking out the window and trying to go back to sleep between 3:30 and 6 am, the last thing you want to do is get up and cook breakfast for your 2 kids who rouse every single day at 6:15 am, just as you're starting to fall back asleep.

Since the pre-made mini quiches of locally raised eggs, organic cheddar cheese and nitrate-free bacon didn't go over so well, nor did the vanilla-infused chia seed puddings with berries in mini mason jars, you are now frantic to find something that will slake the hunger of your voracious striplings in the mornings.

You remember cereal. But now, you know far too much. And you're trying to raise your kids on a gluten-free and dairy-free diet, with no added canola oils. You're not even exactly sure why. It's just what parents do these days.

Sugar avoidance is now an everyday thing, and doesn't actually cause all that much drama anymore.

So you tentatively try bringing home some Jungle Berry Crunch to your kids, and maybe some chocolate cereal that was made from organic bean meal and sweetened with stevia. You get some $6/half gallon macadamia nut milk, and a carton of full-fat oat milk to give them options.

Your kids, 2 & 6 years old are completely thrilled.

Not only does the act of getting their own breakfast by climbing up onto the counter and noisily banging through the dishes to get their favorite colored bowl make their morning, but... They have no idea what a Lucky Charm is, and they NEVER WILL!

You get up an hour after they eat, clean up the hot mess of expensive nut milk drippings and crunched up chocolate bean puffs from the floor under the breakfast bar.

You got an extra 45 minutes of sleep. You are ecstatic.

The next morning, the kids wake up to empty cereal boxes and a half-drunk carton of oat milk. Turns out your husband is still in stage 5 of the breakup, and he ate all the cereal while playing video games the night before.

Glaring at him with a fury that cannot be purely hormonal, you are dragged out of bed the next morning by your insatiable offspring once again.

He rolls over and grumbles something before going back to sleep.

Congratulations. You are officially a mother.