21.5.18

Cooking Eggs

This is the Mother's Day card Ellie made for me in her Sunday School class.  I wish I would've known nearly 13 years ago that all it took to be a good Momma is to let them cook their own eggs!  Maybe I finally figured it out. 

This all started in January.  Ellie saw a video of her little bestie "cooking her own egg."  I wish I could post it here because it really was the most hilarious thing.  You just have to know CG.  Her facial expressions are out of this world funny!  That's really what made the whole video, especially when she dropped the shell in.  But as soon as Ellie saw it, she would have nothing but to "cook my own egg."  Every. day.  I am not even kidding.  

I am so not a morning person.  At all.  I prefer to not be spoken to before lunch time.  Just kidding.  Almost.  And I just really want it to be quiet.  No television, no nothing (I've never watched any of the morning news shows).  I'm so not a morning person that I don't even drink coffee or fix myself breakfast.  I do "make" my children eat breakfast every morning (because that's what "good" Mommas are supposed to do, right?).  I also don't keep cereal in the pantry so there's that.  That means I cook breakfast every weekday morning for them.  But now Ellie does her own.  Eggs.  Every. day.  And they can't be "white" (in other words, store bought) eggs.  They have to be the "ones that aren't white" (our friends have chickens and keep us in good supply).  The day that we ran out wasn't a good day for her.

So I taught her how to crack and scramble her own egg in the skillet.  She pulls the stool over to the stovetop and does everything herself.  I really should document that with her own little video, but I just haven't.  I'm too busy making sure she doesn't catch anything on fire (we have a gas cooktop)!  But, honestly, she could probably do it without me hovering over her.  She's that good now.  And it really is such a big deal to her.  There are many mornings that I'm just not up for it (like today), but girlfriend has to have her egg, and I love that something so simple makes her feel so loved and important.

For lots of reasons, Mother's Day isn't usually one of my favorite days.  I'm glad this year was different.  The week before, Mason has an orthodontist appointment.  They were giving long-stem roses to all the Mommas.  I love fresh flowers so very much and try to keep a vase of them on the counter as often as possible.  So I just loved this.  Of course, I didn't necessarily love the cost of the braces Mason is going to begin wearing this summer.  After four years of patiently waiting and three broken appliances in his mouth, we are finally ready for braces.    

Since my husband is so into technology (and obviously that little calendaring experiment went over so well), I decided to create a Mother's Day wish list ON MY PHONE and text it to him.  That went over mostly well.  One of the things I asked for was for the fan blades and window sills in the family room to be cleaned (which requires borrowing a ladder that's so tall it has to be hauled on a trailer).  Move over Kendra Scott and the spa.  Clean fan blades totally made my Mother's Day! 

Another thing I really wanted was strawberry shortcake.  I didn't put that on the list though.  I made it from scratch myself.  Even though there's no chocolate in sight, it's one of my favorite desserts.

And these are the Lord's three blessings to me that made me a Momma.  I'm quickly headed into a new season of mothering.  We'll have a TEENAGER in the house this summer.  No doubt about it, I'm not quite ready for that yet.  Give me a toddler, and I can nail it.  But a teenager?  Goodness.  I don't know yet what to do with that.

It's been 18 years since I spent Mother's Day with my own Momma.  You know, looking back, she just made it look so easy!  I never remember her getting impatient with us or frustrated with us or fussing at us.  (But keep in mind that I was the PERFECT child.  Just kidding.  Not really.)  She just did it with so much grace and poise.

I always wonder what my children will remember of their growing up days and how they will remember me.  There are many things I hope they'll FORGET.  Because most days, it's the hot mess express over here.  But, most of all, I hope they'll remember and know that I love them to pieces and gave them my very all.