Life as it goes...
Summer vacation and it has been one of those months when three generations were coexisting under one roof in my house – my mother, Shreya and I. We have been bonding and sharing space and enjoying every bit of it. Talk is a necessary byproduct of it and yes, we have been talking a lot.
Grandparents are amazing things. When they walk in, parenting looks easier. My mother can access the personality of Shreya that I can’t. And my father is Shreya's all time big comforter, right from her birth.
And it’s often not because of what they do; it is their mere presence that has its magical effect on the entire household especially on Shreya. They also silently seem to applaud you for everything that you do, even the small things.
In the true spirit of our family, vacationing, cooking and eating are what mostly brings us together.
Last week, Shreya and I got down with a few baking expeditions (it somehow seemed like better weather for baking) and we made muffins and baked a cake. Unlike me who never stepped foot in the kitchen (unless I was forced to when I moved away from home), Shreya has been at it since age four.
The thing about baking is that even the most seasoned baker often waits to see if the cake has risen. Even if you have the complete recipe, you are never sure you will get it right, much like parenting *wicked smile*. Shreya by now has understood that and stands in front of the oven asking me every microsecond, ‘Is it ready yet?” and we both glue our eyes on the oven waiting for it to rise. When we were done with the toothpick test, she licked it and declared, “wow, delicious!”
My mother watches this and sighs. “I am glad you are doing all these with Shreya. This is nothing but making memories.” I am glad she said it because else it would have never occurred to me. Simple things in life and so much to treasure.
I remember when my mother let me in on her cooking expeditions, there were too many boundaries. Everything has to be perfect and my mother’s watchful eye often made me nervous.
Everyone loves the perfect cake. But I have learnt that there is no such thing as a bad cake. That even the hard ones can be redeemed with ice cream or frosting. And still has the power to put a smile on your face.
With my mother's comment, it made me feel that my parents were too focused on my perfections that they never saw my broken bits. Sometimes I feel like asking my mother for my childhood back. At other times, I am grateful to her for letting me grow up as I am. I have significantly lowered the bar for Shreya, but in doing so, I have lowered the bar for myself too. I am allowed to have bad days and burnt cookies. I am allowed to bake cakes that don’t rise. Or make custard that doesn’t set.
Although I have not inherited my mom's passion for cooking, but the other day when I baked my first walnut muffin in 30 minutes, she asked me in amazement, "How did you do that?"
At that time, I knew we had made a fresh start.
Grandparents are amazing things. When they walk in, parenting looks easier. My mother can access the personality of Shreya that I can’t. And my father is Shreya's all time big comforter, right from her birth.
And it’s often not because of what they do; it is their mere presence that has its magical effect on the entire household especially on Shreya. They also silently seem to applaud you for everything that you do, even the small things.
In the true spirit of our family, vacationing, cooking and eating are what mostly brings us together.
Last week, Shreya and I got down with a few baking expeditions (it somehow seemed like better weather for baking) and we made muffins and baked a cake. Unlike me who never stepped foot in the kitchen (unless I was forced to when I moved away from home), Shreya has been at it since age four.
The thing about baking is that even the most seasoned baker often waits to see if the cake has risen. Even if you have the complete recipe, you are never sure you will get it right, much like parenting *wicked smile*. Shreya by now has understood that and stands in front of the oven asking me every microsecond, ‘Is it ready yet?” and we both glue our eyes on the oven waiting for it to rise. When we were done with the toothpick test, she licked it and declared, “wow, delicious!”
My mother watches this and sighs. “I am glad you are doing all these with Shreya. This is nothing but making memories.” I am glad she said it because else it would have never occurred to me. Simple things in life and so much to treasure.
I remember when my mother let me in on her cooking expeditions, there were too many boundaries. Everything has to be perfect and my mother’s watchful eye often made me nervous.
Everyone loves the perfect cake. But I have learnt that there is no such thing as a bad cake. That even the hard ones can be redeemed with ice cream or frosting. And still has the power to put a smile on your face.
With my mother's comment, it made me feel that my parents were too focused on my perfections that they never saw my broken bits. Sometimes I feel like asking my mother for my childhood back. At other times, I am grateful to her for letting me grow up as I am. I have significantly lowered the bar for Shreya, but in doing so, I have lowered the bar for myself too. I am allowed to have bad days and burnt cookies. I am allowed to bake cakes that don’t rise. Or make custard that doesn’t set.
Although I have not inherited my mom's passion for cooking, but the other day when I baked my first walnut muffin in 30 minutes, she asked me in amazement, "How did you do that?"
At that time, I knew we had made a fresh start.
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