Catch yourself
Bismillah…
I’m opening the refrigerator and clutching three eggs in one hand, a pitcher of milk, half an avocado and some cheese between my two hands and arms as I aim to get breakfast on the table for our family of 4 before shuffling 3 of us out the door to start our day. The clock is ticking and I know if I dilly dally, we’ll see the pink sign at our local free kids center telling us the room is full for the day. I hear the butter sizzle as my daughter comes down the squeaky staircase and plops onto the couch to thumb through the mastermind toys magazine after a sleepy Assalamualaykum. My 8-month-old Yahya is still occupied with the wooden spoon and bowl in his toy space, which means I have exactly three minutes before he starts crawling into the kitchen.
I fill the electric kettle with an estimated two cups of water. The comforting wsshhhh-ing sound begins. Ah, coffee is within reach. I take out my morning mug and unlatch the sugar jar contemplating whether I’m still having a sugar-free week or if I’m done with the torture. Half a teaspoon goes in.
Yahya is inching closer to the kitchen now. I’ve got to move fast. I take a spring onion and snip a few pieces with kitchen scissors into the pan before pouring in the beaten eggs. How in the world I lived without kitchen scissors before this year, I have no clue. Ah, I forgot the salt in the eggs! I sprinkle some on top as I hear the kettle make the familiar tuck sound as steam erupts from the kitchen corner. In goes my instant coffee, which I see is almost empty. Complete online grocery order gets added to my mental to-do list.
I shuffle back to the stove to flip the eggs as I feel tiny hands grab at my feet. Yahya is looking up with the face that yearns to be picked up and picked up now. I bend down and bring him up to my view. His whimpering ceases and relief washes over his face as he watches me single-handedly get eggs and toast onto a plate. But I wanted a sweet breakfast Mama, says Waliya. I try to ignore her request with a smile and questions about her toy magazine. She takes the bait. Crisis averted.
I wiggle Yahya into his high chair before quickly mashing a banana, realizing we’ve got to be out of the house in 15 minutes. I wipe off plates and cups, squint at crumbs, zip up jackets and sip a few more glorious sips, before pinning on my hijab and slipping on the most comfortable and simultaneously unfashionable shoes ever made – sketchers, before buckling my two kids into their seats. We are fed, warm, and on our way.
It’s in these moments, I catch myself being exactly where I am meant to be.
Writing Prompts // Reflection
Write the details of your most common morning. What sounds, images, thoughts and dialogues come up for you.
Think back to a time when you imagined having what you have now. Write as if you went back in time and compare to that to your response for number one.
