Baker Mom Quotes

I still think of Oregon Trail as a great leveler. If, for example, you were a twelve-year-old girl from Westchester with frizzy hair, a bite plate, and no control over your own life, suddenly you could drown whomever you pleased. Say you have shot four bison, eleven rabbits, and Bambi's mom. Say your wagon weighs 9,783 pounds and this arduous journey has been most arduous. The banker's sick. The carpenter's sick. The butcher, the baker, the algebra-maker. Your fellow pioneers are hanging on by a spool of flax. Your whole life is in flux and all you have is this moment. Are you sure you want to forge the river? Yes. Yes, you are.

My mom used to say, before, I met your father, that it's not about meeting the right guy - there are hundreds, thousands, of right guys in the world- it's figuring out the right one for you.

We had guilt of every flavor: We had working-mom guilt, childless guilt, guilt because we’d turned down a social obligation, guilt because we’d accepted an invitation we knew we didn’t have time for, guilt for turning away work and for not turning it down when we felt we were already being taken advantage of. We had guilt for asking for more and for not asking for enough, guilt for working from home, guilt for eating a bagel, Catholic guilt and Presbyterian guilt and Jewish guilt, none of which tasted quite the same. We felt guilty if we weren’t feeling guilty enough, so much so that we began to take pride in this ability to function under moral conflict.

Remember: eye contact," he says. "And be sure to smile." "You are such a mom." "You know what your problem is?" "That my boyfriend is acting like a mom?

You can call for the cook, call for the baker, you may as well call for the undertaker.

1. Motherhood is hard 2. Motherhood is glorious 3. Motherhood is hard

to understand him, the temper and the challenge, the brokenness and the stubbornness,

A mother continues to labor long after the baby is born.

Grace and chocolate cake can cover a world of awkwardness.

We hated the gym. We loved it. We escaped to it. We avoided it. We had complicated relationships with our bodies, while at the same time insisting that we loved them unconditionally. We were sure we had better, more important things to do than worry about them, but the slender yoga bodies of moms in Lululemon at school pickup taunted us. Their figures hinted at wheatgrass shots, tennis clubs, and vagina steaming treatments. We found them aspirational. So we sweated on the elliptical and lifted ten-pound weights, inching closer to the bodies we told ourselves we were too evolved to want.

I took my bike instead of the car so I wouldn’t wake Mom. I remember it started to rain and then I saw headlights coming when I turned the corner. I tried to get out of the way, but it all just happened so fast I couldn’t stop.

He looks me right in the eyes, and those brown ones of his are full of comfort. Not sympathy or regret, or even hesitation. His eyes make me think of home. I feel at home with him. I’ve never felt that before, not even when my mom was still alive. She loved me, but never made me feel the warmth and comfort of a real home, but Officer Dan can. “Mattie.

Alexis and I got dressed in changing rooms next to each other and were chatting through the openings at the top of the dividers. “Wait till you see my new suit!” she said. “It’s so cute!” “Me too! My mom brought it home as a surprise!” We came out and took one look at each other and started laughing our heads off. We had on the exact same bathing suit! They were tankinis, navy blue with white piping and a cool yellow lightning bolt down either side. Alexis is kind of muscular from soccer, and I’m kind of thin (I play the flute, and that doesn’t exactly build muscles!) so the suit fit us way differently. We couldn’t stop giggling though. We looked like total dork twins! I knew right then this summer was going to be silly, superfun, and totally awesome.

