It seems to me I could name every Sunday post with Sunday Morning. Sunday mornings are good for us, all three of us. Sunday is the only day we can sleep in. School and work through the week, swim lessons on Saturday, but Sunday is leisurely. Sunday we have pancakes. Saturday is for eggs, Sunday is for pancakes. This morning Pumpkin Pancakes and I’m linking to the recipe because they were very yummy and not too sweet.
Sometimes one or both of the girls helps, sometimes they breeze in and out of the kitchen. They always know that’s where I will be. Sunday mornings, I’m in the kitchen with bowls, and towels, and flour and eggs and butter. Sometimes there is bacon, but we have not been to the farm in a couple of weeks, will go this afternoon, so the freezer is a bit empty. Ems made a fruit salad this morning….before I awoke. I came down the stairs this morning and she sat here at the computer and said,”I made fruit salad for breakfast”. Matter of factly. Like every eight year old makes a fruit salad before their parents get up. She amazes me that she knows her way around our kitchen. That she knows where the coconut, nuts, chocolate chips, bananas and grapes are and makes a beautiful fall salad. Out of all her talents I sense a real knack for putting food bits together.
So the table is set, and we all sit down in the sunlight of the dining room. Perhaps we will have music while we eat, perhaps not. We are all still in our pyjamas, we have none of us brushed our hair. Today we had no music, but started talking about Christmas, as I told them I was done my shopping for them and they told me they needed more craft supplies for the secret gift making sessions they are holding behind closed doors. “Tape, Mommy, we need more tape and glitter, green glitter”, makes me cringe a little. The gifts we were preparing to make for our feline and canine friends (cat balls and dog biscuits). When we would get our tree and could we possibly take Aunt Karen and Kevin.
We set ourselves into a Christmasy frenzy, and put the music on. This Warm December, a favorite. Then we dance, because that’s usually what happens in this house when you’ve been warmed by the sunshine coming through the windows, and your belly is full of pumpkin pancakes and you have the sweet sound of Jack streaming through the house. I grabbed Ems first and we twirled around until I picked her up to spin because she is still light like air, her legs wrapping around my waist, her face nestled into my neck. Then it is Boo, who starts up then drops to the ground as she’s made of bricks and so we dance and twirl and spin. She is a blur, always too fast to capture, Ems has gone and grabbed the cat to dance with, dear sweet Annabelle, who at age twelve now has the patience for dancing in the arms of a girl.
Then we are off in our separate directions, Boo coloring at the table, Ems in a corner with a book, me here at the computer. We will be off on errands soon enough, there will be the packing and preparing for school and work again this evening, but nothing, not anything can beat Sunday mornings here, the peace of a quiet morning at home and the feel of little girls twirling in your hands, and the security it brings like nothing in the outside world can shatter your peace.