People have different ways of showing their love. Hugs, flowers, poetry, gifts, deeds, time...
Food.
My love language has always been food. I remember how I felt when I was younger and would bake with my grandma Viv. Raspberry pillows, cream puffs, divinity for the fair, brownies, cowboy cookies, her homemade marshmallow frosting... I remember making jello with my mom as a little girl, and watching the ice cubes melt as I stirred them up. I don't remember as many things as I'd like about my Grandma Betty, but I vividly remember her pink-frosted angel food cake that she made for special occasions. I remember 4th of July picnics, and playing in the sandbox, and Grandma's pink angel food cake. And I remember how they all made me feel.
Food.
I was telling someone recently how food had always been my "thing". When someone has a baby? Make them a meal. When I need to say "thank you" to the neighbors who clear the snow from our sidewalk? I write a note and bake some cookies. At Christmas time, I show my family I love them by making elaborate and ornate frosted sugar cookies (and dealing with the monster of a mess that it makes...) Food is one of my ways of showing others I care for them and about them. Always has been, probably always will be:
A family friend used to bake these amazing melt-in-your-mouth brownies when I was a kid. The softest cake, with marshmallows and nuts in a buttery chocolatey glaze on top... My dad swore by then. (And anyone who ever had the would remember them.) They may just be his favorite food in the whole world by the way he talks about them. When she passed, everyone assumed that the brownies were a thing of the past, since nobody had the forethought to get her recipe. I tried probably a dozen different recipes and tweaked things... and finally, figured it out. And when I made them for him for father's day a couple years back, her love came back and we were transported back in time to when she would bring those out to us on the farm in her big round white tupperware container, and we would all smile and know we were loved. Pauline and I spoke the same love language.
Diabetes.
One of the things that was hardest for me when Son Number One was diagnosed was that it felt like my love language for him had been forcefully turned off. He had this diagnosis, and I wanted to make it right by baking him some extra special cupcakes or brownies or fruit salad or cinnamon rolls... And obviously, that would not have improved the situation. At all. My brain realized this, and knew better, but it felt like I couldn't do what I usually do to lift spirits. And so when my kiddo said he hated diabetes, and how he just wished he could have some oreos (but he couldn't), it was like a gut punch to me.
And so I did what any normal mom would do in my place. I got on Amazon, ordered some things I never planned to need... almond flour, coconut flour, paleo baking mix, sugar free syrup... and hit the internet for options. I settled on a low carb peanut butter cookie. I made it lower carb by subbing sugar free syrup for honey. I crossed my fingers that they'd be a success. When they came out, and the kids deemed them to be "amazing!" and "bake-show worthy!", I felt a ridiculous amount of relief.... (even they were miles from my best baking...) Baking treats was still in play, just had to think things through more carefully. And the look on his face when he heard he could have TWO? Priceless. And so it shall be.
My love language will not be silenced.
No comments:
Post a Comment