My eyes were barely open – I was getting the milk to pour into my coffee when I saw the thick cut delicious bacon Jessica and John had left in our fridge. The idea struck me like a bolt of lightning: BACON FILLED PANCAKES. It was like an out of body experience. Like some greater power of death-by-breakfast combos reached down and selected me as their vessel, which OMG, I’m pretty sure makes me like a junk food prophet or something. My children. (WHA?! Just…lets move on.)
Scott was still sleeping and Delilah’s answer to everything these days is NOOMAIIIE — so she’s basically no help whatsoever. {Which, by the way, I’m pretty sure is as a result of my Mom thinking it’s cute to say “No, MINE” to her at every available opportunity, like we need to encourage that phase.} [Hi Mom! Love you! Thanks for all your help!]
So anyway, I tweeted the notion. Honestly, I probably would have forgotten about it, or more likely gotten lazy and had a latte for breakfast.
But the response was overwhelming. And, despite the fact that [a by then barely awake] Scott said “that sounds like no good can come from it” twitter had spoken. And with so many people cheering me on, I thought it was pretty obvious that BACON FILLED PANCAKES were the best idea I’d had since CHILI CON CONE-AY, so what choice did I have, really, but to make like Channing Tatum and step up to the challenge?
I started by fryin’ up the bacon. Cast iron style. BOOYAH.
I’ve said it before but it’s worth repeating: I’m no food blogger.
It’s Sunday morning, people. I went for the mix.
{I’m partial to Robby’s Buttermilk Pancake Mix because it is the bomb. I make it with whole milk instead of buttermilk mostly because I never remember to buy buttermilk, but I bet it would be super delicious that way too.}
Despite using a mix, I still managed to fuck up the recipe. Here is me NOT mixing the liquid ingredients before adding the dry stuff. WHOOPS. Turns out Robby’s instructions writers are liars though and our pancakes were still plenty fluffy and awesome.
I cut the bacon down into mini-bites with my kitchen shears because again: lazy. Did the trick beautifully. I highly recommend it.
And we’re off and running. Are you drooling yet?
Well wait…because then things started to get crazy —
And then things started to get REALLY crazy…
The end result?
Happy Baby.
Happy Husband.
The Perfect Bite.











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