Breakfast in Bed

I am trying to plan my own Mother’s Day this year, but I’m not sure the weather is going to cooperate.

I am hoping to enjoy a family fun day at the outdoor mini-golf course, followed by a take-out dinner of hot wings from a local eatery.  I realize this may not sound like a typical Mother’s Day outing, but I feel it covers all the key ingredients:  the kids will enjoy themselves so there will be minimal whining, I will be with my family, and I won’t have to cook.  However, the forecast for Sunday currently calls for rain, wind, and a dip in our recent warm temperatures, with an anticipated high of forty-eight degrees.  Forty-eight?  Seriously?  C’mon spring, get with the program!  Sheesh.

So while mini golf is facing probable cancellation, I still have the looming possibility of my children’s ongoing tradition of preparing Breakfast in Bed.  This annual event proudly began a few years ago when my then five year old daughter woke me at 5:30 am to present me with a bowl of yogurt the size of my head.  It sat on a tray along with a large tablespoon, a banana, a glass of chocolate milk and some crackers. She then sat next to me, perched like a small bird on the edge of the bed, and watched carefully as I struggled to prop open my weary eyes and sample her culinary efforts.

To her great disappointment, I needed to rise to use the bathroom and make my morning coffee after a few spoonfuls.  I did return to my assigned post under the covers and gamely tried to eat the rest of my breakfast, making appreciative smacking noises with my lips.  I was not able to finish all of it, but I put in a fair showing.  Despite being awakened at an ungodly hour, I recognized the sweetness of her efforts and praised her for her thoughtfulness.

Since then, with the help of her older brother, the breakfasts have grown larger and more elaborate – bacon cooked in the microwave, toaster waffles, pancakes, eggs, juice, COFFEE.  “Don’t get up, Mom!” they shout to me, as I run by on my way to the bathroom, and I can’t help but notice the incredible mess growing in the kitchen as I sprint past.  Grease on the stove, the floors and counter, batter burnt to the griddle, and eggs permanently adhered to the frying pan; all left waiting to be cleaned up later upon our return from church.  Climbing back into bed, I throw the covers over my head, and pray fervently that they won’t burn the house down.

Some weeks ago, when they suggested Breakfast in Bed again, I tried to gently imply that maybe a change this year would be nice for all of us.   Maybe they could make brunch for me after church instead? Perhaps I could eat it sitting at a table, as well?   They would get to avoid rushing around trying to prepare a hot breakfast before we left for Sunday School, and a stack of dirty dishes wouldn’t greet us when we came home.  I could get a little extra sleep, and pee without incrimination.  Win, win – right?

Uh, no.  You would think that I had suggested shooting puppies with pellet guns from the appalled vehemence of their reaction.  Whoever heard of preparing your mother brunch?  It simply isn’t done.  (At least, that’s what they tell me.)  Besides, I need to be in bed, which evidently is a huge part of the equation that I failed to understand.  Apparently, if I’m not lolling about in my pajamas, it doesn’t count.

I told them that I would cut them a deal, and happily change back into my pajamas at lunchtime and get into bed.  They aren’t  convinced yet, but I haven’t given up my campaign for a grand new tradition – After Church Brunch in Bed.  Heck, I might decide to don my PJ’s and spend the day in bed anyway, reading novels and eating bon bons, whether brunch is in the offing or not.

In the end, whether I end up with breakfast or brunch, pancakes or Panini, I’m thrilled that they love me and want to honor me.  They are a blessing to me, on Mother’s Day and every day.   They are loved more than they know, and I can’t imagine who I’d be without the privilege of being called Mom.  

I can, however, imagine a world where I sleep later than 5:30 a.m. on Mother’s Day.  Maybe 7?  7:30?  Come on, kids – work with me here!                                                                                                                                                              mom-48957_640

7 thoughts on “Breakfast in Bed

  1. Precious! Those are some sweet kids you’ve got, and they’re lucky to have such a great Mom. Good news, you probably only have 8 more Mother’s Day to enjoy (or endure) breakfast in bed. But when that time gets here it won’t feel like good news.


    1. Yes, I’ve tried to stay aware of the fact that I’ll miss these days once they are gone (even the ones that start at 5:30!). But then, hopefully, I’ll be a grandma soon after and that has rewards as well.


  2. Add to the panorama your husband showing up in the early afternoon, sheepishly clutching a hastily bought bouquet of flowers, and the day is complete. Hey, you’re not MY mom, right?
    Seriously though, I’m glad you are the mother of our children. Happy Mother’s Day!


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