Mommy’s Breakfast

I’m really not sure why I do it. I could, and probably should, stuff a granola bar in my mouth and call it good. But some mornings I feel really ambitious and I try to sit down with a cup of coffee and a hot breakfast. I tried it again a couple days ago. This is what happened.

I made breakfast for the kids. Then I made some for myself and put it on the counter with a plate on top to keep it warm. The baby required about 20 minutes of attention before I could get him settled and sit down to my not-so-hot-but-still-warm breakfast.

William: Mommy, Georgie ripped the book!
Me: Uh, oh. Tell him to come to Mommy.

Me: Georgie, don’t rip the books. Wait…do you have a dirty diaper? Yep, let’s go.

Me: Ok, all better, Georgie.
William: Mommy, can I have some milk?

Me: Here’s some milk.
George: Juice!

Me: Georgie, here’s some juice.

William: Can we sit with you?
Me: Honey, I really need you to go play so I can eat.

George: Bite? Bite?
Me: No, sweetie. You already had breakfast.

Me: Ok, guys. Mommy needs to eat, so you’re going to have “room time” now.
William: Yay! I love room time!

Me: The gate stays up until Mommy finishes breakfast. Play quietly.

(Fighting, screaming, crying)

Me: That’s enough, boys. Mommy said play quietly. You need to be kind and share. Now I’m going to back to the table, so you need to work it out yourselves.

William: Mommy, Mommy! Can you please help me be a ghost?

George: Me! Ghost, too!

Me: There. You are both ghosts. Now I’m going back to the table and I don’t want you to call me again.

William: Mommy? Moooooooommy! I have to go pee.

Me: Ok, go potty and come right back.
George: Yay! Room time all done!

Me: No, Georgie. Room time isn’t over yet. William will be right back. Play quietly.

George: Mommy. Mommy. Mommymommymommymommymommymommymommymo –

Me: WHAT????
George: ……Hi, Mommy.

William: Mommy, I’m all done going potty. I need you to let me back in the gate.

Me: Ok, now Mommy needs to finish breakfast. I need just ten minutes of alone, quiet time. PLEASE.


Well, the quiet part never did work out. Neither did the “hot breakfast” part. But I figure I have many years of hot breakfasts ahead of me and only a handful of years to make ghosts and be called “Mommy.” So I’ll be happy with my cold clammy pancakes.

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