On Friday afternoon, Diana's school had a Mother's Day party. We ate snacks together, and the kids presented us with these sweet little collages that they made. Instead of heading back into work after the party, I decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with my little one as my own Mother's Day gift to myself.
We went for a walk, we colored in a couple of her favorite coloring books, we played tag, we ate pizza together, and then, we got to do this:
My husband snapped this photo with his phone from the other room. That's Diana and me making muffins together. It was our first attempt at baking together, and my heart is still full because of it.
It might seem like a little thing to most people - why get so excited about muffins?? But for me, it felt like I was carrying on a family tradition.
My mom was an incredible baker and cook. She was MacGuyver in the kitchen - she could whip up pretty much anything from nothing, and it was always really good. She loved the act of creating something that would bring people happiness and comfort, something that would sustain and nurture. We had a giant cookie jar in our kitchen, and it was always full with something yummy. When she died, many of the condolence cards mentioned her skills in the kitchen.
One of my favorite memories of my mom was from a random day after middle school, when I came banging through the front door before my brother and sister got home, and she was singing along to Lionel Richie on the radio and setting out all the ingredients for us to make her trademark chocolate chip cookies. When she saw me come in, she didn't stop singing, she just grinned and motioned for me to join her. (I still get choked up with I hear "You Are"....)
Over the past 14 years since she died, when I've struggled with missing her or needed to feel connected, I have often resorted to stepping into the kitchen, pulling on an apron, and getting my hands busy making something from her baking repertoire.
On Friday, I was loving the time I got to spend with Diana, but found myself thinking about how much I wished my mom was still around to be a part of her life. Instead of wallowing in that or letting it ruin an otherwise really lovely afternoon, I decided to show Diana how her grandmother would have loved to be spending time with her.
So, I pulled out the ingredients to make muffins and all the bowls, spoons and muffin tins, I plopped Diana up on the counter, and held her hands as she put in the eggs, water and oil. I held the bowl as she sloppily stirred everything together. I found myself saying the same things to her that my mom used to say to me: "Make sure you get you get all the lumps out", "don't eat too much of that now or you'll feel sick", and "great job, sweetie, great job."
Diana loved it. As a matter of fact, she loved it so much that we made two batches! Then, when we were done, I wrapped them up, and we delivered them to our neighbors to say "Happy Mother's Day" to them because that's what my mother would have done.
Today, I am grateful for having had a mother that taught me about the love of baking and of caring for others with her example of a life of service and sharing, and for the fact that while she's not here anymore, her legacy can live on and on if I choose to share it with her granddaughter, Diana, and all of you.