I force my eyes open and through the filtered twilight in my room stare at the clock in disbelief. 7:12 am. I am greeted by a one year old who quickly decides that he'd rather play than snuggle, who is in turn greeted by a sleep deprived daddy who is less than amused by Jevan's playful antics. Apparently he doesn't appreciate being a jungle gym right now.
So, I rise, skillfully pulling on a hoodie while still holding the baby. We tiptoe downstairs, already with a to-do list-- coffee. I get Jevan settled with some toys and take a sip of fresh-brewed life-sustaining nectar (with a splash of Chocolate Eclair creamer) and feel the stirrings of my days ambition. I decide to make chocolate chip banana bread, and while that is baking my mind wanders... I look around the house and my thoughts are quickly brought out of the intoxicating dreamland to the reality that I have company coming to stay and my house, well, looks like I have two kids and a dog. I reluctantly leave the sanctuary of the keyboard and my coffee and reach for the dust rag.
One room down and I am hailed from the top step by a sleepy-eyed Lakai. Carry me, he says. We come down and again I reach for the dust rag. Don't put me down, he says. So I bend, and twist and reach, contorting in ways only a mom can to get the dust off the window sills behind the couch and off the piano. The oven dings, and my back and arms are relieved for the time being.
I pull breakfast from the oven. You makin brownies, Mom? Nope! I say. It's banana bread. I NOT LIKE BANANA BREAD! I WANT BROWNIES! Well. I glance down at him matter-of-factly, We're not having brownies. Why? Because we don't eat brownies for breakfast. Why? Because... (I pause. Brownies for breakfast really does sound amazing right about now) WHY? So I give him the most honest answer I can think of. Because we're out.
We decide on oatmeal while the bread cools, and Lakai concedes that banana bread is an acceptable substitute for brownies. I find Jevan, who has occupied himself playing with a dog toy, and strap him into his highchair. I look through a row of small glass jars and decide we'll see what he thinks of pureed mango. I sneak a bite into his mouth between fistfuls of cheerios. He reciprocates with a wrinkled nose and a shake of his head. Undaunted, I go for bite two. And the crowd goes wild! It's in! SCOOOOOOORRRRE! Whew. Half a jar down, and he starts grappling for the spoon. Okay, I say. You do it. I load up the spoon and hand it to him. He opts not to grab the handle, but the small mound of yellow mush, then notices his foot resting against the tray. He grabs his toes, firmly squeezing them and I see mango squish between his toes. Awesome. After a few minutes of him mauling the spoon I am able to divert his attention and grab it back. My attempt at reentry is thwarted as slimy fingers wind their way between mine and grasp the spoon. This time it goes into his mouth sideways, like a dog carrying a bone. Over my shoulder I hear Lakai. We have piqued his interest enough that he has stopped chanting "Diarrhea" and giggling at himself to watch as Jevan dodges my grab for the spoon, flicking tropical goop across the kitchen and sticks the spoon back between his four large teeth. He looks at me, wrinkles his nose and gives a triumphant grin. Breakfast is over.
So, I rise, skillfully pulling on a hoodie while still holding the baby. We tiptoe downstairs, already with a to-do list-- coffee. I get Jevan settled with some toys and take a sip of fresh-brewed life-sustaining nectar (with a splash of Chocolate Eclair creamer) and feel the stirrings of my days ambition. I decide to make chocolate chip banana bread, and while that is baking my mind wanders... I look around the house and my thoughts are quickly brought out of the intoxicating dreamland to the reality that I have company coming to stay and my house, well, looks like I have two kids and a dog. I reluctantly leave the sanctuary of the keyboard and my coffee and reach for the dust rag.
One room down and I am hailed from the top step by a sleepy-eyed Lakai. Carry me, he says. We come down and again I reach for the dust rag. Don't put me down, he says. So I bend, and twist and reach, contorting in ways only a mom can to get the dust off the window sills behind the couch and off the piano. The oven dings, and my back and arms are relieved for the time being.
I pull breakfast from the oven. You makin brownies, Mom? Nope! I say. It's banana bread. I NOT LIKE BANANA BREAD! I WANT BROWNIES! Well. I glance down at him matter-of-factly, We're not having brownies. Why? Because we don't eat brownies for breakfast. Why? Because... (I pause. Brownies for breakfast really does sound amazing right about now) WHY? So I give him the most honest answer I can think of. Because we're out.
We decide on oatmeal while the bread cools, and Lakai concedes that banana bread is an acceptable substitute for brownies. I find Jevan, who has occupied himself playing with a dog toy, and strap him into his highchair. I look through a row of small glass jars and decide we'll see what he thinks of pureed mango. I sneak a bite into his mouth between fistfuls of cheerios. He reciprocates with a wrinkled nose and a shake of his head. Undaunted, I go for bite two. And the crowd goes wild! It's in! SCOOOOOOORRRRE! Whew. Half a jar down, and he starts grappling for the spoon. Okay, I say. You do it. I load up the spoon and hand it to him. He opts not to grab the handle, but the small mound of yellow mush, then notices his foot resting against the tray. He grabs his toes, firmly squeezing them and I see mango squish between his toes. Awesome. After a few minutes of him mauling the spoon I am able to divert his attention and grab it back. My attempt at reentry is thwarted as slimy fingers wind their way between mine and grasp the spoon. This time it goes into his mouth sideways, like a dog carrying a bone. Over my shoulder I hear Lakai. We have piqued his interest enough that he has stopped chanting "Diarrhea" and giggling at himself to watch as Jevan dodges my grab for the spoon, flicking tropical goop across the kitchen and sticks the spoon back between his four large teeth. He looks at me, wrinkles his nose and gives a triumphant grin. Breakfast is over.
