Here’s the deal: you say you’re microwavable but you’re not. Stop lying. Stop pretending to be something you're not. Stop luring hella busy working moms into buying you and then exploding in epic proportions all over the inside of our microwaves moments before we need to leave for our morning commutes while hungry, bratty kids stand by and demand their breakfasts.
This has to stop.
I’ve tried quick oats. I’ve tried old fashioned. I’ve tried rolled, and I’ve tried steel cut. I’ve read your instructions, triple-checked cook times. I’ve measured with the precision of a scientist. When you’ve jauntily suggested I cook the oats for two minutes, stir and then cook another minute… I’ve diligently stopped the microwave every 30 seconds to stir in hopes of avoiding Oat-ageddon.
We always end up here, you hardening, thick and cocky, across my microwave and crusted to my bowl. Me, defeated, with heart palpitations and already five minutes late for work.
I don’t know who you think you are and what kind of sick enjoyment you’re getting out of this desperate dance, but please. For the sake of my children, for the sake of my aging microwave and for the sake of my kind-hearted husband who is the recipient of my most brutal outbursts, please stop.
I don’t want any delightful oatmeal hacks from well-intentioned friends. I don’t even want to hear the words “overnight oats” because they disgust me in ways I can’t fully explain in this post (think: bloated cereal left too long in milk…). I don’t want any practical assistance or emotional support, and I damn well don’t want that one triumphant bitch who can make you chiming in to say how easy this all is.
Here’s what I want: the truth. You aren’t microwavable. Come clean – for working mamas everywhere. You owe it us. And Oatmeal? You owe it to yourself.