So when I went to the Nutcracker over the holidays, a fairly new girl’s night tradition initialed a couple years ago, I did so with a purse full of cookies.
I had been in the midst of my baking craze in the effort to mail cookies to friends near and far, and per usual made WAY TOO MANY. So I quickly made up a zip-lock baggie for each theater-goer, filled with a variety of cookies. And since I had extra candy canes, I threw one of those in for good measure as well.
I then carefully placed eight bags of cookies into my purse. That’s right… snack packs for all.
As I left my house to head to the theater, the ridiculousness hit me.
I quite literally had a purse full of cookies.
Who does that?
(Okay, Mary Poppins probably did and she is amazing, so there is that.)
When I went up skiing last week, I brought tupperware full of homemade gingerbread to share. Especially knowing there were going to be close to a dozen people, a bunch of which were guys, and guys are always hungry, right?
(My internal mom dialog: We don’t want them wasting away, now do we?)
I had asked what I could contribute to the cause, and was told that they were more than good on food and beverages. But you can’t show up to a house empty-handed, I say. Just doesn’t feel right to not bring something.
And who doesn’t enjoy homemade cookies?
But when did I become the lady who always has snacks?
When did I become everyone’s mom?
I actually have been called mom by friends before.
I always took it lovingly, done in the context of me doing something nice and helpful and thoughtful. It always happened when I was taking care of them to a certain degree. Okay, honestly most the times I was called mom was by intoxicated friends, but still, I think a loving sentiment was inherent.
It’s funny because I don’t think of myself as overwhelmingly nurturing. Especially if you were to ask my plants, they would say I am a TERRIBLE mother. While I like the idea of kids someday in the future, I am not the one to instantly gravitate to packs of children and want to mother them. I am not that girl. Most kids are loud and strange and smell weird.
I always say, I like specific children, not general ones. (I feel the same way about dogs.)
So it’s not like I am channeling some evolutionary need to procreate through making my friends into surrogate children.
Maybe it’s as simple as liking to give people tasty food, which makes them happy.
I like making people happy.
Call it mothering, call it a display of love, or call it crazy, I don’t know. But I think I am more and more becoming that person. The person with a purse full of homemade cookies.
I feel the need….the need to feed my friends and loved ones.
And I am not going to fight it.
Hope you all are hungry!
**There was one time I had a purse full of beer and cheese. But that’s a whole ‘nother story.**