It’s Not About The Unwanted Pancakes

Saturday evening I drove to three different stores to put together the kids Easter gifts.
I was beyond excited to find a pancake mix for Samuel that was dairy and egg free….I know I can make my own but I didn’t want to bother with an egg substitute and trying to get the consistency right.
The plan was to make a nice breakfast for them since we weren’t going to church or doing any egg hunts since the youngest two haven’t been feeling the greatest with this crazy weather….asthma and allergies are kicking our butts again.


I was already in the process of making pancakes for Samuel when he came into the kitchen asking about that good smell.
He smiled and danced around after I told him I was making pancakes that he could eat and we were having bacon.

After I finished with the batch of pancakes for Samuel, I started on the girls, and once I had a decent pile on the plate I made their plates and called them to the table. All three kids said they didn’t want pancakes, they only wanted the bacon. That made me mad. I went back into the kitchen and started ranting under my breath about how much time I spent last night driving to different stores putting their Easter stuff together, looking for a pancake mix that Samuel could eat, and standing in the kitchen an extra amount of time cooking said pancakes.
Then I started thinking about how they don’t appreciate anything I do but they certainly know how to expect.
That turned into ranting about what a thankless job motherhood is and even more so as a single mother!

I went on and on about how I wasn’t going to buy them anything else, this is why I don’t cook as often as I used to because they would rather eat nuggets and hotdogs. Why waste my time standing in the kitchen when I could be relaxing on the couch with Netflix? That’s what I really wanted to be doing.


Then I realized it wasn’t about the unwanted pancakes….it was that I have been working, mothering, nurturing, driving to dentist and Dr’s appointments, listening to and reading stories, telling, asking, doing, being, thinking, planning, and shopping for weeks with no breaks.
I am exhausted and I wanted someone to thank me. I wanted someone to tell me they see and appreciate all my hard work.
I wanted my kids at the ages of 10, almost 8 and almost 5 to say thank you mom….I wanted some form of recognition.
Sometimes I wish I could explain to them all that I do as a single mom.
I want them to see and know how hard I’ve worked and everything I’ve been through to get us to the place we are now. The days where I felt completely tapped out but I didn’t snap… all the times when I wanted to give up because life was just too hard. The sleep deprivation that comes with setting my alarm every 2hrs to give breathing treatments. The thought that goes into making sure the cups and plants I picked out represent each childs unique personality, and the feeling I get when I see how happy they are with their gifts.

You know what my dad said to me about all of this? “They’re kids! They do appreciate to some degree, but they don’t have to and this is what parents are supposed to do.”
It’s not what I wanted or needed to hear but it’s the absolute truth.
It is a thankless job and we do what we need to do for our kids. I’m still a little irritated about the pancakes.
Maybe they’ll eat them later and maybe they won’t. It really doesn’t matter when I step back and look at the big picture.

I know that I’m doing the work of two parents and I know I can make it look effortless at times. No one sees me when I’ve dropped my large, salted caramel mocha Starbucks on the ground, picking it up while my drink pours out of both sides of the broken cup. No one was around to see me throw my bags to the ground and mumble bad words, almost crying over a very expensive coffee that I was enjoying as a treat to myself for making it through several very rough days.


My kids aren’t here for me, I’m here for them. There will come a time when it’s about me and I have to accept that it’s not in the near future. I have bi-monthly nights out with friends, the occasional trip to the store alone, and that’s great, but I’ll be in the midst of motherhood for many more years. We’re going to have a lot more unwanted pancake moments and I might rant about it. Am I still going to expect a thank you? Sometimes. Will I always get it? Nope.
That’s the way parenthood goes.

One day they will know and see everything I’ve done. Will they appreciate it? I have no idea!


p.s. Samuel and Kiah ended up eating several of the pancakes for dinner last night.

Whats Your Story April Writing Prompts


14/52 What’s Your Story?
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