You ever have childhood memories that come to mind when you do or hear or say something as an adult?
The other night, I was preparing a dessert for a family lunch and I had to use my hand mixer. After scraping the beaters with a spatula, I carried the beaters to the sink and licked off the remaining sweet goodness while I could. I can’t resist tasting the batter. That’s just good quality control, right? My kids now ask for a beater to “clean” after we mix something and I gladly oblige. Why? Because we are making memories.
I cannot tell you how many hours I spent in the kitchen with my mom, making a cake or pancakes or some other baked good that required the hand mixer. It was a lot. We didn’t eat out much. For many years, I got to lick both beaters. That was a positive trade off for helping cook and clean up the dishes. Then my little brother got old enough to notice and started wanting one for himself. My beater ratio dropped but not the cleaning responsibility. Oh well. That’s what happens when you have a sibling.
Sometimes (gasp!) the recipes contained eggs. I know! I was living dangerously, eating raw, egg-containing batter in my youth! And here I am, passing on that habit to the next generation. It’s just as nostalgic as drinking from the waterhose when playing outside.
But all jokes aside, when I’m in the kitchen and using my hand mixer, it takes me back to my mom’s kitchen and my childhood. With those memories come the feelings of being a kid again, knowing my mom was handling the adult stuff and I didn’t need to worry. That’s what I hope comes to mind for my kids when they are older.
I want them to have these childhood experiences that will could become a source of comfort when they reflect on their formative years. When life gets busy and potentially overwhelming for them as adults, I want them to remember times that were simpler and less busy. When their sole focus for a while was to help me make a box cake mix and lick the beaters.
My mom sent me a card a while back that said good moms let their kids lick the beaters; great moms turn them off first. How funny that the card made her think of me. 😀
Going Green In Texas 