Crumbs of Affection

Mother's Day is upon us: a day when we appreciate all the moms and maternal figures in our lives by way of grocery store flower bouquets and hastily-purchased cards because oh shit, we forgot it was Mother's Day weekend already.

But there's one thing moms do that is totally underappreciated — hardly anyone ever acknowledges it, but deserves a reward in its own right — and it's this: eating the things your children proudly present to you as "breakfast" on Mother's Day.

The photo in this post is a perfect example. It's a Mother's Day breakfast of waffles from when Colin had just learned to use the toaster, but he was too impatient to wait for them to pop up on their own so he did it manually, resulting in Eggos that lingered soggily just above frozen. He then decided to tear them up (??) with fingers that no doubt had been in some dubious locations and were likely unwashed, drizzled them artfully with a flourish of syrup that he got all over the counter in the process, and presented them to me in bed. 

And you know what I did? I ate them, every last bite, as though they were the most delicious culinary delight I'd ever put between my teeth. He was so proud of himself, and I wasn't about to rain on his parade. The gesture was so sweet, and I gave him all the love and praise he deserved for doing it (... as I choked down bits of cold waffle and tried not to think about what microorganisms might be lurking on them or what was awaiting me in the kitchen). 

I did the same with the hairy ... yes, HAIRY ... Pop-Tart I once received from my children. I get the feeling it may have been licked and then dropped — from the looks of things, maybe more than once — on the way into the bedroom.

We love our children in a lot of ways that are not always visible. This is one of them. And that's worth an award, in and of itself. 

Now that my kids are older I don't get breakfast in bed any more. In some ways, this is okay with me (see: "soggy waffles" and "hairy Pop-Tarts"), but in other ways I miss it. Because behind the frightening concoctions that pass for breakfast are the biggest hearts, the sweetest intentions, and the pride that comes from showing love to the person you love most. They gave me a lovely fern last year, and as gifts go, it was perfect. It's now huge and beautiful and hangs in my kitchen window, and reminds me of the boys even when they're not home. But somehow, it just doesn't have the same level of love behind it as those disgusting waffles.

Still, they give me gifts in other ways. Colin — the mastermind behind those extraordinary Eggos — recently sent me this text. And it came absolutely out of the blue (it wasn't even Mother's Day!), which made it even more special:

So, moms of little kids, choke down your questionable breakfast this weekend, but focus on the bigger picture: your babies love you so much. And take heart, because you won't always get eyebrow-raising food offerings (or handmade Mother's Day cards addressed to DAD — yes, my children really did this), but you will get a different gift: the realization that the love behind it was so beautiful and special, and you'd eat a hundred soggy Eggos to experience that kind of little-kid love just one more time.