The First Pancake

Last week a friend and I were lamenting over the difficulties we have had with our oldest daughters, and marveling over how some things were so much harder with them than they were with our subsequent children. It has to be some sort of universal law, it seems, that the oldest child tends to be more difficult in many ways. Now of course Kate is wonderful and I love her to pieces, so don't get me wrong - this is not a complaining rant against her at all. We were just musing over how hard it is to get the hang of this whole parenting thing the first time around. My friend compared first children to the first pancake, which we all know just doesn't ever cook quite like the ones that follow. She laughed and said, "She's the first pancake!" And I laughed and agreed.

Now I have some extra experience with first pancakes, seeing as I am one myself. Obviously my parents did a fabulous job with me, seeing as I turned out so wonderful and perfect, but I will admit that I recognized during my childhood these moments of "practice." I observed, as did my sister right behind me, that we had more rough patches and disciplinary issues than did our three brothers who followed behind. (Now I'm not going to pretend like there were not any personality issues in play here too, because our three brothers are all rather calm and docile, and my sister and I are completely crazy.) But I remember a time in my older childhood or perhaps my teens when I looked back and thought, "I was definitely the 'practice' child!"

Not that there's anything wrong with that, mind you!

There has to be a practice child! It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it! I tell you, I was totally up for the task. Whether it was being stuck with diaper pins, wearing said diapers out in public without the plastic cover on top, being dropped out of my infant seat, or successfully conning my parents with the good ol' if-Mom-says-no-ask-Dad trick before they figured out how to nip that one in the bud (all true stories, of course), I was the perfect material for practice. And, for the record, so is Kate. We roll with the punches. We don't take it too hard; we understand it is our important role.

Let's skip to yesterday, when Kate asked for crepes for breakfast. I poured the first scoop of batter on the hot pan and swirled it into a perfect circle, knowing exactly how it would turn out. In fact, my grandmother's recipe for crepes specifically says in the instructions to make the first crepe and then throw it away. I immediately thought of our conversation the other day about the "first pancake." As I watched it cooking, ragged edges warping, Kate came over and peered over the side of the pan. "Is it hard to make the first crepe?" she asked thoughtfully, and may I add, poignantly. She was clearly referring to its dilapidated state as I flipped it onto the plate. I told her yes, and that usually the first one is just a little trickier as you're getting started.

But you know, those crepes are all made of the same stuff, and the first one always tastes just as good, even if it does seem a little rough around the edges.

And it may interest you to know that when all the later, perfect crepes were gone, who reached for that last (first) pancake on the bottom of the stack but Kate.

Now let me add a few notes on the strengths she brings to our family, and they are important ones because they are new. (As in, ones I definitely don't have.) She is endlessly concerned about other people and loves to nurture. I'm not saying that I'm not a nurturing human being, but... okay let's just be honest and say it doesn't come as naturally to me as it does to her. Yesterday Brooklyn was sick with a fever, and the only way Travis knew (I was out) was because Kate noticed she seemed sick, so she put her on the couch wrapped in a blanket and took her temperature. Then she brought the thermometer to Travis. She spent the rest of the day watching over her sister on the couch, bringing her food and drinks and a little notepad with a list of checkmarks for her to circle if she felt well and a list of Xs for her to circle if she did not. (She circled all the Xs.) She set up her own coloring on the coffee table beside her so she could spend the afternoon without having to leave her side.

Then tonight Kate couldn't sleep because a little friend of hers had cut his hand at church, and she couldn't stop worrying about him. She made me email his mom to make sure he was okay.

Yesterday I got my arm stuck underneath a dresser (don't ask) and had to call for Travis to come help me. He tipped the dresser just enough for me to pull my arm free, then walked away shaking his head and saying, "If you lived alone, you'd be dead." And I said, "I know. Are you afraid to leave me alone next month?" (when he'll be away on rotations), to which he replied, "No. Because you'll have Kate."

And he's right. She will definitely take care of me. I tried to explain to her that this is what she does best - taking care of other people and always knowing what they need before they themselves even know they need it. She gets down on herself sometimes because, as the youngest (and certainly smallest) member of her first grade class, she feels like she is always the slowest and the littlest. (Which is just what necessarily comes with being the youngest! A role she is not used to, by the way) She sometimes feels like she isn't good at anything and really takes everything very hard if she's ever corrected or criticized in some way. So she was surprised to hear she had a trait that I thought was so valuable and even envied - that I wished I could be more like her.

And now, in case I've made you hungry, here is that crepe recipe. There is no need to discard the first one. It might look like you need a little more practice, but I promise it will taste delicious.

[As a matter of interest, this is the recipe my childhood friend transcribed for me when we were in junior high. The original copy is the one my dad still cooks from today whenever he makes crepes - of course my parents kept the original version, scrawled on lined paper and with "flour" spelled as "flower." Completely priceless.]

Crepes

2 Tbsp. butter, melted
3 eggs
1 cup milk
1 cup flour
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. vanilla
1/4 cup orange juice

Beat eggs and milk; add butter. Add flour, sugar, and salt at once while mixing. (An electric mixer is easiest.) Add vanilla and orange juice. Pour a scant 1/4 cup of batter on hot pan and immediately rotate in a circular motion until the batter forms a thin crepe. Cook over medium heat until the edges start to turn slightly golden; flip and cook for 30 seconds more.