Single Mom Struggles: The First Day Of School Pancakes

It’s the night before school starts. Although I’ve titled this ‘Single Mom Struggles’ I must admit I have an incredible husband, who temporarily resides five hundred kilometers away. Although my days of single motherhood are behind me (thank god) I’m finding tonight to be very reminiscent of years past. I’m exactly one two-year-old busier than last time I braved it alone, and I find myself rushing to create the perfect morning for my eldest on his big adventure into grade three.
Thanks to that fantastic new husband of mine and our blended family we have some new family traditions. Friday is pancake day.
Every. Freaking. Friday.
The only part I typically contribute to this weekly occasion is getting out of bed once they’re ready. Other days have been coined pancake days as well thanks to my husband’s golden brown perfectly round pancakes. Birthdays, holidays and especially the first day of school are also pancake days.
I had a big heart to heart with my eight-year-old today about grade three. He’s moving up to the big kids playground, and with that comes a change in routine and realization that this year will bring new expectations. His nerves, plus my absent husband, sent me into a mini mommy freak out about how to handle the first day of school.
This evening we went through the familiar routine: label the clothes, pick out clothes, baths and packing a lunch. It was only after everyone was tucked into bed I realized between getting myself ready for work, my two-year-old for daycare, plus getting the eight-year-old to the bus it wasn’t likely I’d have time to do anything, much less make (ugly sloppy) pancakes.
I got started at 9:00 pm. Every single mom (any mom really) knows anything that doesn’t get done the night before may not get done at all. That’s how I found myself in the kitchen flipping sloppy ugly pancakes at 9:00 pm.
Fifteen minutes later and exactly one pancake into the pan the smoke alarm started going off. Not just any smoke alarm, but the one in front of the toddler’s room. By the time I found a chair to stand on and turned it off I was a mess. How could I ruin the kids good night sleep by making these stupid …pancakes!
I ran back to the stove to see a charred black mess. I threw it out, poured a new one in, and went back to listen at the toddler’s door. Silence. Should I risk opening to door? Did the alarm scare him? The room was still quiet. Squeaking open the door would surely wake him, back to the kitchen.
It’s now 10:00 pm. The children are sleeping, the backpack is packed, a pile of (almost) okay looking pancakes is in the fridge and the table is set.

I know I can’t take away my kid’s nerves, but the first day of school pancake breakfast is ready to go, and I’d call that a win.
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