When I fell, I instantly had my "Oh, That's Why" realization and I would have known not to rollerskate through the house again, even if I had been alone. There is a loss of dignity that a child experiences when they've just suffered the consequences of something they were warned against by the Wiser One while the Wiser One gloats for being wiser, especially when the gloating is packaged as anger. But I was too young to examine gloating or anger or wisdom and she, the mother of a timid child who rarely got hurt, had not had many opportunities to consider the vulnerable state of an injured kid. We were both green and hurt and scared in this new way, together. As an adult, it helps me to view my mom as a singular woman beyond her role in my life, but also, as a child herself who does not, in fact, possess knowledge of all things. Our mother-daughter relationship was this huge, life-altering thing that we are both experiencing for the first time, at the same rate and we don't have answers, we only have things that we're trying out. This was true for my grandmother too; she was learning to be alive for the first time.

since the accident. I don’t know what her problem was. After all, I was a “hero.” At least the newspaper said so. “Hey, Alex,” she said, twirling her ponytail with her pencil. “Oh, hi,” I stammered, looking down at my burger. “You guys sounded really great in the talent show. I didn’t know you could sing like that.” “Uhh, thanks. It must be all the practice I get with my karaoke machine.” Oh God, did I just tell her I sing karaoke? Definitely not playing it cool, I thought to myself. TJ butted in, “Yeah, Small Fry was ok, but I really carried the show with my awesome guitar solo.” He smiled proudly. “Shut up, TJ,” I said, tossing a fry at him, which hit him between the eyes. “Hey, watch it, Baker. Just because you’re a ‘hero’ doesn’t mean I won’t pummel you.” “Yeah, right,” I said, smiling. Emily laughed. “Maybe we could come over during Christmas break and check out your karaoke machine. Right, Danielle?” Danielle rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, whatever.” I gulped. “Uhhh…yeah…that sounds great.” “Ok, give me your hand,” she said. “My hand,” I asked, surprised. “Yep,” she said, grabbing my wrist and opening my palm. “Here’s my number,” she said, writing the numbers 585-2281 in gold glitter pen on my palm.” I will never wash my hand again, I thought to myself. “Text me over break, ok?” she said, smiling brightly. “Yeah, sure,” I nodded, as she walked away giggling with Danielle. “Merry Christmas to me!” I whispered to TJ and Simon. “Yeah, there’s just one problem, Dufus,” TJ said. “Oh yeah, what’s that, TJ? That she didn’t give you her number?” I asked. “No, Dork. How are you going to text her if you don’t have a cell phone?” He smiled. “Oh, right,” I said, slumping down in my seat. “That could be a problem.” “You could just call her on your home phone,” Simon suggested, wiping his nose with a napkin. “Yeah, sure,” TJ chuckled. “Hi Emily, this is Alex Baker calling from the year 1984.” He held his pencil to his ear like a phone.  “Would you like to come over to play Atari? Then maybe we can solve my Rubik’s Cube while we break dance ….and listen to New Kids on the Block.” He was cracking himself up and turning bright red. “Maybe I’ll type you a love letter on my typewriter. It’s so much cooler than texting.” “Shut up, TJ,” I said, smiling. “I’m starting to remember why I didn’t like you much at the beginning of the year.” “Lighten up, Baker. I’m just bustin’ your chops. Christmas is coming. Maybe Santa will feel sorry for your dorky butt and bring you a cell phone.” Chapter 2 ePhone Denied When I got home from school that day, it was the perfect time to launch my cell phone campaign. Mom was in full Christmas mode. The house smelled like gingerbread. She had put up the tree and there were boxes of ornaments and decorations on the floor. I stepped over a wreath and walked into the kitchen. She was baking sugar cookies and dancing around the kitchen to Jingle Bell Rock with my little brother Dylan. My mom twirled Dylan around and smiled. She was wearing the Grinch apron that we had given her last Christmas. Dylan was wearing a Santa hat, a fake beard, and of course- his Batman cape. Batman Claus. “Hey Honey. How was school?” she asked, giving Dylan one more spin. “It was pretty good. We won second place in the talent show.” I held up the candy cane shaped award that Ms. Riley had given us. “Great job! You and TJ deserved it. You practiced hard and it payed off.” “Yeah, I guess so,” I said, grabbing a snicker-doodle off the counter. “And now it’s Christmas break! I bet your excited.” She took a tray of cookies out of the oven and placed

Mom says to tell you that bakers make the best lovers.

