blue and white checkered uniforms

I walk into the Ekisa kitchen at 7:15 a.m. Kids in white and blue checkered uniforms sit at the table, noisily waiting for their porridge and eggs. Jason's shirt buttons are mismatched, again. And I kneel down -still in sweaty running clothes and mud-caked shoes- to realign the buttons. I make a mental note (like I do every morning) to sew the button back onto Razia's dress this afternoon (like I intend to do every day) and know I will still forget. I walk around the table, straightening blue collars and buttoning the backs of dresses and giving good morning kisses.

Walter usually starts off the prayer (probably the sweetest prayer I've ever heard), blessing the mamas and the aunties and the porridge and the egg. The mamas hand out cups of porridge while I help peel the brown-shelled, hard-boiled eggs. Porridge first, then the egg. That's the rule. The sound of banging pots and laughing mamas comes through the window. There's porridge drips and crumbly egg yolks all over the table and floor and children's faces and my hands.

note: this picture was completely UNstaged. For real. Ekisa's love birds at their finest

When breakfast is done, we sit in the living room.. putting on knit blue sweaters and packpacks and beginning the impossible task of finding matching shoes.. Velcro straps and unzipped bags and inside-out sweaters everywhere. Water bottles and glucose biscuits (graham crackers) make their way into the backpacks. "Auntie! Auntie!" little voices cry, either needing help with something, or planing to use me as a human jungle gym in less than 2 seconds. Today it took a full 5 minutes to find Jane's shoes, which were hiding under the shoe shelf.

Jane stands there- socks inside-out, one pulled up to her knee the other rolled down to her ankle. Ditte comes out last, sleepy and grumpy and late like usual (I can't wait 'til this girl is an adult and drinking her morning coffee at the breakfast table. It's gonna be great). Walter is ready to go and being a sweet help, as always; telling me who gets which shoes, because I can never get it right. Razia is more interested in playing and laughing and running around than she is about making sure she has shoes on her feet when she walks out the door. 

I stand on the porch, watching a rush of little feet and school uniforms make their way to the car. And it's silly, but I feel like a bit of a Mommy- making sure good morning kisses are given to chocolate-colored heads, and uniforms are on neatly and properly, and there are two matching shoes on all feet. And standing there, I realize how much I'm going to miss my mornings starting like this.. with checkered white and blue uniforms at the kitchen table.