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I turned my head to bury it into my pillow, a soft groan escaping me. The baby monitor next to my bed was going off, my son's cries filling the room. "I'm coming baby..." I pushed myself up out of my bed, running a hand through my messy blonde hair. Bending down, I shoved my feet into my purple slippers, too tired to really register the fact that I placed them on the wrong feet. Standing up, I started to the door, only to freeze as I registered that the crying had stopped. Weird. Ally never stops crying before I get him out of the crib.
Moving a bit more cautiously, I tried to recall if my husband had arrived home late last night from his business trip. Shaking my head, I was about to turn back to my bed, figuring that I was just so tired that I was hallucinating my son crying for me. That was when a loud crash suddenly shattered the almost peaceful silence of the morning. Heart leaping to my throat, I charged out of the room. Sprinting to the tiny kitchen that came with the two bedroom apartment, we were saving for a new bigger one, I found a sight that, honestly was the last thing I expected to see.
Anna, her own long blonde hair still in the braid that I pulled it back into the night before was standing in front of the stove, the pots and pans scattered around her. The box of pancake mix was out on the counter, the flour scattered on the countertops. The bright pink mixing bowl that I used so many times I am amazed it hasn't faded from the frequent washing was sitting on the counter, filled with a soupy mess that clearly was supposed to be pancake batter. Ally blinked slowly up at me from where he laid on a blanket on the floor. Frowning, Anna shifted through the pots and pans, before carefully selecting the flat iron skillet pan that I always used for the pancakes.
"Anna? What's going on here sweetie?"
Startled, she whirled around to look at me, her bottom lip quivering just slightly. "I'm trying to make breakfast for you cause it's Mommy's Day."
Confused at that, I glanced at the calendar to see that it was indeed Mother's Day. "Oh... is there anything that I can help you with?"
Anna shook her head firmly, her lips pressed into a thin line to stop the quivering. "No!" Pausing, she glanced at her baby brother. "Okay, you can make Ally his bottle. But I'm making breakfast for you!" Turning her attention to the stove, she carefully set the pan on top of it. "Daddy's been helping me learn how to make pancakes by myself so that I can do this."
"Okay sweetie. If you're sure." I walked into the kitchen, grabbing one of the many baby bottles we had lying around as I did so. With practiced ease, I made the bottle for my youngest, my eyes occasionally darting to my daughter to make sure that she was being safe with the stove. She had it one and was holding one of our spatulas intently watching the pancakes bubble.
Picking Ally up, I placed the nibble of the bottle against his lip, which he quickly accepted. I smiled down at him as he hungrily emptied the bottle. As I watched him grow more sleepy as his stomach filled up, I noticed that his blue footie pajamas that he had worn last night was off, and his diaper appeared to be almost crooked. "I changed his diaper so that you didn't have to. It's your day Mommy." Anna must have noticed my awareness increasing as she carefully flipped the pancakes.
"Ah..." I made a mental note to readjust the diaper so that it was more comfortable for him after he finished his breakfast.
"Breakfast is ready, Mommy!" Anna walked over to the table, with a plate of imperfect pancakes in her hand. She carefully, proudly, sat it down at my spot at the table.
"Thank you, sweetie." I sat down, readjusting my hold on Ally so that he was supporting his own bottle, freeing up my one hand to eat with. I gingerly took a bite of pancake, noting that she definitely had room to improve... though...
I looked over to her as she sat down with her own plate of pancakes, happily eating them as her brother grew heavier (sleepier) in my arms. Maybe I was doing something right. Maybe I could relax and just let her have this one minute, this one moment, where she could take care of me instead of me taking care of her...