As we all know, this coming Sunday, May 8, is mother’s day.
I hope you all have fabulous plans for breakfast, lunch and dinner for that very special person in your life. It could be your mother, grandmother, stepmother, sister, sister-in-law, cousin, or aunt depending on your own particular circumstance.
Now, mind you, my mother was no June Cleaver. When she wasn’t running after me with the cook spoon hoping to teach me a lesson or two about bad behavior (hers, not mine), things were great. She was never able to catch up with me anyway, and after a while she relented to a mumbled word or two about payback when I had children of my own.
Regardless, the fact remained that she was still my mother, and now that I think about it, she was right. Once you have children of your own you find out first hand just how difficult it is to be a parent. Like I always say, these kids don’t come with a manual, but wouldn’t life be sweet if they did?
Anyway, back to Mother’s Day. Let’s make it simple and call this person “The Nurturer”. That special person who:
> changed your stinky diapers without voicing a complaint (does a gagging sound count as a word?)
> took care of your every need from dawn till dusk, or dusk till dawn if you decided to keep her up round the clock
> cooked your favorite meals three times a day, seven days a week just so you wouldn’t “starve” to death
> gained fifty pounds while “cleaning” off your plate
> came to your rescue when Frankenstein hid under your bed
> came to your rescue when Frankenstein decided to hide in your closet instead
> tolerated birthday parties that seemed to go on forever, along with the kids that never seemed to go home
> gave you an allowance for cleaning up your OWN room
> waited patiently on the sidelines through endless games of soccer, softball, basketball, football or all of the above
> waited patiently while you took endless classes in ballet, jazz, tap, gymnastics, diving or all of the above
> survived navigating you through the college application process AND the college visits
> worried to death when you started driving (and still worries to this day)
> gave you every opportunity she possibly could to become the best you could be.
I could go on and on, but since this is about food, I’ll stop here.
The earliest mother’s day gift I could remember giving my mom was breakfast in bed with a homemade card. The breakfast was simple and from the heart. I started preparing this for her when I was about six years old. To this day, it still reminds me of the smile it brought to her face, and how special it made me feel to see her without the cook spoon in her hand.
(To all the dad’s out there; this is a really great recipe to make with little kids on Mother’s Day morning. It gives them such a sense of accomplishment, and I guarantee that you’ll be making a second batch once you taste it).
Mother’s Day Toast
White sliced bread
• Toast the bread until golden brown and place on plate
• Spread toast with a thin coating of butter making sure to cover the entire surface
• Wait for butter to melt
• Sprinkle liberally with powdered sugar
• Sprinkle lightly with cinnamon
• Slice bread on a diagonal and arrange nicely on clean plate
• Garnish with banana slices
Since my daughter prepared this for me for my blog image, I’m feeling particularly warm and fuzzy. All that’s left to do is eat this Mother’s Day Toast and wish all mothers out there a Happy Mother’s Day!
P.S. I’m not washing this dish.
The Big Tine