Thomasplitzchen Buns Mom always said these could make your enemies your friends or your friends your enemies. I put on five pounds every St. Thomas Day because of them, so I’d say they’re my friendly enemies. Too good to eat just one. 2 cups all-purpose flour ½ teaspoon salt ½ cup butter ½ cup sugar or brown sugar 2 teaspoons baking powder ½ cup milk Filling 3 teaspoons melted butter 1 cup currants, raisins, cranberries, or whatever small, dried fruit you have on hand ¼ cup sugar Icing 3 tablespoons melted butter Few drops vanilla extract 2 cups powdered sugar Mix up all the ingredients for the buns. Get a rolling pin and press out the dough to one-eighth-inch thick on a floured board. Mix together the filling: butter, dried fruit, and sugar. Spread it on the dough. Roll it up like a fat sausage, and make one-inch slices. Put them pinwheel side up on a greased cookie sheet and bake off in a pre-heated 350°F oven until barely suntanned on top. For me, that’s about 12 minutes on a hot day and 15 on a cold one. To make the icing, mix together butter, vanilla extract, and powdered sugar. When the buns are out of the oven, give them a good sugar smothering and let cool.

Brötchen There’s nothing more German than this recipe. A staple for all true Schmidt bakers. These are best hot out of the oven with butter or cherry jam. That’s the way Mom did it. Here, I’ll give you Oma’s cherry jam recipe too. 2½ to 3 cups all-purpose flour 1 packet active dry yeast (rapid) 1 teaspoon sugar 1 cup warm water 1 tablespoon oil 1 teaspoon salt 1 egg white Put 2½ cups flour into a large bowl and make a well in the middle. Pour yeast, sugar, and two tablespoons of warm water (the water comes from the 1 cup) into the well. Mix yeast, sugar, and water in the well, but don’t mix in the flour yet. Cover the bowl with a cloth and set it in a warm place for 15 minutes until it proofs. Add the rest of the water and oil, and beat in the salt and flour good. Turn out the dough on a floured wooden board, and knead. Add the remaining ½ cup flour as needed to make it smooth. Put dough in a greased bowl, cover, and let it rise until it doubles in size. About an hour in that same warm spot. Punch down, then split it into 12 pieces. Shape into rolls and place 3 inches apart on a greased and floured baking tray. Cover and let rise one more time until they double again. Cut a cross on top of each. Beat egg white and 1 teaspoon water with a fork until frothy and brush the rolls. (Oh, I forgot—should have preheated the oven to 450°F already.) Then you bake for 15 to 20 minutes until the tops are golden.

I remember watching SpongeBob and laughing as he and Patrick irritated Squidward. Mom

So here’s the dealio; I was trying to think of what I could get for your birthday that would mean something, not just the usual Barbie crap. And I was thinking—you and me are Indian. Your mom’s not, but we are. And I’ve always liked Indian symbols. Know what a symbol is?” She shook her head. “Shit that stands for shit. So let’s see if I remember this right.” Sitting on the bed, he plucked the bird card out of her hand, turning it around in his fingers. “Okay, this guy is magic. He’ll protect you from bad spells and other kinds of weirdness you might not even be aware of.” Carefully he unwound the wire ties that attached the small charm to its plastic card and placed the bird on her bedside table. Then he picked up the teddy bear. “This fierce animal is a protector.” She laughed. “No, really. It may not look like it, but appearances can be deceiving. This dude is a fearless spirit. And with that fearless spirit, he signals bravery to those who require it.” He freed the bear from the card and set it on the table next to the bird. “All right. Now the fish. This one might be the best of all. It gives you the power to resist other people’s magic. How cool is that?” She thought

Some mornings she looked at the news and wondered if she recognized her country anymore. When the citizenry wasn’t gripped by fear, it always seemed angry. Angry at the president, at politicians, at Muslims, gays, transsexuals, gun owners, evangelical Christians, Catholics, celebrities, radio talk show hosts, single moms, drug users, college students who were allegedly “snowflakes,” small town bakers, football players, insurance companies, pharmaceutical companies, government bureaucrats, cops, young African-American men, illegal immigrants, legal immigrants, atheists … Oh, she thought, looking at the tiny six-pointed star on her bracelet, and of course, Jews. They always seemed to be the universal scapegoat of every extremist on both sides of the ideological spectrum.

