hot cakes

i awoke this morning with renewed vigor.

the kind that begs for something special to occur.
a vigor that often results in lunches beneath home-made tents or absurdly elaborate paper-mache robot costumes.

i knew right away when my first born was still enjoying peaceful slumber at the unearthly hour of 7:05 am that i had just enough time to put my vigor into action.
chocolate chip pancakes would be our platform into breakfast perfection.

i snatched second born (who is always first to awake) and snuggled him on my oh-so-ridiculously-strong left arm.

straight away, we took to mixing and pouring and flipping.
it was a plan of seamless formulation.

1 child on arm.

1 child in bed.

1 box of krusteaz.

(as a side note: if you have never tried this brand of perfection, i would highly recomend it's unbelievably delicious "just add water" forumula. you will never return to any other brand. guaronteed.)

we chose fresh blueberries as a side item, as an attempt to justify my tooth-rotting chocolate choice.
i secretly wondered which delicacy my first born, fruitly fanatic child, would be enticed by more...my motherly intuition would be put to the test.

rowan and i marveled at our lovely piles of pancakes.
well, i marveled...rowan taste-tested.

we snuck upstairs to foster's snoring bedside...

me: "buddy wake up! we made you chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast!"
foster: (with sudden alertness usually unknown to a sleepy 2 year old) "really? chocolate???"

me: "yep, and a special surprise on your plate, too!"

foster: "special???!!! surprise???!!!" his feet barely made contact with the flooring as he bolted for the kitchen.

moments later, his delight was fulfilled as he spotted the blueberries nestled beside his chocolaty delight.

my intuition was correct.

first to be devoured: blueberries.

after 3 rounds of gooey hotcakes

more blueberries.

it is mornings like this that help me wake up tomorrow with continued resounding vigor for life. finding special in the everyday littleness that otherwise easily entangles me with doldrum monotony.

it is mornings like this that help me forget about the cheerios crunching on the floor, the pile of 5 loads waiting to be folded, the dexterous state of my own disheveled appearance.

it's the enrapturing delight. the abundances of love. the endearing laughter.
it's a morning that lets me remember being a mom has nothing to do with the things that i make it to be.

super mom doesn't exist.
but i do.
and although my kids will never look at me and see a shining cape with a floating perfection of details, hopefully they will see the joy i take in the little things that get us though our day.