Tomorrow again

My husband left for China a week ago to work on Olympic-related tasks and suddenly I found myself waking up at 6:00 in the morning to cook breakfast.

Contrary to typical household arrangements, Casa Ruffolo Uno has the Dad cooking breakfast for three hungry mutants for most days of the year. I usually enjoy spending an hour in bed after I wake up to read or check emails.

But with Jeff gone for a week, I had to get up, put on my Mommy hat and cook for Nick, Toni and JJ.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day for our children and Jeff is to be blamed for it. He cannot go through the day without food and this power habit has brushed off on our children.

I usually miss breakfast so the last five days of cooking and serving my children revealed several realities that I failed to see in the mornings that I was absent.

Nicholas is my “good morning” kid. He is usually the first one to go down the stairs and heads to the refrigerator to have bread. A loaf of bread exists for two hours in our home. Then … it disappears like it was never there. Nicholas greets me every morning with: “Good morning Mom. It’s you. I miss you.” He says this like we have just reunited after a decade of being away from each other.

Antoinette is great in setting the table. She gets water for everyone. She says “please”, “thank you” and “you’re welcome”. A little girl with good manners, she can cook now after three years of observing her Daddy make meat loaf and homemade spaghetti sauce and meatballs. Upon Nicholas’ suggestion, we are opening “Karinderya ni Tonya” on December 27 with 30 children from Barangay Calawisan in Lapu-Lapu City. I will cook with Antoinette and I had her choose the menu. She chose utan bisaya and meatballs. We are having ice cream for dessert and kalamansi juice for drinks.

We are not selling anything. Nicholas’ suggestion was for Antoinette to cook for children so they can enjoy food.

Our youngest son, Jeff Junior, just recovered from a bout with pneumonia. Seeing him having his appetite back during breakfast makes me happy. A home with a sick child is stressful. It was evident in our home especially that JJ is a happy and perky child who sings “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” in the morning.

We had fried fish for breakfast two days ago paired with corn grits. The kids barely touched the food I prepared.

“We want bacon and pancakes. Dad makes that,” said Nicholas.

“No. You eat whatever it is that I cook,” I replied.

Antoinette reasoned that fish is for lunch or dinner. “Breakfast is eggs, French toast, bacon or pancakes,” she said.

And then, they did what I thought was unthinkable. They pounded their hands on the table and chanted “pancakes, pancakes, pancakes”.

I actually cried. I felt like a total loser. I did not even know what my children eat in the morning. In another life, I would not have cried over this scenario. But I am a mother and I guess I am entitled to be overwhelmed by my emotions and to always feel guilty for not doing “enough” for my family.

I got up to make some scrambled eggs when Antoinette held my hand and asked, “Are you okay? Are you alright Nanay?”

I shook my head and cried some more. With Antoinette’s signature flare, the unica hija faced her brothers and told them to stand up and hug Nanay and say “sorry”.

They led me back to the dining table. We sat down. It felt like an eternity of silence and then Antoinette said, “Let us pray.”

I watched in amazement as my only daughter led her brothers to pray and then ordered them to eat the “good fish”. She got up and served everyone with water. She did all these with a big smile on her face.

She went back to her seat. My 4-year-old girl held my hand and said, “Good to have you for breakfast Nanay. Tomorrow again, okay?”
Yes Inday.

Tomorrow again.