 It was a Tuesday. A ho-hum Tuesday. The middle of the week. Nothing
happening except the same old thing: work and school.On a day
like that, it's hard to open your eyes, much less get out of bed.
What's worse is that my husband and I not only had to leave the warm
cocoon of our bed and blink away the harshness of a flipped-on
light. We then had to rouse three sleepy children from their
cotton-candy dreams. Dreams that almost certainly did not include
things like multiplication tables, sentence structures and the
scientific method. Well... my 14-year-old might have been dreaming
about the scientific method.
Yet these were the order of the day for the children.
Basically, we were counting on past threats, cajoling and their
inherent respect for us to get the kids in an upright position and
at least go through the motions of getting ready for the day.
You can clearly see what a difficult feat this might be.
"Respect for my parents? Sleep? That's a no-brainer -- zzzzzzz."
However, we all have the power to create a mini miracle.
On that Tuesday, my mini miracle was in the form of cinnamon
rolls. It wasn't cinnamon rolls from the bakery, cold and slightly
stale. No it was the freshly baked kind, warm and oozing with sticky
icing.
Before you get any strange ideas about my nonexistent baking
skills, let me assure you that I am not suggesting that you get up
at 3 oh-my-gosh o'clock in the morning to start making cinnamon
rolls. That would definitely take all the joy out of it.
I'm simply talking about a tube of dough that you can procure in
the refrigerated section of your neighborhood grocery store. Yes,
those little tubes of miracles.
The first miracle was that I remembered that tube sitting on a
shelf in my refrigerator. Out of my dream-laden sleep, it called me.
My eyes popped open like a bagel exploding from the toaster. Miracle
No. 1
I got up, wandered to the kitchen, half-convinced that someone
already absconded with the cinnamon rolls. They were still there.
Miracle No. 2.
I turned on the oven and whacked that lovely tube on the counter
to split it open. An act of aggression first thing in the morning
clears the senses. Miracle No. 3.
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 Normally, I'd grab a banana and collapse on the couch for my
daily waking-up ritual. This includes staring at nothing for a full
15 minutes until a kid wanders in with a morning-readiness
transgression; like not wearing underwear. Nothing focuses a mom
better than imagining what the teacher will think if your child goes
to school without underwear.
When I went to wake my children -- more miracles! The youngest
simply lay there while I tousled his hair and said, "Time to get
up," in the raspy sing-song voice I reserve for early mornings.
He didn't move.
"I'm making cinnamon rolls."
He gave me the toaster eyes, smiled and asked how many he could
have! I told him there were eight of them. He immediately did the
math and concluded that he could have 1 1/2 cinnamon rolls. Wow!
Math calculations before his head had left the pillow!
Then I walked into my daughter's room. I cut to the chase and
sang, "Cinnamon rolls!"
Instead of the grumpy grunts and groans I normally received
during wake-up time, she sat up and grinned at me!
"Really?" she asked, excited.
I nodded, feeling like her fairy godmother. She gave me a big hug
and went to fight for her two minutes in the bathroom.
I went to my 14-year-old's bedroom and, wonder of wonders, he was
already standing up!
"What smells so good, Mom?"
"Cinnamon rolls!" I sang. My voice worked better every time I
said those two words, so he didn't cringe as he might have. In fact,
he looked ecstatic!
I was suddenly in a great mood, and I just knew that today was
going to be a wonderful day.
Cinnamon rolls and miracles will do that to you.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info.
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