On Wednesdays, We Bake

Wednesdays are my favorite day. Even though it is hump day and clearly a detriment for that reason alone, I look forward to Wednesday every single week. Why? Because on Wednesdays, we bake.

As her high school career winds down, my daughter is taking a baking class at our local community college. Last year, we attended an event on the campus to get a feel for the various programs that were offered, and Kylie fell in love with the kitchen and the chefs who taught in it. The campus has won awards for their program, and my kiddo was really excited to try culinary.

Because COVID has ruined everything, the actual baking now has to be done at home as opposed to the kitchen on campus. The students attend one class each Wednesday morning where they observe a demonstration, and then they bring all of their supplies home to try it out for themselves. This means that the twins and I have the terrible misfortune of being taste testers every week. It’s truly a hard life. So far, Kylie has baked chocolate chip scones, blueberry muffins, and three different kinds of cookies (peanut butter, chocolate chip, and checkerboard). She baked chocolate brownies, coconut macaroons and Nutella macarons. (Side note: Did you know that there is a difference between macaroons and macarons? I honestly thought that someone just couldn’t spell.) Last week, she baked French baguettes and gigantic pretzels. This week, it was pita bread and a focaccia that could give Panera a run for its money. Carbs are not my friend right now.

As happy as I am to get to try all of these yummy things each week, my favorite part about Wednesdays is that my girl is upstairs in the kitchen for the majority of the afternoon. When I am home, it is the most time that we spend together all week. As expected, once she became a teenager, she began spending all of her free time in her room. Shortly after buying our house, we converted the better half of the basement into an epic bedroom space for her, so now she really doesn’t want to come upstairs and hang out with me. Occasionally, she emerges from underground to forage for food in the kitchen, but it is rare that we get to spend a lot of time together. As weird as it sounds, I miss her, even though we literally live in the same house.

Parenthood comes in cycles. When your kids are really little and completely dependent on you, it makes you want to lose your mind to a degree. Parenting is a tiring and often thankless job. Kylie and I were pretty much on our own from the time she was four years old. The sudden split of our family was really hard on her, and the tug of war that existed between her dad and I kept her in limbo for years. Having me as a mother could not have been easy, and we were at each other’s throats for most of her middle school years. I am amazed that we did not strangle one another while she was a freshman or sophomore in high school. There were times during those years that I was so done with all aspects of parenting; I wanted nothing more to do with being anyone’s mom. And then, one day, just like that, we were past the worst of it. Suddenly, my daughter became this person who I could see through a different lens. When I looked at her, I caught glimpses of the little girl who could blow bubbles for hours in the backyard when she was five, but I also saw her as a young woman with her own big dreams and plans.

I catch myself remembering that in less than three months, my baby girl will graduate high school. I designed her senior ad for the yearbook last week and spent the entire day unsuccessfully fighting back tears as I dug through almost eighteen years of photos, trying to choose my favorites. I remember being her age, feeling as though I was going to absolutely climb out of my skin because I could not wait to be on my own. I try to be patient with her because I know that I am the annoying mom that she sometimes wants to escape. I now know how it felt to be my parents, and it’s rough. The kindergartener who once needed me to tie her shoes every single morning is getting ready to go to college and begin her life without me, and I don’t know if I am ready.

So now, once a week, I prop myself at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee and my laptop and watch Kylie toss carefully measured flour and softened butter into the Kitchen Aid. We crank the music up and she rolls her eyes when I dance around, and I know she’s secretly jealous of my stellar moves. I always ask her how long the treats will take in the oven because I don’t want them to bake too quickly. I want to slow the clock down and enjoy as much of the day as I can before the afternoon is over because we don’t get many days like this one.

And that, my friends, is why I love Wednesdays.