The kids and I had our first regular sit down breakfast of the school year. I made strawberry banana pancakes. (We ate them with some of the marionberry syrup that our lovely neighbors brought to us from their family trip to Oregon this summer. Yum!)

Making breakfast for my kids is one of the routines that I love about our mornings together. It is a meditation of sorts for me. We'll occasionally have pancakes, waffles and French toast. Regularly we have oatmeal, yogurt with fresh fruit and granola, toast and fruit (often with our homemade jam), and sometimes we'll have eggy breakfast sandwiches (now with local eggs from my lovely neighbor's chickens).

I learned long ago, mostly from my father, that meal preparation is a tangible act of love. In setting the table with our lovely blue and white plates, making minty tea for Maddy in her new happy face mug, letting Levi pour milk on his cereal from a small pitcher, I am loving them. And whether or not they realize this fact, the point is that I know. I must feed them. I choose to make this time a little bit more special when I am able.

These days I am taking some time for quiet and some yoga in the morning. I am cutting back on caffeine and I am often making my bed. I'm never going to be perfect. I may holler at my kids while they eat the meals I prepare. I will fail miserably at things that are important to me some days. But some days I'll do some things well. And I will feel hopeful. Today I feel good about the pancakes.

Even though Maddy said she could do without the bananas. Sigh.

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