Raspberry and coconut breakfast balls

Now doesn’t that sound twee?  I might just pop into the kitchen and don my apron for that morsel.  Or not.  I’ve made those ball things before and let’s just say. .. There’s a reason they’re a Christmas thing.  You get to drink the rum to prepare you for rolling all those balls.  Think we’ll stick with toast or cereal. .. They come in packets.  Packets are good.
I get a bit overwhelmed when I read my parenting news feed.  I wonder if other mums feel that way too?  I wonder how many dads have all that stuff on their news feeds?  Or is it just a mum thing?
Today’s revelations included why dad should get up at night (hmm do they suggest you tag him in that one? ), 42 rainy day activities,  10 reasons why school sucks for adults (presuming that the fact they escape personally educating their child for 5 days a week isn’t one of them?), a light with plants growing out of the fitting (what could go wrong there?  Water. Electricity.), let’s not forget painted mason jars,  cake in a Mason jar,  a wall vase made out of a Mason jar and salad in a Mason jar.  I suggest eating the salad first then because you’ve been good you get to eat the cake as a reward.  Maybe you could fill a Mason jar with raspberry coconut breakfast balls?
For some of us the up coming school holidays spell disaster.  All the usual routine activities are in hold.  The only problem is that nobody told the toddlers that there is such a thing as school or school holidays. Unless of course they have siblings. .. which become the school holiday entrainment.  Wrestling,  debating,  fun games like monopoly. ..
These next two weeks will be hard.  Miss Bee will miss her routines and friends.  Me. .. I’m kind of looking forward to some down time.  I feel the need to declutter and this next fortnight seems ideal.  If I can manage it with Miss Bee under my feet.  Today the little darling literally launched herself at me from one lounge to the next.  It is crazy.  It is annoying.  It cramps my personal space.  But it’s also delightful that she wants to be ON me.  Stuck like glue to my legs while I try to say cook a meal.
Sometimes it’s hard to realise just how central to her entire world I am. Each morning she calls mum mum mum.  Now it’s evolved to mum. .. dad. … mum. .. dad. When she sees me first thing in the morning she is bursting with excitement.  Her little legs do this tap dance… like a happy dance.  She reaches for me, reconnecting.  I know before long this time will change.  She’ll outgrow this stage.  She’ll still love her mummy but maybe she won’t be quite as excited to see me.  Let me enjoy it a little longer.  Hold on a little tighter.  Kiss her with tender smooches.  Whisper I love you one more time into her ear as i carry her heavy sleepy body to her cot.  Is it just me who watches their baby sleep?  Watches their chest rise and fall. Celebrating their life.  Hold back a tear for those mothers who stopped to watch their babies breath only to find them lifeless?
I hold her grubby chubby toddler hand and look at her mess of curls and pray I could pause this one day and keep it to relive it in my twilight years.  Savour those dimpled knees.  Breath that freshly washed hair and run my hand gently down her soft smooth back. I’m but borrowing her.  I’m the carrier of her inner dreams, the creator of childhood memories, a compass, mirror and soft enveloping arms of protection.
I forget to make raspberry coconut breakfast balls because I’m too busy remembering to love her.


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