I've had a rough couple of nights this past week... very little sleep, plus a 19 month old who STILL won't give up nighttime nursing (arrgh!), has made waking up in the morning a less-than-pleasant experience.
And if you knew me, like my family does, you would know that even on a GOOD day, I won't be the happiest of campers when I wake up.
I'm not (usually) mean -- I just don't want to say much, or do much, until I've had a chance to s..l..o..w..l..y face the fact that a new day is here and requiring my participation in it.
[my husband, on the other hand, is one of those "up-at-5:30-am-who-needs-the-snooze-button?" sorts. The kind that people like me don't like...oops! I mean people like me RELY on to get the morning moving.]
So, back to this morning.
After nursing Grace from 5:30 am to 6:30 am this morning (I know! grrrrrr...) my husband did the switch-off and told me to go back to bed.
Blissful, wonderful sleep.
I was awakened a little after 8 am by a knock on the door.
Kathryn, sweet girl that she is, came in quietly and said, "Mommy? Daddy and I made pancakes this morning... and I know you don't like pancakes... and he said that you had a rough night last night... so here... I made you some breakfast."
That sweet, wonderful, angelic 8-year old gave me breakfast in bed!!
She made scrambled eggs, and tried to make an egg/muffin sandwich -- however, she didn't know that you have to cook the muffin first, so it was raw.
She didn't salt the eggs (I'm a saltaholic), so they were bland.
And she made me tea, but put milk in it (something I never do).
And you know what? That was the BEST breakfast I've had in a mighty long time. The love in her eyes and her sheer delight watching Mommy eat something she cooked made everything taste fantastic, and I gobbled it up while we sat on the bed and read a Foxtrot book.
"We don't have to do great things... just small things done with great love."
That breakfast will be one of those treasured Mommy moments that is forever imprinted on my heart.