Of French Toast and Flowers

This Friday was eagerly awaited by my sanity due to the rupture of a week I had. The simple rupture has become a full blown lifequake on the workie poo side of life with a little overflow to my personal life. Today was sooo eagerly awaited that I jumped out of bed this morning in my beloved Luluemons and am still wearing them at work.

We have a tradition in our household that states Friday is French Toast day. No matter what's going on or how sick I may be sometimes, we've gotta have French Toast on the table. It gets my 9 year old son going on 16 out of bed pretty quick, gets him fed and he thinks it's truly special - just for him. He brags to his friends about it so much that they say 'when I go over to your house, can you make that French Toast?'

I whipped up the most faboo French Toast a mother at 730am can do, piled it on a fresh plate (fresh from the dishwasher!) and VOILA! Wait, where's the KID? Normally, he's already here chanting for his breaky-poo.

"Justin!? Where are you?" I call out, trying not to wake up my hubby.

"Putting on my shoes!" I hear from the back room. That explains a lot. What is it with boys and shoes? He's got like, two shoes plus his baseball cleats. How HARD is this? If it were ME, then putting on shoes would take like a half an hour. I'm a girl, you know.

Five more minutes go by. I decide to investigate.

My son is on the floor of his room, fully dressed, with clothes all around him, trying to tie his shoes on one foot while the other shoe has been unsuccessfully crammed onto his other foot. I fix the disaster with him because he's got 34 seconds to get to the bus and eat his breakfast.

I get him to the table as his backpack, papers, toys and only God knows what else is living in his backpack spills all over the floor.

Sitting on the chair next to him as he cuts up his Friday French Toast he says "Well, I guess you're driving me to school today, mom." I have to laugh at my child. Instead of the French Toast being the motivation anymore, it's become getting me to drive him to school on Fridays.

There's only two more weeks of school, so I don't press it. I smile at him and say '15 minutes, that's what you've got, then I'm outta here with or without you'.

After getting JP to his school with his stomach full of French Toastie Goodness, it's off to workie poo I go. Given superpowers by my newly purchased Starbucks soy latte, half-caf, I enter the realm of chaos empowered by the thought that I have, in fact, reached Friday almost totally intact with a stomach full of Friday French Toast and a son on time to school.

At work someone brings in some homegrown antique roses for the staff. All at once, everything melts away and these simple, delicate cream colored roses - tinged in pink and peach tones on their tips - fill the offices with their fragrance of springtime. I feel like I'm outside or in a fine garden that is very well kept up.

Sometimes it's the little things that really count - like these flowers on the edge of a frantic and unwelcome busy week. They help put things into perspective a bit, and give us the feeling that we are outdoors, even for a second. The flowers make us stop and breathe in, appreciating life itself and thanking God for everything, the beautiful, the chaotic and even for French Toast/Driving JP to school Fridays like this.