When I was a little girl, my Momma made me silver dollars.
When I was around 7 or 8 years old, my mother would babysit my cousin when his parents would go out for dinner or needed a night off. While my cousin was at the house, my mother would make us dinner. But we didn't get the normal hot dogs and macaroni and cheese that some kids would have for dinner. Momma made us a special dinner, a grown up dinner.
She'd make steaks, baked potatoes, a side salad, rolls, and would give us Koolaid in wine glasses. We'd sit at the table with her and Daddy with candles lit and eat like grown ups. My cousin remembers that better than me and is one of his fondest memories (he still asks my Momma to make him dinner at 33, Koolaid and all).
Up until I was probably a junior or senior in high school, I've always had a hot breakfast. One of my fondest memories of childhood was sitting at the table during late September/early October. I would be ready for school: bag packed, teeth brushed, clothes on, coat ready at the front door. But I'd sit at the kitchen table waiting for Momma to finish with my breakfast. While I waited, I would look out the window at the orange sun rising over the house across the street, peeking through the red, orange, and yellow leaves that lived on the big oak tree I used to play marbles underneath. Sometimes breakfast would be as simple as a bowl of oatmeal or as extensive as pancakes, eggs, and bacon. But I always got a hot breakfast before I was dropped off or caught the bus to school.
She was also a pancake queen (she can make the hell outta some pancakes, real talk) and would make them for dinner on nights that required a breakfast theme. I would be help her with the pancakes by buttering them after she took them off of the griddle and we'd talk about our day. She would make normal sized pancakes for her and Daddy but would make silver dollar sized ones for me to eat (she'd do the same thing with her biscuits too). I would feel so special and so loved when she made me those silver dollar pancakes because they were specifically for me.
These are some of the many memories that I have of my Momma and her interaction with me during my childhood. Even though she worked a lot while I was a child, she didn't have to work as much as I do now (as a single parent) because she did have my Daddy in the picture. Because of this, she had more time to spend quality time with me as a child.
This morning she woke me up (I moved her in with me, another day, another post) and told me to make MIB some pancakes. I was really tired from the work week, the night before (unpacking and discarding all of our things), and had to go to work this morning. I told her that I'd make her some eggs and grits, but I didn't know about making her some pancakes. But she kept insisting, "Go make your baby some pancakes."
So I got up, ready to pull flour and baking powder out and there was a bowl of pancakes already mixed on the counter. I made the pancakes, eggs, and sausage and sat down with MIB and Momma and we ate breakfast. While we were eating, I started to tear up and told her that I appreciated her doing that for me because I didn't think I was spending enough time with her (because of my work schedule and other things I have to do for them). She told me: "Baby, it's not the quantity, it's the quality of the time spent with her that's most important."
With that, I dried my tears, watched my baby get syrup all over her shirt, and gave her another silver dollar pancake.