Your cart is currently empty!
Are You the Bake Sale Mom?
I received an email in my inbox this week that caught me off guard in ways I didn’t anticipate. It wasn’t bad news or even mediocre news—there was no news at all, really. The subject line simply read “Bake Sale.” Over the past five years, while raising my elementary school-aged kids, I’ve seen endless notifications about bake sales, plant sales, and the infamous “give us your old stuff so we can sell it to unsuspecting kindergartners” sales. Yet, I had never taken the lead on any of these events before.
I usually gravitate toward school projects that require creativity and time spent at my own desk, rather than those that involve meetings and the inevitable pleading with other moms to bring in Rice Krispie treats. The tasks I volunteer for align with my roles as a mother and a writer. Parents as Reading Partners? Absolutely!
However, this year feels different. My eldest child’s fifth-grade year—her final one at our cherished elementary school—marks a significant transition for both of us. It will be filled with homework, tests, and after-school activities, but also spirit nights, a big fifth-grade trip, graduation, and a fifth-grade party that could rival a wedding, plus, of course, plenty of fundraising to cover it all.
This brings me back to the bake sale email, which might seem trivial to a more organized individual comfortable with such responsibilities. For me, it prompted a deep reflection on my own childhood and my mother—a single mom—and the bittersweet nostalgia from my days cheering for Little League.
At around 7 or 8 years old, I joined the cheerleading squad for my town’s pee-wee football team. In our adorable red skirts, white wool sweaters, and saddle shoes, we were quite the sight. This was Pennsylvania in the early ’80s, where bake sale moms arrived in droves, equipped with foldable chairs and blankets, unwrapping their foil-covered treats that filled the crisp autumn air with sweetness. I can still remember how those yellow cupcakes with chocolate frosting and sprinkles distracted me from the actual cheering.
But my mom was never part of that brigade. She was often at work, or maybe she had errands to run or my brother to drive around to his activities. I can’t recall the specifics, but she was busy—enthusiastically flitting in and out of my cheer practices and later, soccer games, but never involved in official PTA business.
My mother was a specific type of feminist: a political activist and a medical professional who critiqued a system that depended on educated women volunteering their time for free. This creates a personal dilemma when I tell her about my PTA meetings, book fairs, and now, bake sales. I can almost hear her voice asking, “Don’t you have better things to do? Like finishing that book or preparing a well-balanced meal for your remarkable children?”
And yes, I have plenty to do. So do many parents. Some juggle demanding careers, while others make it to every classroom event or send relatives in their stead. Some feel guilty, while others find satisfaction in their choices.
The reality is, as schools increasingly require our time and effort, we all need to participate in ways that fit our lives—whether that means working a table, sending an email, or slipping a couple of dollars into our kids’ pockets for popcorn Fridays. Some can and should contribute more; the system is designed this way for a reason. People have different resources—some have time, others have money, and most of us are somewhere in between, rushing to gather bake sale donations or sending in store-bought cookies after a long week.
This reflection makes me wonder about those cheer moms and their foil-wrapped goodies from my past. Perhaps they worked early shifts at jobs I was unaware of, or maybe they too faced an identity crisis on their way to the game. Or maybe they were exactly as they seemed: a group of dedicated women rallying for bake sale success on behalf of the kids and the community.
As I ponder all this, I realize I’m okay being the designated Bake Sale Mom. I enjoy being present at my kids’ school, surrounded by the familiar scents of sharpened pencils and cafeteria meals. It’s a privilege to have a flexible work life and the time to embrace this role. It brings joy to see my children’s smiles when they spot me at school events, and the funds we raise genuinely contribute to our schools and community. This grassroots organizing—though small—relies heavily on women willing to volunteer.
So, is this who I am now? Yes, among many things, it is. And I also have a passion for baking.
For more insights into home insemination, check out this informative piece at this link. If you’re looking for a reliable resource on pregnancy, visit MedlinePlus for excellent information. Additionally, check out Make a Mom for authoritative advice on home insemination kits.
Summary
The author reflects on the role of the “Bake Sale Mom” in the context of her own childhood memories and her mother’s influence. She navigates the complexities of parenting, societal expectations, and individual choices regarding involvement in school activities, ultimately embracing her new role while acknowledging the privilege it entails.