Recently, I was holed up in a hotel room while attending an educational program. My after class routine included clearing e-mails and returning phone calls. I checked my business phone mail and after five basic business calls, was welcomed by the effervescent voice of my daughter, Bethany. A warm smile crept up to tease my study weary face.

"Hi mom, this is your daughter calling to tell you a few things. First of all, travel safe so that we can celebrate your next birthday. Second, you kick butt Girl! Make me proud while you are out in the field with all those testosterone bulging males. Three, I won a baking contest and you know that you never thought that would happen, huh? Call me when you can!" Click.

Ah, my daughter, my cheerleader and most loyal fan. My daughter, the gift, the joy, the "good mother", and a rising star in her own rite. She is in the midst of a blooming career where mine will taper down over the next ten years or so. I have already run the hill and dug in my 2" heels for the hard climb to the top of my profession.

I paused in the center of my reflection to turn the corner to total bewilderment as her third remark settled in around my thought cells. My daughter won a cake-baking contest? How could that happen when the only baking she has ever done was slice and bake cookies from the dairy section of the grocery store. Her specialty is green bean casserole that involves opening a bag of frozen green beans, tossing them in a baking dish and scattering them with mushroom soup and onion rings. Then, bake at 350 degrees for thirty minutes while leisurely soaking in a lilac suds bath!

I wondered if it was possible that no one else entered the contest. OF course, that was it - she won by default! Or, maybe she called a deli and they whipped up something for her and she simply transferred it to her Pampered Chef ® baking dish as if it were her own.

I have always been the one to bake for all family events. Fond memories of my beautifully decorated Easter cake "basket" filled my mind and overshadowed my daughter's baking award. Flash backs of the unique cookies I baked at Christmas to fill tins crystallized in my thoughts. I was the baker in our family and my daughter never embraced her mother's joy in delicious fragrances shooting out of the oven to form a baker's halo!

How did this happen? Is she striving to be her mother? Is she finally blossoming into full womanhood? Is she becoming all I envisioned her to become?

Ring. Ring. The baker's daughter answered. The Queen Baker congratulated the baker's daughter on her recent award and begged for details. The story unfolded.

My daughter began, "Well, my boss was in charge of team activities and asked me to support her in a cake baking contest. No, I still don't like to bake, but I am a team player, Mother. You know I inherited your competitive genes so I went at this to win. I wanted my baking item to speak about me personally so I baked a "better than sex" cake. Visual huh?"
Now, I am in good health. I attend yoga classes weekly and walk briskly at least two times a week. I do push ups faithfully as well, but my heart nearly stopped at the delivery of the baker's daughter's tale and strong visual aid.

"Yes", she went on, "the cake was moist and delicious and very appealing to the human eye. My peers agreed and I won the contest. I won a $50 gift certificate at a local pottery store so I will get your Christmas present out of the way early this year."

Zap. Bang. Ding. Boink. My soft, gentle, caring daughter has turned the joy of baking in to a competition - a materialistic mania. She will not, with heart and soul carry on her mother's baking of delectable gifts at the holidays. She won't fill shoeboxes with second-generation recipes. Her cabinets will never bulge with parchment paper, special spatulas and cookie granules. The aroma of spices won't linger in her home for days after a baking frenzy that surrounds family birthdays, anniversaries or other special family times. The baker's daughter played an April's fool on her mother.

I recovered. "Wonderful sweetheart. Good creativity at work again. I am so proud of you. You go girl! Save a piece of that cake for me." The baker's daughter replied, "Sure Mom - I will save the recipe for you and when you try it out, feel free to call me… it's not a mix you know!