I know we apparently “gained an hour” this past weekend, but “time flies” is a saying because it’s true. The older I get, the more the world teaches me (sometimes in very brutal ways) that time isn’t guaranteed to any of us. That doesn’t stop me from rushing around from before dawn until after long after dusk, working, cleaning and cooking because that’s what I have to do. I admit, it’s not a great way to live, and I realize I need to find time to slow down.

Just the other day, my older son walked into a room I was in and I turned around and literally gasped in awe at the sight of him: He is becoming a man right before my eyes. He is so handsome, and he’s much taller than me now. He’s certainly not a baby anymore. Before I know it, he will be out living his life (as he should) and I will miss having him at home. I know I need to make the short time I have left with both of my kids count, and I have found one very nice (and doable!) way to accomplish that.

Over the years, my family and I have been lucky enough to take some very nice vacations. One aspect of those getaways that we love the most are the breakfasts. Why? For one, there’s always an abundance and great variety of foods served and two, we have the time to sit there and enjoy it all, talking to one another while slowly digesting our delicious meals and sipping on our hot drinks. No one is rushing off to drive to work or to catch a bus to school. There aren’t any games to get to. We don’t have any beds to make and I don’t have five loads of laundry waiting to get done. It’s always the part of vacation that we miss the most when we return home.

Last year, after a spring vacation to Turkey, we came home wanting to recreate the absolutely amazing breakfast experiences we had there and since then, every Saturday morning, I make it happen.

I’m an early riser by nature, so getting up before anyone else does on Saturday is a fairly easy feat for me, and I’ve always made a more elaborate breakfast on weekends as compared to what is served during the week, but I’ve kicked it up a notch over the last few months and it’s been great.

In the time that I have before anyone else is up, I put on a pot of coffee for my husband, a pot of tea for me and the kids, and I cook up a breakfast that would make Martha Stewart and Ina Garten proud. I change up the menu each week, but some of my go-tos include pumpkin pancakes, apple cinnamon waffles, potato and onion quiche, an assortment of cheeses, olives, tomato and cucumber salad, French-buttered toast or baguettes, and yogurt with honey. Sometimes I whip up a warm apple cinnamon oatmeal drizzled with maple syrup. I also make sure the presentation is as impressive as the cuisine. I serve everything in my nicest dishes, glasses, and cups and yes, I light candles and play some smooth jazz in the background too.

When my sons and husband wake up to the smell of whatever it is I’m making, they come down the stairs smiling and I get comments like, “It smells amazing down here!” or “I feel like I’m on vacation in Vermont” or “This is so cozy, Mom”. Then, we all sit down and enjoy the food, and one another’s company. We talk about our weeks, how we slept, what we dreamt about, and sometimes we share a few laughs. While we do, now more than ever, I soak it all in: The warmth of my kids still sleepy bodies as I give them a hug and a kiss upon waking, my youngest’s messy hair at the breakfast table, my oldest’s tenor-like morning voice as we chat about the upcoming day’s events, and the warmth of my husband’s hand on my cold one as he reaches over to hold it for a moment as a non-verbal “thank you” for my efforts. I am fully aware of these gifts, and I hold onto them because I know one day I will have to let them go.

I am aware that I am making my Saturday mornings sound perfect. They are not. I am not. Nothing is. The point I am making is that I try. It means a lot to me and to my family to have that time together and so, I try to make it memorable. If the pancakes are overcooked one morning or the tea is a bit bitter, it’s ok. If someone wakes up on the wrong side of the bed that day, we manage it. The point is not perfection. The point is to make the most of the moments we have together because those moments are fleeting and will soon become memories, and those memories, in the end, are the only things we can truly hold onto.