Hot Breakfast

When I was young, my mom made my sisters and I a hot breakfast almost every school day. She had a set weekly menu: pancakes on Tuesdays (my fave), biscuits on Wednesdays, oatmeal or cracked wheat on Thursdays (not my favorite day), and french toast on Fridays. I often woke to the sound of her working in the kitchen, beating batter with a wire whisk, grinding the wheat in the electric grinder (which sounded like an airplane engine), running water as she cleaned as she cooked.

One day, when I was in middle school, I remember realizing that while my sisters and I feasted on a steaming breakfast seated at the table, my mom ate a bowl of Cheerios. Standing. Everyday she stood next to the stove, flipping pancakes, serving us, and stealing bites of cereal in between her cooking. When I asked her about it, she said she really liked cereal and was perfectly happy eating Cheerios every day. At that moment, I realized my mom's hot breakfasts were an act of service. Hot breakfast=Love.

In my parenting, I've tried to carry over my mom's breakfast tradition. I've added Muffin Mondays and substituted cinnamon rolls for french toast, but other than that, I've stuck to her same menu. On the best of mornings, my cooking leads to a mothering high where I feel confident I am doing something right. I am happy to send my kids off to school with their tummies full of good homemade food.

When Baby C was born, everything came to a screeching halt. Suddenly my children were eating cold cereal by the bulk and I was eternally grateful for Costco-sized boxes of Eggo waffles (which I counted-in my sleep depravity-as a HOT breakfast). I banished any mother guilt, promising myself that as soon as possible, I'd return to my cooking routine.

One month turned into two, then three, and suddenly almost an entire semester was over. Empty cereal boxes accumulated weekly in the green recycling bin. Then my hubby left for three months, and hot breakfasts became a distant memory.

Finally, summer! When I asked the kids what they wanted to do this summer, in addition to requesting trips to the swimming pool and outings the park, Madi asked for blueberry muffins. So I rededicated myself to cooking. Of course, the later wake-up time helps, and the lazy summer mornings make things easier. But, oh, it feels good to serve a piping hot breakfast again. Almost as good as hearing the kids say, "Thanks mom! This is DE-LI-CIOUS!"