Diane dropped her head back and sighed at the ceiling before giving me that exasperated big-sister tone. “We’re sisters. Always and forever. That means I love you even when I hate you. And it means I can hate you because I know you’ll always be there when I’m done hating you.” I worked my throat, but words wouldn’t come. “Okay, yeah. Maybe I didn’t think that before. But I don’t want to end up like Miriam and Debbie Fine. Old ladies who’ve lost the best gift life has to offer. Mom and Glenda are gone. But there’s you and me and Louise and Susan. And even Robert, Michael, Douglas, and Jeremy. And that’s a whole lot of love and hate right there.” She wavered in front of me, tears clouding my vision. Still, I couldn’t move or speak. “And Dad. It’s going to take the mighty power of the Fox clan to pull him back from this.” I nodded, the well inside me filling with a slow trickle. She took one step toward me. “Yesterday I hated you. Today I love you. And I know you’ll forgive me because out of all of us, you’re the one who never forgets: Family is the most important thing.

do. Has he ever stopped to wonder why being a mom actually is the hardest job in the world and not just something thoughtless people say? It’s because there’s never a day off—not just a day, but an hour, not so much as a minute. Is she sick? Is she feeling under the weather? Too bad! There’s no one to cover

In another life, we might have spent this evening nestled in a corner table at some café, drinking good Bordeaux, listening to Chet Baker, discussing hypothetical trips to the Greek islands or the construction of a backyard greenhouse where we would consider the merits of growing a lemon (or avocado?) tree in a pot and sit under a bougainvillea vine like the one my mom planted the year I turned eleven, before my dad left. Jazz. Santorini. Lemon trees. Beautiful, loving details, none of which matter anymore. Not in this life, anyhow. That chapter has ended. No, the book has.

Seriously, I feel like we're filming one of those old soap operas my mom loved,” Wesley moans. “What possible reason could there be for you to take your shirt off? And can we talk about why you aren't wearing a coat? It's winter, for heaven's sake.

There’s eternity —where are you going to spend it? And don’t you want to start living eternal life right now? Because you can —you don’t have to die physically to be born again. We can belong to the Kingdom of Heaven right now —and it can make a difference.

Mom won’t like Megan.” “That’s a bonus,” Alan said. “I love it when Mom has to pretend she likes someone she doesn’t. Remember when I was dating that dancer, and I told Mom she was a stripper? Priceless. You can’t buy entertainment like that." Drew pulled out his phone and spoke the words of his text message as he composed it. “Having a good Saturday? I’m helping my brother get ready for tonight’s seven-course gala dinner. Don’t worry, you can still wear your Beijing T-shirt. If things get too stuffy, you can liven things up by throwing a drink in someone’s face.” “She’d better not throw a drink in anyone’s face,” Alan said. “We’re serving red wine, and I have a new carpet in the dining room.” “It’s just one of our little in-jokes,” Drew said. “Based on what?” “She threw some water in my face once.” “Were you outside having a water balloon fight with a bunch of children?” “No.” “Were you washing cars for a fundraiser?” “No.” “Then I have to ask, big brother. Where were you, and what were you doing when this Megan girl threw a drink in your face?” “We were talking, in a pub.” Alan grinned. “I will pay for your entire wedding if you propose to her in front of Mom.

