The Sweet Stuff
Bittersweet. That’s the only word to describe this Monday morning. My little J leapt into his daddy’s SUV with a big smile and a small wave and off they went to the first day of preschool. I stood in the driveway and waved back but I knew he wasn’t even looking. That was the bitter part: My little guy is growing up.
The sweet part, other than how adorable growing up can be (check out that preppy little collared shirt and cargo-style shorts!), is this bit of time to myself every morning. I’m slurping coffee and the only thing I hear (other than the slurps) is the tip tap of my keyboard. Even though it’s only for 3 hours every morning and even though I know it’ll come to a wailing halt when the babe arrives in 3 months, it still feels great to just be me again.
It’s especially heavenly to sit here in peace after the past couple of weeks. You probably don’t know that our house is on the market. Yes, we’re moving. No, not back to Canada (sorry), nor to that “proper” (though riotous, lately) land of my hubs. We’re moving 8 miles North West of here to a sunny house on a little lake. It’s my dream to live by the water and I haven’t quite gotten myself to believe that it’s actually going to happen, that one day soon I might be slurping my coffee while looking at this:
That is, assuming we can get this darned house sold first! Thus the chaos lately.
Getting ready for house-showings with a toddler and all of his toys underfoot is hard. Even harder is trying to find somewhere to take the little tyke when the showing is happening. Last Tuesday, just as the prospective buyers were entering through the front door, I realized that I could not find J’s shoes. I picked him up, carried him out the back and plopped him shoeless on the sidewalk. “Well, I guess we can’t go far. Can you walk barefoot to Miss Wiz’s? We’ll go see if the boys want to play.” I ushered him along quickly afraid that the prospective buyers would see us out the window and think the house was owned by a bunch of hillbillies.
We went two doors down and crossed our fingers as we knocked on the neighbours’ door. Yay! They were home. A hectic day was clearly underway there too (but then, when is it not hectic in a house with three sons and two dogs?). We went into the kitchen and Miss Wiz promptly began tidying up.
I said, “Please, don’t worry about this tiny bit of mess. At my house right now there’s a sinkful of dirty dishes under the bed and a bunch of cups in the dryer. Who am I to judge?” No, I don’t normally store plates under the bed. I ran out of time getting ready for the showing and found myself running around with an armful of dirty dishes looking for a hiding place. Oh gosh! Maybe I am a hillbilly.
That’s been life lately.
But now I get to sit here and write about it, and that feels pretty darned good. It also feels pretty darned good to finally see my little guy at the end of his preschool mornings. When I get to his school he’s playing and clearly having a blast. But not such a blast that he doesn’t run at me like a maniac. Very sweet. So sweet that I keep wanting to spoil him with sweet stuff in return. And so spoil him I have.
Over the next couple of weeks I’ll be sharing two sweet simple recipes that I’ve developed for just that purpose.
First up will be Strawberry White Chocolate Pancakes (with whole wheat flour and wheat germ, but J doesn’t know about that).
I’m tempted to throw in a recipe with olives since my kid loves them in a ridiculous way. But they’re not sweet so they don’t quite fit in with this theme. We’ll see.
Thanks for reading and for sharing this peaceful morning with me.
I’ve really enjoyed it.