Free Messy Beautiful Love by Darlene Schacht

it. And she makes it well .
    As a result of this upbringing, she was armed with some of the best recipes. Unfortunately, they weren’t written in a book, and they didn’t include “a cup of this and a tablespoon of that.” They were “a handful of this and some of that.” When it came to cooking, Mom didn’t have to measure or read; she just knew. And while she mixed a bit of this and some of that, she worked quickly to get the job done.
    She always wore aprons, which is probably why I still love them so much. They had a way of dressing up any outfit. Not that she needed any dressing up since she was, and still is, the kind of woman who keeps herself pretty. Slender and tall withchestnut-colored hair and chocolate brown eyes, she has classic beauty. Think Judy Garland in the Wizard of Oz . Not overly done, just done up enough to keep turning Dad’s head. Why he didn’t have neck problems I’ll never know.
    She was a June Cleaver type who did it all, and did it all well. There was never a pile of laundry to be found. She and Dad had six girls, and each of us had a dresser full of clean clothes always folded and fresh. Every pair of socks had a match, and every pair of underwear was folded just right. Her whites were white, her blacks were black, and her colors were vibrant.
    It was her mission to make our home pretty. Whether she was sliding the couch from one wall to the other or refilling a vase with fresh flowers, she was always changing things up. The only thing she never seemed to change was the way that she cooked. She did things a particular way because they just didn’t taste quite right to her if they were done differently.
    Being the creative type that I am, my idea of cooking was much different from hers. My desire has always been to create new recipes and to experiment a little by changing things up. But the kitchen wasn’t my canvas. It wasn’t a place where I could create. Cooking was a chore that was done the same way day in and day out. Get in the kitchen and help Mom by washing the dishes and setting the table, so she can get the job done.
    My sister Bonnie started baking in her teens. She learned to make carrot and spice cake at school, so Mom encouraged her to bake on the weekends. The rule was that if Bonnie waswilling to bake, I had to clean up the mess. Lucky for me. Unfortunately, her love for baking increased while my love for the kitchen decreased. I couldn’t stand the smell of cake and cookies and didn’t eat them for years. However, I could really wash mixing bowls!
    I was determined to change things with my kids. The kitchen is our space to have fun and create. This is the place where memories are made and new recipes are discovered. This is the space where we bond as a family. We’re not perfect when it comes to the food that we make, but we enjoy the process of cooking together and enjoying a meal. Did I mention that I make the best spaghetti sauce ever? I do.
    A few years ago I went out of town for a couple of days to attend a writing conference. I think that Madison must have been about eleven, and while I was gone, she was helping Michael cook for the boys. If having three brothers has taught her anything, it’s that men appreciate good food. When I got home from the conference, Michael told me that Madison wanted to start cooking the dinner meals. She was ready and willing to take on the job. My first thought was that he was out of his mind. There was no way this idea would stick for more than a day. My second thought was how inexperienced she was. Would we be eating cereal day after day? Was toast on the menu? Not taking them too seriously, I decided to step back and give her free rein for a while. She wasn’t perfect at first—nobody is—but four years later I have a young chef on my hands.
    She doesn’t do all the cooking by any means, but she enjoys it enough to experiment with recipes a few times a week.
    In so many ways, taking a step back in my kitchen reminds me of