"a timelessly contentious issue." Snack Stack
Every morning my loving husband brings me breakfast in bed. If I was a cynic I could say he does it to curry favour, or that he just prefers not to have me around whilst he enjoys his early morning solitude. After all, with regards to the latter, many of us need those moments alone whilst we either face what the day is going to bring, or enjoy the calm and the peace.
I'm not a cynic though. Many indeed have said I am naïve. No, I really think he does it because he knows I am not a morning person and that it gives me time to come round. It's a loving gesture. And I really appreciate it.
We are not talking about anything fancy here. On my fasting days it's just a cup of coffee - black - it has to be black to wake me up. I remember this amused my French au pair employers hugely - the black coffee for breakfast that is. Although I certainly did not have it in bed. I was up and into the daily routine of looking after the baby and the two-year old.
At home on my non-fasting days there will also be a small food offering - jam with a croissant or toast or a crumpet. Sometimes a piece of fruit loaf. With a glass of orange juice waiting for me by the shower, so that I have something refreshing for my morning pills.
There may not be any flowers, or chocolates, or a beautifully arranged tray, but it is nevertheless a loving gesture that is much appreciated.
Of course this has not always been a regular feature of my life. The only time, as a child, that I got any food in bed would have been when I was sick. And maybe indeed the treat of food in bed made the illness slightly more bearable. It was sort of proof that your mother cared. You were being just a bit spoilt.
Once school started and for the rest of one's 'working' life of course, one was obliged to get up - very early when the children were very small, because they were early risers and needed to be kept quiet so that they didn't wake their hardworking dad. And in spite of really not being good in the morning, I did indeed manage this - with the help of that cup of coffee. I could still do it if I had to. Whilst at university I would occasionally skip breakfast altogether if I didn't have a lecture or tutorial to go to althoughl breakfast at university was a social gathering too so I didn't do that very often.
The only exception in all those years was Mother's Day - for a very few years that is - when the children were very young. I'm ashamed to admit that I do not now remember how elaborate those breakfasts were. Did I get scrambled eggs perhaps? Maybe, but more likely a croissant, which was a more luxurious item back then. And, of course, it was still, probably all down to Dad, if only to supervise. There might have been a few flowers though, or cards the children had made in school. Maybe even small gifts.
The tradition of breakfast in bed for mum on Mother's Day apparently dates back to the 1930s. It was certainly around when I was a child, because I vaguely remember taking enormous pleasure in doing it for my mother, with my sister and little brother in tow and dad ushering us up the stairs and into the bedroom - though I'm guessing that this job more often fell to my aunt, as my dad would, more often than not, have been away at sea, seeing as how he was in the merchant navy.
In spite of the potential for minor disasters like burnt toast, I do remember this as a treat and an expression of love. I was therefore somewhat appalled to find that almost all of the few articles on the subject that I found seemed to think that mothers hated it. Is this a sign of my naïvety? Why did they hate it? Well here are two typical quotes:
"It’s inevitably messy, usually unpalatable, occasionally torturous ... Grand gestures — like flowers, cards, and breakfast in bed — do a better job of making it look like we value mothers than listening to Mom when she says she’d rather sleep in and then fix her own coffee." The Kitchn
"the tradition of making breakfast in bed for Mom, on the occasion of Mothers Day, goes back decades—as does the widespread hatred by mothers of this practice, because they know who will be cleaning up the crumbs and the mess in the kitchen and the whole thing feels awkward." Snack Stack
I don't think I ever cleared the mess up. David is a great cleaner upper. And although maybe being taken out for a slap-up breakfast somewhere wonderful would have been an alternative, I'm sure I was just happy to be spoilt by my family for once.
Back to those crumbs. Yes there might be a few crumbs, but they are easily removed. I read that Nigella who sometimes likes to snack in bed, uses a snack towel to place the food on. As do we, although inevitably a few crumbs manage to miss the towel and get on to the bed. Particularly when it's a croissant. But on the plus side of that, croissant crumbs are more flakes and thus easily seen and easily removed.
Yet again however, when talking about breakfast in bed it was amazing how almost every article I read went on and on about crumbs in the bed. I can well see that people who watch television at night in bed whilst eating crunchy snacks may well leave a trail of debris scattered all over the bed - but not at breakfast surely? Not if you are just drinking a cup of coffee and eating a slice of toast . I agree with Emine Saner who wrote in The Guardian - such criticism is just:
"the warnings of pinched people who only see stains and crumbs, instead of the deep, cocooning pleasure of warm food under warm blankets." Emine Saner/The Guardian
One last thing about breakfast in bed, which is really more of a comment about those who seem to think that not being an early riser is a major fault. Once I have woken myself up with the coffee and eaten the crumpet or the toast or the croissant I read a bit of the newspaper. At the weekends this might be a long read, and thus it can be late morning before I actually get up. David would deny this, but I think he really thinks this is lazy. And so it sort of is, but why would it be perceived differently if I was up and reading the newspaper somewhere else? And why, why, why does it make you a bad person if you don't like getting up in the morning?
In those first heady days of marriage, at the weekends when the Sunday papers came out, the pair of us would have our minimal breakfast in bed and then read the papers. It was romantic togetherness, although somewhat destroyed by rushing to get to the shops in Oxford Street before they closed at midday, arguing about how late it was. Remember when the shops closed at midday on Saturday - almost all of them - and didn't open again until Monday? Now you can get anything anytime.
David likes to get up in the morning, so this all works fine in our house. But I have just realised that I'm actually being a bit sexist. What if we were the other way round. What if he didn't like getting up and I did? Would I bring him breakfast in bed? A question for another time perhaps. It needs more thinking about on my part.
Breakfast in bed. It's my major luxury in life. Now is it time for a crumpet or a croissant?
YEARS GONE BY
February 25
2020 - More quantity than quality - but still! - peaches from the garden
2019 - Nothing - obviously recovering from the wedding
2018 - Bruschetta - then and now
2017 - Rice pudding
I love being the provider of breakfast in bed. Part of a loving marriage! 😍