"Real Moms Don't Cook," says Jessica Soffer in a New York Times editorial on Sunday, May 12, Mother's Day.

Her take on the matter?  "My mom is the stuff that dreams are made of, minus the homemade meatloaf and marble cake."  Not that I, the author of this tidbit, am the 'mother' that dreams are made of but, I can claim this:  I don't wield a spatula on any kind of regular basis thus I am not as they say tradition - and so, I take vindication where I can find it.


You can collect recipes, eat good food and enjoy life - and still store your New Yorker Magazines as she points out in an oven that hasn't cracked 200 degrees on her watch.  You can still be a mother and a

darn good one and defy the Hallmark Card, Harriette as in Ozzie version who hovers, tortuous kitchen utensils in hands and makes you eat every last bite of that homemade pea soup.  Makes you appreciate who each of us are and the fascinating journey of our life stories.  


The author ends with this:  "The nice part was being in my mother's hands, whether those hands held a spatula or not."