Every once in awhile, I get an idea in my head that weekday breakfasts shouldn't be toast or oatmeal, that something more elaborate would be better to send the kids off with. (The 50's housewife tucked way back in my head claps her hands with delight.)
I inexplicably forget that I am a woman on a schedule and fuss around the kitchen, leading to happy children (and husband) but usually leaving me flying around, trying to get myself ready.
This morning, I got out of bed a few minutes early and convinced myself I had loads of time, so I started making pancakes. And I was doing well, too – multi-tasking, flipping things at the stove, brushing R’s hair, doing a Mommy-veto of the four cars Cass wanted to stuff into his pockets and take to school, even managing a conversation with Bear about the dishwasher and parts needed. I was doing swell, until R stood up in her chair and then fell off with a thud and a wail.
I had her up on my hip and was doing the comforter rock-sway that all parents are familiar with, when R spotted the batter bowl. Quick as a flash, she had it up in her arms, and just as quick, I had it away from her – it was fast approaching crunch time, and the last thing I needed was to have to clean the floor before I left.
She looked pensive for a moment, then brightened when she saw my earrings. “Mama pitty!” she chirped, patting me and grinning.
And it wasn’t until we were almost through breakfast that we realized she’d left a generous schmear of pancake mix on my hair.
And it was time to leave.
Tossing the baby at Bear (who caught her easily – he’s getting good at this juggling thing) I pounded upstairs to wash my hair and rub at my head frantically with a towel. There was no time to use the hair dryer, so we drove to town with the heater cranked and my window down.
(And it’s September – the mornings are chill.)
I’m going to strangle that housewife with her own apron.
And I may never pick up the baby again. Well, not without checking her hands.
5 comments:
Um. Pancake batter freezes well. You make a HUGE batch (minus the baking powder) and then you save some in a li'l Tupperware-like tub. Mix the powder with the batter and you're good to go.
...and remember, stress is not an aerobic exercise.
-J.
The idea that you even ATTEMPTED this amazes me.
A++ for effort!
I hope you dont catch cold, pitty mama!
Or, better yet, make an assload of pancakes at the weekend and then freeze them. Put them in the toaster oven if they need a bit more browning, or microwave them. You can also microwave real bacon - not that fake-o quick cook crap, real, honest-to-god bacon, in the microwave. And then Robert's your father's brother, there's breakfast.
Color me impressed. Nora gets (dry) Cheerios on the way to daycare with a sippy cup of milk. :)
Kat
Okay ~ then she gets oatmeal at daycare so don't call the authorities on me. LOL
Kells won't even eat breakfast at my house. I'm still trying to figure out what Margaret puts in her cereal that makes it oh so much better than ours, but pancakes on a weekday? I'll ditto the wow's. And breakfast no less. I made them for dinner last night, but breakfast??? You're out of your mind. LOL.
How'd you hair look?
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