Muffin Day: Dad & Daughter Tradition

Beloved family traditions don’t always start out as beloved. Muffin day was hell at first. I hated it. My husband began muffin day in 2009 when our first daughter started kindergarten, and her younger sister joined them two years later. They lived for Muffin Day. I did not. To me, muffin day meant making lunches at warp speed before dawn. We lived 20 minutes from school, which made our usual early morning even earlier. While my husband showered, I begrudging pulled sleepy little girls from their warm beds, which lead to whining, threats of lateness and all around muffin morning unhappiness.

Blissfully unaware of muffin day’s darker side, a whistling and clean-shaven muffin day creator arrived in the kitchen to collect his two angels with backpacks, shoes and jackets on bouncing with muffin day excitement. (At least, that’s my perspective). With horns sinking back into our heads, we’d all wave farewells and blow kisses no matter how tense muffins mornings got. Van Halen thumped and vibrated from the car long after I could see them. A feeling of peace overtook me then remorse for my lack of patience and how nastily I’d rushed them out. I can still improve on that.

I attended two muffin days because I invited myself, which seemed suspicious to me. My sugary images of sweet-smelling muffin day smiles and chocolate colored ponytails bouncing on Dad’s knee were burnt when my husband took out a stopwatch. Over and over again he pressed them on weekly spelling words. This is muffin day? This is fun? I told him it was “unfun” and sad. He laughed.

One Friday when he was out of town, I tried my version of muffin day. “Let’s each try a muffin we’ve never had. It’s good to try new things,” Dimples disappeared as my younger daughter said...

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...on with his son. They even know the dogs: Maggie and Angel who wait patiently outside while their owners grab a cup of coffee to go. They told me many stories about these people as they walked by.

As I walked away from Muffin day, I caught a glimpse through the window of my seven-year-old daughter’s chocolate colored ponytail bouncing in the air. She turns eight this month, and that could be the last bounce on her Daddy’s knee. Beloved family traditions sometimes don’t start out as beloved. It took me five years to fall in love with muffin day. As much as I’d love to join them every week, a mother knows when to step back. It’s their time. In a crazy busy life, I don’t stop enough to gaze in amazement at my husband. I did today. Muffin day is a gift he created for all of us. I pray that one day, they’ll be sitting right there on the Friday before their weddings.