Big breakfast ideas

This morning as I fed Mary her breakfast in bed, I began to think of my own breakfast. What will I have?

I remembered the leftover homestyle potatoes from dinner out with the husband. I remember the leftover slice of corned beef from St. Patty's Day. And we have eggs! I'll make myself some corned beef hash!

We finish up breakfast in bed, have our stretch, play, and poop time on the bed. I gather everything and everyone and head down the stairs. With Mary in her bouncer, I start whipping up a delicious breakfast, ingeniously incorporating multiple leftovers. I feel like a food network chef.

Even Mary agrees. "Wow, mommy! That smells amazing! It's got me all ready to eat!" I look at my eggs frying. The last component of my hot, delicious breakfast. I slide the out of the pan and on to my plate. My beautiful, professionally plated breakfast on a Dixie plate. And I make my daughter's Second Breakfast. And feed it to her. As my hot breakfast, neglected, slowly turns cold.

Damn.

"Kitty mama" is figurative!

Now that Mary has had her first course (fresh) and is working on her second course (formula), we have been joined on the couch by our kitty, Reggie.

Reggie has always been a "mama's cat." He loves to make biscuits on the squishiest, most tender parts of me, all the while sticking his face somewhere dark like my armpit or the crook of my elbow. But now that Mary has come along, he must have decided that I smell delicious because he is actually trying to get mouthfuls of whatever is convenient -- my arm, leg, stomach. I'm worried he's eventually going to hit pay dirt, so to speak. That's just... not right.

I'm not really your birth mother, Reggie. I'm just a human who adopted you. I'm sorry. Please have mercy and don't bite me.

It starts.

Here it goes. Here I am sitting at my computer, staring at the screen, thinking, do I really want to do this? I mean, it sounded like a great idea while I was bumbling around in the kitchen, baking cookies and talking to my passed-out baby. "A blog! I should start a blog, and people might read it, and think I am funny!"

Then I heard my own mother's voice in my head: You are your own best audience. And she's right. I know she's right. I make myself laugh more than I make anyone else laugh. So, am I really funny enough to entice people to read a blog? Really, I am just another blip on the innernets. What's special about me, that others would appreciate enough to stop and read what I have to say?

Guess that will have to wait. Mary's still in the kitchen, and she is now calling me. She's hungry, dammit, and WILL have her lunch!!