Tall enough to see into the mixing bowl

I remember being too short to peek into the mixing bowl when I’d be sitting on the counter as a kid. I would stand on my tippy-toes to steal loose chocolate chips and brown sugar scattered on the counter. My mom would pick me up so I could grab a fingerful of cookie dough and she would hand the mixer down to me when the cookies were in the oven.

When I was little, I spent hours and hours looking up to her in the kitchen. I may be taller now, but I haven’t stopped looking up to her.

You might argue that you do, but I really do have the best mom of them all. She has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. My grandma always calls her “Polyanna” because she tends to see the good in everything and everyone.

When she would drop me off at school as a kid, the last thing I would hear before getting out of the car was always “Be the best you can be!” I would roll my eyes then, but little did I know this was the phrase I would repeat to myself so often in college. It’s definitely the advice we all need during this round of midterms.

She is one smart cookie (Get it? A baking pun!). I definitely get my nerdiness and love for learning from her. 

She gives the best hugs — they feel like a deep breath of the freshest air. They’re the kind of hugs that make you feel like someone is hugging you when you just think of them.

My mom is a wonderful baker. At every family gathering, we usually bring two or three options for dessert and there is rarely anything left for us to take home after. For Thanksgiving, she usually will make a few different pies and various cookies and bars.

Pies run in our family. My grandma is the pie master, and we are all convinced that she changes the recipe a little bit every time she gives it to you so that hers stay the best.

Last weekend, I made my first ever apple pie using my grandma’s recipe. As I was peeling the apples, memories of childhood fall days in my kitchen flooded into my mind. My mom, dad and I have somewhat of an assembly line when it comes to pie: I peel the apples, my dad cuts them and my mom takes it from there.

I felt an instant sense of nostalgia when I smelled the apples caramelizing in the oven. With fall break rapidly approaching, I have been making a bucket list of all the things I want to do while I’m home. Number one on the list is to fill my house with the smells of baked goodies and the sounds of new memories being made in the kitchen.

For all the “Gilmore Girls” fans out there, she’s the Lorelai to my Rory. Just like the TV mother-daughter duo, we have a shared coffee addiction. I’m daydreaming about all the morning, afternoon and 11 p.m. cups of coffee I’ll share with my mom during fall break.

This all goes to say: Mom, I love and miss you. I can’t wait to bake a pie with you next week.

You can contact Maggie at mklaers@nd.edu