Alan Morgan, stared in disbelief at the centerpiece. “It’s perfect,” he said. “I need to stop thinking about apps that are going to change the world. Obviously the technology of the future is whatever frequency you and Megan are on.” “I’m not sure we’re on the same frequency,” Drew said. “This note doesn’t sound like her. ‘Sorry I can’t make it to your dinner. Something came up. Talk soon, Megan.’ That’s not her at all. Do you think she’s been kidnapped?” “Yes. This is exactly what kidnappers do.” “Don’t be sarcastic.” “No, really. I’m sure the ransom note will be along any minute.” Drew crossed his arms and started sulking. “Don’t sulk,” Alan said. “That’s my job. I’m the old man who’s turning thirty. Poor me.” “Poor me,” Drew said. “If she sent this note, it’s not a good sign.” “Since when does a polite apology spell trouble?” “When it comes from a girl who doesn’t do polite apologies.” “Maybe she’s changed. People change,” Alan said. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” “No,” Alan said. “She’s probably going to dump you.” Drew didn’t want to admit it, but he’d been thinking the same thing ever since she’d gone silent on the phone. “You’ve still got me,” Alan said. “I’m going to be single forever,” Drew said. “We’re both going to be single forever,” Alan said. “Just the two of us, living in this big house we bought with our blood money.” “You have to stop saying that, or people will think we’re running a crime syndicate.” Alan went over to the fridge and opened it. “You get the crackers, and I’ll liberate one of the cheese plates,” Alan said. “Why?” “Because it’s too early to open the wine, and we need something to ease our sorrows. Me, turning thirty, and you over getting dumped by a girl before we even had a chance to terrorize Mom.” “I’m not sure it’s too early to open the wine,” Drew said. “What about letting it breathe?” “Is that a real thing?” Alan put the marble cheese board on the polished granite counter between then and flung back the clear plastic wrap. “I thought that was just something Mom said to excuse her afternoon drinking.

The other major oil industry suppliers were similarly weary, trying to shore up earnings by slashing jobs, trimming project costs, and squeezing their own customers and suppliers wherever they could. (The wildcatters had it worse: many of the mom-and-pop operators of the American oil patch started to file for bankruptcy.) One year later, GE would merge its oil and gas unit into the oil-field giant Baker Hughes, keeping for itself a more than 50 percent stake in the company and spinning out a new public company to be run by Simonelli, under GE’s control. The transaction eased GE’s exposure to the ongoing oil rout and gave the new company, dubbed “Baker Hughes, a GE company,” vast new areas of redundant employees and operations to eliminate. With Baker Hughes, GE changed its tone a bit. The deal was transformational, but in which intended direction wasn’t made clear. GE execs like Bornstein would proclaim that the deal gave them “optionality,” but the reality was that investors were left in the dark on the strategy: Was GE doubling down on oil? Or was it preparing to exit the industry? The idea of holding such a long-term option was nice, but the game pieces in the positioning were people, and those who didn’t leave their job had no idea where the future of the company might be. The new arrangement didn’t spare Lufkin. The historic foundry was closed. The city’s annual financial report now just shows a blank line when listing the company’s employment tally, evidence of the more than four thousand jobs that evaporated after GE came to town. Between two Mondays—the day GE announced it was coming to Lufkin and the day the company said it would move on, leaving a shuttered foundry at the center of town—just 868 days had passed.

If witness protection really wants to know the quickest way to make a woman disappear, just make her a mom.

You want to marry my mom, right?” He collapsed onto the rocking couch, sending it squeaking back and forth. “Yes. I want to be part of your family in whatever way you will let me, because I think you’re pretty cool. Slightly wicked with what you just did there, but also cool and stubborn and an incredible baker, and I’d be honored if you’d let me into your inner circle.

He trails off, and I don’t need him to finish the sentence, because I know what he’s not saying, what he won’t say. His job is dangerous and also the most important thing in his life. A relationship would complicate that. Something I have always known but let myself ignore. But that doesn’t stop the way my chest constricts excruciatingly at his words, making my breath stutter in my throat. He leans his cheek against the top of my head and it sends shards of agony ricocheting through me, but I’m frozen, unable to move. He takes a deep breath in and then breathes miserably, “And I needed this reminder of why I don’t get involved with single moms.” As my chest cracks open wide, I realize far, far too late, that my silly, naïve heart had already decided on wanting more. I’m not brave… and I was a fool for thinking I could be.

