My kids are off from school today and although I like my Monday mornings nice and quiet, it just wasn’t meant to be when my children rose at exactly the same time that they do every other school day and I found myself at the kitchen table trying to glide into the day with coffee and the paper while two small people watched a television show about the strange wonder of parasitic twins.
This isn’t how I wanted to spend my glorious Monday morning, a day most often protected by my own selfish delight in having the entire house to myself after a weekend jammed with crackling overstimulation.
I banished them to the basement so I could sip coffee and read about busted cocaine dealers in relative quiet. At once I remembered the one thing that would threaten to dissolve my morning cocoon: pancakes.
When my kids are home in the morning, their brains fix upon this one treat that can’t quickly be prepared on a usual weekday morning during the school year. Sleepovers, summer mornings, the occasional open Saturday, days off from school: these days almost always warrant the question: Mom, can you make pancakes?
I tiptoed around the kitchen and stole upstairs to accumulate and separate the dirty clothes that my family amasses at a jaw-dropping volume over the weekends. Stealthily I loaded the washer with one load of laundry, turned it on, and sat down at my computer, where I had also piled the morning’s work of bills, unopened mail, and school papers that demand my attention at an alarming rate at this moment in the school year.
Then I heard it: the thump-thumping of four feet making their way up the stairs from the basement. As I sat at my computer, mouse poised to click on the next email destined for deletion, I heard from the first floor: Mom, could you possibly make your most famous and delicious pancakes for our breakfast this morning?
My shoulders slumped a little as my oldest child poured on the sweetness like the syrup that I would most certainly be wiping off the table later today. How can I resist such a compliment from my angelic and polite child? I sighed. My sacred Monday would be interrupted. Of course, I replied.
Thanks Mom. You’re the best, they both said as they skipped back to their dungeon to play demolition derby while watching a show that most likely has something to do with ghosts, infested homes, or Sasquatch.
I will make them pancakes this morning. As I read another email, I can hear them coming closer. The basement door has been opened a crack so they can hear me call them when the pancakes are ready. They will be ready soon. Monday morning will be over soon, and with it, my time for just me.
It’s okay. In a few minutes I will be hearing ooohs and ahhhs, This is so goods and These are the best pancakes ever, thanks moms. My kids are free with compliments and mostly appreciative of the little things. Losing this Monday morning will be worth it. I will have another Monday to myself.
Plus, I will have a little leverage to use when I ask, later today: Can you two clean your bathroom?