The Donut that Failed Miserably
Reading time: 4 minutesA genuinely bittersweet story
Time changed, but the cold darkness remained the same. While the sun rises less this time of year, there’s nothing like the horizon of a sweet moment. Baker’s Wife picked up the call just after 6:00 a.m.
We made plans. It was winter break and generosity was overflowing. Sixty cake donuts packaged ever so sweetly to unsuspecting indulgers.
At pick up, we ordered side donuts just for us. Kaiden chose the state fair donut. A sugar tsunami with cinnamon made into a classic round of goodness. The only thing empty was the middle. No blueberry ones, so I went with maple. A second maple for my mom.
Image powered by Unsplash | @patrickian4
In the car, we jammed out to some favorite songs on repeat. “Step Into Your Power” by Ray LaMontagne was one of them.
All you need
You already own
It was given to you
On the day that you were born
“I was born to come through your stomach,” Kaiden said smugly. I nodded and bobbed along.
I like listening to music with subtle reminders of power and possibility. I like the way my son listens, repeats, and finds his own meaning.
Nothing in this moment signaled what was about to happen next.
Drop off was short and sweet
I took our side donuts home. As I reached to grabbed my delight, suddenly, my world shifted. Never in my life had I seen such a tragedy. Perplexed. Shaken and shocked. I questioned the seven years of mothering and my capacity to continue. I succumbed with absolute confusion and wonder.
Why did this kid only eat half of his donut?
He’s never left a donut unfinished. Bakery visits are rare and with limits. One donut. One moment. On occasion. That’s it.
The children, current and aged that I’ve met know good and well the inconceivable goodness a donut offers. Whether classic, vegan, gluten free, if it’s made for you, that donut unquestionably does its job.
The soft squishy, melt in your mouth, smooth baked dough, warms bellies and sunbeams hearts. It’s the sweetest desire with the tried and true toppings of choice: sprinkles, glaze, and frosting.
The receipts print satisfying.
I once thought the donut hole was the only thing unfinished. Seeing this half eaten donut in this wax paper bag sent me to a stream of consciousness.
Photo evidence of half-eaten donut. Winter 2024.
At a metaphysical level, it was as if the state of donut affairs alchemized true crime — in this very moment, a child left half of his childhood in the bag. The saying about never leave money on the table hit hard.
He missed the chance to be raw, unhinged, over sugared, and careless.
He missed the chance to practice gluttony and ignorance of sugars’ debilitating impacts on the body.
He missed me saying slow down, you’re eating too much too fast, because he wasn’t doing any of that at all.
He missed the jumpies euphoria from a cake donut. Sidenote: There’s a reason I allow the occasional ice cream before dinner. The jumpies subside before bedtime easier that way.
Of all things I’m likely projecting in my mix of joy, grief, and esteem, let it be this. It was missing the chance for me to have the unabridged and proud-whatever-dont-judge-me mom moment of giving my kid something that he probably shouldn’t be eating too regularly, but in this moment yes he can.
I also appreciated the ancestor or 10,000 in him that have restraint, pause, and a sense of fullness. Hell, we can state the obvious, he might’ve just been full.
I’m not alone in my thinking…
Maybe this is what Kimberly Seals Allers meant in The Big Letdown. She researched studies on how “breastfed babies eat from their feeding cues and then stop when they feel full.” Such learned behavior can support early awareness of portion control, and gain a protective factor reducing the risk of obesity. Fortunately unfortunately, the global pandemic brought me to three years breastfeeding — a long time for the modern day working mom in America.
Equally enlightening, Like a Mother by Angel Garbes detailed how microchimerisms and maternal cells occupy residency in fetuses and can exist “not merely as passive travelers but some grow, thrive, and persist in our bodies for decades, lifetimes, and even generations.” The generational, ancestral sense of the half-eaten donut being enough is backed by science.
The other sight to this self-engineered drama leads me to the undoing and reinventing of childhood — something my child gets to set more terms on than I ever did. No “clean plate” pressure reminiscent of my 90s kid experiences. I trust that he knows when his body is full.
So maybe the donut didn't fail miserably, nor me as a mother. This spiral of thoughts takes me to, through, and away from the unsightly mom guilt. I really thought the donut would’ve done a better job selling childhood. Yet, and still what remains is Kaiden’s power to choose and believe he’s always enough. It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t say, me too.
P.S. he ate the other half before dinner.
Sources:
Originally posted on Medium