I spent the morning prepping my kitchen and diving into a big cake project that I’m verrrrrry excited about. But I find that when I’m deep in a project I sort of shoo my kids out of the way and encourage (beg) them to do anything but follow me around the kitchen. Gunner was at school, so without proper distraction, Nella was relentless. After fielding about 78 requests to be included, I finally agreed to make a few cupcakes for them to decorate when G got home. That got her off my back for a few minutes.
Once my batter was made I scooped out six cupcakes, swirled a little food coloring in, and baked them off quickly while I filled my cake pans with the remaining batter. These six little cupcakes took almost nothing away from the cakes and only added about 3 minutes to my process. It was so little; this thing I did took almost no effort whatsoever. And yet those six little cupcakes meant the world to my kids. As I pulled them out of the oven Nella stood watching, whispering, “mom, dey yook amaaaaasing.”
I filled a couple piping bags with frosting I already had in the fridge, of course dyed to their favorite colors, and let them go to town at the kitchen table while I worked on my project. Sure, it was a little messy, but to hear them laughing and giggling together and finding so much joy in being creative in the kitchen was worth the tiny inconveniences it took to get us there.
The lesson I learned this morning has nothing to do with cupcakes or messy kitchens. The lesson I learned this morning is about including my children in the work of my soul. Baking is something that I actually feel called to do. My time in the kitchen is my sacred and precious time. And I find that too often I protect it so fiercely that I never allow my children to be a part it.
Each time I push them away, I justify it by saying, “I’m in a hurry. They’re too young. They’ll just complicate things. I don’t want to deal with the mess. They can help next time.” And to be honest, I think those are actually perfectly acceptable excuses. But today I said yes, and was surprised to find it required almost nothing extra of me, but it meant everything to them. I didn’t let them help with every step, and I didn’t let them hijack my entire cake, but I scooped out a little space for them in my process and I think that’s the lesson for me here.
My kids know that baking brings out something different in me. They know I sing when I bake, and they know I dance and shout when I take the first bite of a perfectly baked cookie, fresh out of the oven. They know that bringing treats to friends who are sad or sick or hurt is my favorite way to show love. The cookies and cupcakes and frosting have SO little to do with why they want to be a part of what’s happening in my kitchen. It's the feeling they get when they see me happy.
So friends, when your kids follow you around begging to help you cook or craft or work out or garden, or whatever it is that makes you come alive, find space for them in it. Don’t give up complete control and don’t allow it to suck the joy out of it for you. But every once in a while find a small and simple way to include them in the work of your soul and I really believe the rewards will be mighty.
I know my children will probably not remember this specific experience of decorating cupcakes at our kitchen table. But my hope is that they’ll remember the way it felt to be in the kitchen together over the years. I hope they’ll remember that I wanted them to be a part of the things that made me happy. I hope they’ll remember snippets of singing and dancing and sharing the first cookie off the tray. And most of all, I hope that as the grow up seeing me put time and energy into my dreams, they’ll find their way to their own. And who knows, maybe it will be cupcakes.
xx
SD
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