Making Breakfast for my Family on a Saturday Morning

I tried to sleep in, but I’m awake before 5:30 AM, as usual. The coming daybreak washes away anymore pretense of rest.

With a sigh, I open my eyes to the quiet darkness, as my bladder demands - and the desparately meowing cat; apparently, his bladder is demanding relief, too. (Yes, our cat appears to be house trained - he won’t “go” indoors.- convenient, but odd, as most cats like a litterbox. But I digress …) I actually enjoy being awake alone in the early mornings, but despise unravelling myself from the warm blankets of my shared bed, leaving my husband snuggled in so he can try to capture a few more moments of shut-eye on his own.

And now my mind is listing the tasks I need to get to today, the cat’s yowling and my bladder is screaming. I may as well get started. I find my slippers in the dark, take care of the cat, then my bathroom business. I check my email and messages, from the laptop, in the dim light of the kitchen. My husband joins me about twenty minutes later, starting a pot of coffee. As he checks his newsfeed by cellphone, I put away clean dishes, and wash some leftover dinnerware from the night before, so I can make breakfast. I decided yesterday on making an oven omelette with eggs from our own roaming chickens. This, in general, has become a weekend routine with variations in what we prepare for breakfast to enjoy with our cups of coffee in the silence of daybreak.

I chop up the sausage for browning in a skillet before it becomes the base of my egg-bake. I chop up some vegetables, also. Chopping vegetables is somewhat soothing and cathartic to me, especially in the mornings, when my hands work best. Except for working with the onion, which makes my euless tear up and my nose drip! A dozen eggs are cracked, with their naturally gorgeous golden yolks, into a bowl for mixing and seasoning, before being poured over the meat and veggies layered in a baking dish, smothered with slices of cheese on the top and dusted with parmesan. Now it’s ready for the oven.

While the oven omelette bakes, filling the house with mouth-watering aroma, my husband goes outside to feed the horses their breakfast hay. The dog goes out with him to do his own morning business and very important farm dog duties. The spouse returns the dog to the house and walks out to the woods. He wants retrieve the photo cards from the trail cameras to check the photos for deer.

The teeenager still sleeps while we enjoy some hot breakfast and discuss our plans for the day. It’s another quiet weekend, damp and rainy, but no snow yet. Unusual weather this far North in November, but appreciated.

Our daughter, our only child, finally leaves the solitude out of her bedroom, to join us in the kitchen. I could hear her rustling around earlier, but she prefers to languish a little in her own moments of silence. She feeds her cats and chickens before eating a piece of the warm, prepared breakfast casserole, which doesn’t compare to a sweet doughnut, but she eats it anyway without voicing her complaints. Someday she’ll recognize this act for what it is - a powerful love language. For now, I’ll just appreciate being able to prepare hardy food for my family, made in the quiet morning.

Thanks for reading! What is your love language, or what do you appreciate as a show of love toward yourself, and how do you show it to others?