The Sweet Spot: Time with My Adult Daughters (and Cake, Glorious Cake)

There’s something truly magical about raising daughters. One minute, they’re tiny tornadoes of glitter and snack crumbs, asking existential questions like “Mom, where do clouds go at night?” and the next, they’re full-grown women, capable of intelligent conversation, thoughtful opinions, and—most importantly—baking cakes from scratch.

Last night, I got to spend time with two of my three daughters, and let me tell you, it was one of those moments where I sat back and thought, Wow, I did it. I raised real humans who can function in society—and they even feed me.

When I arrived at my daughter’s house, I was greeted by the warm, citrusy aroma of homemade orange poppyseed cake. Now, I don’t know if there’s a Nobel Prize category for baking something that makes your mother weep with joy, but if there is, she deserves it.

We sat around the table, forks in hand, chatting about life, work, and all the things that make adulthood both wildly fulfilling and slightly ridiculous. And as I listened to them talk—really talk—I had one of those rare, quiet mom wins wash over me. You know, the kind that make every sleepless night, every PTA meeting, and every “I don’t care who started it, BOTH of you stop!” worth it.

When you’re in the thick of raising kids, it’s hard to imagine a day when they won’t need you for everything. You spend years making sure they eat their vegetables, wear clean socks, and don’t lick the shopping cart handle, only to blink and realize… they made it. They became these incredible, capable women who choose to spend time with you—not because they need permission for a sleepover, but because they actually enjoy your company.

Each of my daughters has forged her own incredible path. My youngest is out in NYC, living her dreams, attending Fashion Week events, and soaking in the energy of a city that never sleeps (while I, personally, enjoy the wonders of being in bed by 10 p.m.). One is an environmental scientist, working to save the planet while probably judging my use of plastic straws. Another works for a software company, doing things with technology that I don’t fully understand but that make me nod and say, "Wow, that sounds important."

And the best part? Each one of them is my favorite.

Yes, I said it. I have a favorite child. All of them. And no, that’s not a cop-out—it’s the truth. Each one is my favorite in her own unique way, and if you ask me to pick, I’ll just change the subject and offer you some cake.

Of course, this stage of life comes with its own set of changes. For instance, when they were little, I could solve most problems with a hug, a snack, or—let’s be honest—a well-timed bribe. Now? Now, they have real-life dilemmas, deep thoughts, and opinions that actually make sense. And while it’s wonderful, it’s also humbling.

But let me tell you what’s even better than deep conversations and mutual respect—cake. When your child reaches the stage of life where they are not only emotionally mature but also capable of baking for you, that’s when you know you’ve truly arrived.

So to all the moms still in the trenches of homework battles, sticky counters, and bedtime negotiations—hold on. The day will come when you’ll sit across from your grown child, laughing over coffee, sharing stories like equals, and savoring something sweet.

And when that day comes, I hope there’s cake.

P.S. I also have an amazing son who absolutely deserves his own post. Don’t worry—his turn is coming. But this one? This one was just for the girls.