Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Mom's Breakfast

Mother's Day arrives on Sunday. Across the nation mothers will pretend to sleep while they listen with a combination of curiosity and fear to the sounds coming from the kitchen.  I served my mom breakfast in bed and my father was of the 'Mad Men' generation and ill prepared to have five kids in the kitchen helping with breakfast.  My husband and two boys faired better and I think today's fathers are more at ease in the kitchen than my Dad ever was.  No matter what the skill level and no matter how much chaos is created, enjoy your breakfast because the plate is filled with love. 


Don't You Dare Bleed on Mom's Breakfast
by
Erma Bombeck

A lot of things have been done in bed in the name of  love...but nothing comes close to the traditional Mother's Day breakfast in bed. 

On this day, all over the country, mothers are pushed back into their pillows, their bird of paradise (which blooms every other year for fifteen minutes) is snipped and put in a shot glass, and a strange assortment of food comes out to a kitchen destined to take the sight out to a good eye. 

A mixer whirs out of control,  then stops abruptly as a voice cries, "I'm telling. " 

A dog barks and another voice says, "Get his paws out of there.  Mom has to eat that!"

Minutes pass and finally, "Dad! Where's the chili sauce?"

Then, "Don't you dare bleed on Mom's breakfast."

The rest is a blue of banging doors, running water, rapid footsteps and finally, "You started the fire; you put it out!"

The breakfast is fairly standard:  A water tumbler of juice, five pieces of black bacon that snap in half when you breathe on them, a mound of eggs that would feed a Marine division, and four pieces of cold toast.  They line up on the bed to watch you eat and from time to time ask why you're not drinking your Kool-Aid or touching the cantaloupe with black olives on top spelling out M-O-M.

Later that night, after you have decided it's easier to move to a new house than clean the kitchen, you return to your bed, where you encounter beneath the blanket either  (a) a black jelly bean, (b) a planter's wart, or (c) a black olive that put the O in M-O-M.

And if you're wise, you'll reflect on this day.  For the first time, your children gave instead of received.  They offered up to you the sincerest form of flattery---trying to emulate what you would do for them.  They gave you one of the greatest gifts people can give:  themselves.

There will be other Mother's Days and a parade of gifts that will astound and amaze you, but not one of them will every measure up to the sound of your children in the kitchen on Mother's Day whispering, "Don't you dare bleed on Mom's breakfast." 

Past Mother's Day posts---




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