She sees herself as a hot mess on good days, and lord knows she’s doing the best she can with the shitty life hand she’s been dealt in the last year… but you’d be damn lucky to have someone like Teddy give you any of her time or attention. Just because she’s a single mom doesn’t make her any less⁠—” “I know that,” I murmur quietly, beseechingly, ending her heated tirade. “And I swear I didn’t mean it like that.

Though I knew it was all in good fun, I felt extraordinarily protective—and concerningly possessive—over the single mom and admittedly, that feeling hasn’t diminished at all in the months since.

Okay, Champ, I’m going to help your mom. You can be brave for her, right?” I ask, and he nods. Penny is crying, so I scoop her up into my arms and stride down the hallway, following Dalton. I set her down at the bedroom door that he stops at and hunker down to ask her, “Where’s your teddy bear? Can you get it and hold onto it for me?” She sniffles and nods, taking hold of Dalton’s hand tightly. I stand and offer him my fist, which he fist bumps. “You got this, Champ.

No, it’s okay. They’re normal, and not anything to be concerned about. I had them for two months before I went into labor with this one,” I chuckle, draping my arm over Dalton’s shoulders. “Mom,” Dalton groans, shrugging out from under my arm. “You’re embarrassing me.” Xander laughs, and the sound does something to me. It’s low and deep and soothing. I miss the sound of a man’s laugh. “Hey, Champ,” he says, holding out his fist to my son. Dalton bumps his knuckles to Xander’s and grins. “What do you say we grab the rest of these bags for your mom?

So just one small glass,” he whispers and winks. “Gotta keep my little one fed, too.” “Xander…” “You keep saying my name like it’s going to change the outcome of this evening,” he laughs, dropping a kiss to my lips. Penny snickers behind her hand. He twists his head to look at her. “What’s so funny?” “You kissed Mommy,” she giggles behind her hand. “I did,” he says, nodding. Looking at her and then over to Dalton, he asks gently, “Is that okay with you guys?” Dalton shrugs his shoulders from where he’s still leaning on the counter, watching us. “Yeah, I think so. You make Mom smile, so it makes me happy.

That’s not what this is,” I mutter, raising the beer to my lips. My tone is harsher than I intend when I continue, muttering darkly, “She’s a widowed mom of three; she’s out here doing everything by herself, the least I can do is make sure your terror of a niece doesn’t end up as roadkill or fish food because she has no sense of self-preservation yet. Besides, you all know; I don’t date single moms.” I instantly regret the harshness of my words when Violette’s eyes lose some of that sparkle, and that smile disappears.

Good night, Xander. Thanks for showing me that trick with the bat.” “Of course. You’ll be killing it next year if you keep practicing. We’ll try and catch a spring game next season when Detroit comes out to play Seattle,” he says, tucking his hands into his front pockets. Dammit, my heart… Dalton’s brown eyes go wide and they bounce between Xander’s and mine. “Seriously? That would be wicked!” Xander grins, shrugging. “As long as it’s okay with your mom, sure. Maybe your uncle can come with us.” Dalton does a jump and punches his fist into the air in excitement. “Yeah, Uncle Cal! Come with us!

Okay, so I’m still waiting for this explanation,” Scottie grumbles, pulling herself up to sit cross legged on top of my counter. “I’m a single mom.” “You are?!” she exclaims, feigning shock. I roll my eyes at her and she laughs. Pointing out the window, she mutters, “Doesn’t seem to be an issue anymore. Next.” “I’m a widow. It hasn’t even been a year since my husband died,” I say, taking another gulp of my wine. Liquid courage. “There’s no timeline on grief or how you choose to live your life,” Scottie counters. “And if anyone has a problem with that, send them my way.