Fruity Waffle Parfaits

Mother's Day. The second pandemic Mother's Day — well, the first, technically. The first Mother's Day where the mother can't be with HER mother. Mama is across town and might as well be across the ocean. I talked to her on the phone for an hour. She told me about every Mother's Day she remembers: the one where Kevin made her a card out of newspaper (he was six and didn't know the difference between construction paper and the Tennessean). The one where I made her breakfast in bed and spilled orange juice on the sheets. The one where Amber forgot entirely and then cried for two hours. "My best Mother's Days," she said, "were always the ones where something went wrong. Because wrong means you TRIED."

Chloe made me a card. Hand-drawn. A picture of our family: me (big belly, accurate), Chloe (taller than Jayden, important detail), Jayden (wearing a helmet, accurate), and a small circle inside the big belly that she labeled "Baby Mitchell." Baby Mitchell. The baby has a name on Chloe's card. Baby Mitchell. Not Pierre, not Marie, not Blaze. Mitchell. The family name. The name that means: you are ours before you are anyone else's.

Terrence sent flowers — not sunflowers this time, but a mixed bouquet, delivered by a masked delivery person who rang the bell and retreated like a burglar in reverse. The card said: "To the mother of three, from the man who got lucky. Happy Mother's Day." Three. He said three. The baby is included. The baby counts. The baby is real and counted and claimed by a man in Atlanta who sends flowers and calls every day and has a bag packed by the door.

Jayden's contribution to Mother's Day: he cleaned his room. Without being asked. He cleaned his ROOM. Toys in boxes, clothes off the floor, bed approximately made (the blanket was on the bed, which counts). I stood in his doorway and stared at the clean room like it was a solar eclipse — rare, brief, never to be directly looked at without protective eyewear. He said: "Happy Mother's Day. I cleaned." He cleaned. That's his love language. Chloe makes cards. Terrence sends flowers. Jayden cleans his room. Every person expresses love in the currency they have. Jayden's currency is a clean floor. I accept it with my whole heart.

I made French toast. Not Terrence's brioche French toast from last year — regular French toast, with regular bread, because brioche is a luxury and 2020 is not a luxury year. But I made it for myself. For me. Because Mother's Day brunch should be cooked by someone else, but there is no someone else in this apartment at 7 AM, so I cooked for myself and I served myself and I sat at my own table and I ate French toast with maple syrup and I said, out loud, to no one: "Happy Mother's Day, Sarah. You're doing a good job." And then I cried into my syrup because a woman telling herself she's doing a good job should not be the most emotional part of Mother's Day, but it was, and the syrup didn't mind.

The French toast I made that morning — plain bread, maple syrup, no brioche because brioche is for a different kind of year — was the best thing I ate all day, not because it was fancy, but because I made it on purpose, for myself, with intention. That’s the energy I bring to these Fruity Waffle Parfaits now: no apology, no waiting for someone else to do it, just layers of something sweet and bright assembled by your own hands for your own sake. Chloe drew me into a card, Jayden cleaned his floor, and I decided I was worth a real breakfast — and so are you.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 5 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

4 frozen waffles, toasted
1 cup vanilla Greek yogurt
1 cup fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced
1/2 cup fresh blueberries
1/2 cup fresh raspberries
1 banana, sliced
3 tablespoons maple syrup, divided
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
2 tablespoons granola (optional, for crunch)

Instructions

Toast the waffles. Toast waffles according to package directions until golden and crisp. Let cool for 2 minutes, then cut each waffle into quarters.
Prep the fruit. In a small bowl, gently toss the strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and banana slices with 1 tablespoon of the maple syrup and the cinnamon. Let sit for 3–4 minutes so the fruit releases a little juice.
Build the parfaits. In two wide glasses or deep bowls, place 4 waffle quarters on the bottom. Spoon 1/4 cup of yogurt over the waffles, then add a generous layer of the fruit mixture.
Repeat the layers. Add another layer of waffle quarters, another 1/4 cup of yogurt, and the remaining fruit. Sprinkle granola over the top if using.
Finish and serve. Drizzle each parfait with 1 tablespoon of the remaining maple syrup. Serve immediately while the waffles still have a little crunch.

Nutrition (per serving)

Fruity Waffle Parfaits — The Breakfast You Deserve to Make for Yourself