This week, an email popped up in my inbox that took me by surprise in ways I didn’t anticipate. It wasn’t bad news or anything to fret over—it was simply a message with the subject line “Bake Sale.” Over the past five years of navigating life with elementary-aged kids, I’ve received countless notices about bake sales, plant sales, and those “please donate your old stuff so we can sell it to unsuspecting kids” sales. Yet, I’ve never been the mom tasked with leading one until now.
Typically, I lean toward school projects that allow for creativity and a good deal of time spent at my desk, rather than those requiring meetings and coaxing fellow parents for Rice Krispie treats. I’ve always gravitated toward initiatives that resonate with my dual identity as both a mother and a children’s author. Programs like Parents as Reading Partners? Count me in!
This year feels different, though. This fifth-grade year—my eldest child’s final year at our cherished elementary school—marks a significant transition for both of us. It promises to be filled with homework, tests, and after-school activities, alongside spirit nights, a memorable fifth-grade trip, graduation, a party that would rival a wedding, and—let’s not forget—a hefty amount of fundraising to cover it all.
Which brings me back to that bake sale email, a seemingly mundane request for a parent more accustomed to such roles. But for me, it stirs up a complex mix of nostalgia and reflection on my own childhood and my single mother’s experience during those years.
At around seven or eight years old, I joined the cheerleading squad for our town’s pee-wee football team. Clad in our red skirts, white wool sweaters, and saddle shoes (yes, really), we were adorable. It was Pennsylvania in the early ’80s, a time when dedicated bake sale moms arrived with their foldable chairs and homemade goodies, ready to create a festive atmosphere. The late fall air would be filled with sweet scents that still make my mouth water as I reminisce.
However, I remember that for me, the chocolate-frosted yellow cupcakes were often more appealing than the cheering itself. My own mother, however, was not part of that brigade. She was busy—perhaps working, or managing errands and my brother’s activities. While she flitted between my cheer practices, soccer games, and school events with enthusiasm, her presence was rarely felt in formal PTA settings.
My mother was a unique kind of feminist: a political activist, a medical professional, and a critic of a system that often relied on educated women’s unpaid labor. This background has shaped the identity crisis I face when I find myself heading to PTA meetings, book fairs, or now, preparing for a bake sale. I can almost hear her asking me, “Don’t you have more important things to do? A book to write? A meal to prepare?” And yes, I do have plenty on my plate.
Many of my friends balance demanding careers while some devote their time to every classroom event, while others send grandparents or babysitters instead. Guilt and satisfaction exist in equal measure among them. Yet, when schools are in need, we all find ways to contribute, whether it’s by volunteering at events, sending a quick email, or slipping a few dollars into our kids’ pockets for popcorn Fridays. Some can give more, while others have less time and fewer resources. Most of us fall somewhere in between, scrambling for bake sale contributions or resorting to store-bought treats when we’re short on time or supplies.
This contemplation leads me to wonder about those cheer moms from my childhood. Did they have their own struggles? Were they juggling careers I wasn’t aware of? Perhaps they, too, experienced their own identity crises on the way to the games. Is that who I am now? Or did they genuinely embody the productive spirit they appeared to have, committed to bake sale success for the kids and the community?
And let’s not forget, what about the dads? Why do so few of them participate in these activities? That’s a conversation for another day.
Through this reflection, I’ve realized that I’m comfortable stepping into the role of Bake Sale Mom. I genuinely enjoy being present at my kids’ school. The familiar scents of pencil sharpeners, dry-erase boards, and cafeteria food have become comforting to me. This involvement is a privilege—having the flexibility in my work life to take on this role is fulfilling in ways I can’t fully articulate. The joy on my kids’ faces when they see me engaged at school events is priceless, and the funds we raise benefit our schools and community in meaningful ways. This grassroots organizing, while small-scale, relies on the dedication of women willing to volunteer their time.
So yes, this is who I am now. And you know what? I love to bake.
If you’re interested in exploring more about the intricacies of at-home insemination, check out this excellent resource on artificial insemination or consider visiting Make A Mom for reputable at-home insemination syringe kits. For a deeper understanding of the emotional and practical aspects of parenting, you might find this blog post engaging.
In summary, taking on the Bake Sale Mom role has opened my eyes to the importance of participation in our children’s education and community. Amid the hustle and bustle of life, it’s a reminder that each small effort contributes to a larger purpose.
Leave a Reply