I remember when I was still a schoolgirl how many times my Mom made us kids a homemade breakfast.  More often than not we were eating scrambled eggs with toast, french toast, or pancakes.  I remember at times we would get on the bus and one of the other kids would say, “What did your Mom make you for breakfast this morning?” with a wistful look on their face. 

I was so blessed to have a Mom that would sacrifice the time and energy needed to make breakfast for five hungry children.

And now, I’m doing the same thing!

This morning was a pancake morning and as I stepped on and around the Lucky Charms that Caleb scattered on my floor, and did all the 101 things to pull off bacon and pancakes, I thought of those early years again.

Only this time, instead of a longing for the old days,  I felt a connection.  The connection between generations of women in my own family.  Grandma, Mom, and now me.  All making pancakes in our own time. 

Oh what contentedness I feel when doing these motherly things each day.  This morning it was like a wave of bliss.  Me in my nightgown and ponytail.  The children all still in their pj’s.  My husband drinking coffee and finishing a presentation for work over in his recliner.  Tears in my eyes from gratitude.

My recipe:

Mom’s recipe:

coffee’s getting cold
that last pancake is always a dud
i use a measuring cup to scoop the batter

my father in law makes syrup every spring and is so generous with it.  it’s lasted all year.

the evidence of the little ones in my life
i especially love the high chair and G’s little doll

“I can’t believe I’m
making pancakes for five children!”
~me, as I put baby in his high chair this morning