Stirring the pot about bake sales, obligation and community

I am the rare woman (apparently, judging from what I read online) who doesn’t feel particularly guilty about my choices and doesn’t have a problem saying “no” to non-business demands on my time that I’m not interested in. Maybe that’s why I can say to those who would bring something from the local grocery store to a school bake sale—why bother?—and mean it without any snarkiness.

The latest nontroversy in the henhouse of first world privilege was sparked by a piece in last week’s New York Times about whether “‘Store Bought’ Spoils the Potluck Spirit.” There are so many layers to this “very important” discussion. The title and parts of the essay talk about potlucks, but the main issue seems to be surrounding mommies who bake goods for bake sales vs. mommies who drop off store-bought goodies.

As far as potluck dinners someone may be invited to, or office parties calling for contributions, things like that, I don’t see a problem with bringing something store bought. Personally, I prefer homemade food and would make something from home myself, but, not everyone is a cook. I still recall a Harris Teeter cherry pie brought for dessert by couple we had over for dinner and it was amazing.

For bake sales, though, it just seems silly to contribute store bought goods. It’s beyond ridiculous to have a situation wherein people are in a gymnasium paying 50 cents per Oreo or something. The point of the bake sale is the school gaining from the value-added labor put in by the dedicated home bakers for the baked goods, not the markup on costs of ingredients. Or is it? I mean some school districts actually forbid home-baked goods at bake sales due to allergies, lack of controls over home kitchens, etc. So, why in the world even have a “bake” sale?

Honestly, as much as I like baking, the bake sale does seem like a relic of times past in which women had a “signature cookie” (I do!) and keep flour, sugar, butter and eggs on hand in the house. I’m not so sure people do this anymore, in general. But, practical matters aside, the NYT article generated alot of discussion of broader issues from feminism, to how pressed working moms are, to how needy schools really are…

In the many online responses to the NYT story, we heard angrily indignant outbursts suggesting bake sales are just a way for stay-at-home-moms to show off, we hear of the life-altering anxiety some women feel when asked to bake something (really?!?) and a whole organized discussion on NYT itself showcasing a range of opinions on the matter. There are those who claim it’s sexist to have bake sales because of an assumption that it is incumbent on the women to bake. But, that is about people’s own hang ups. I personally know a man who is a president/CEO who took a personal day to do holiday baking, so there! There are people who moan that they just don’t have the time. Again I point to my CEO friend, and would also argue that it only takes about a half hour to make basic chocolate chip cookies or a batch of brownies.

Really, though, people, it’s simple: If you don’t like baking or, at any juncture in your life don’t want to bake or don’t have time to bake then just don’t sign up for the bake sale. You don’t have to do everything. You can find another way to contribute, if you wish.

I took great pleasure in dreaming up the cupcakes pictured above—my constellation cupcakes for a space-themed event. I looked up constellations online. I mixed what I thought was just the right shade of blue frosting to represent sky (definitely an abstraction, of course). I had to go to the city to Dean & Deluca to get silver dragees to decorate them with. I didn’t know they’d be so hard to come by, and pricey, when I designed the cupcakes, but I had a vision. And, I won a Starbucks gift card for my trouble (not sure how that factored into the profits of the fundraising event, but mine is not to reason why in this case…)

I am not big on school fundraisers, personally. My view is, charge me more for tuition (in the case of our current private preschool). Or, ask for donations, if it has to come to that. Or, raise taxes for the public schools.

Also, my view about “community” and how to be a part of it has a changed a little since I blogged about baking cupcakes for a preschool affair two years ago, right around the same time a similar (though less widely publicized) blurb came out on the web, and while I still like to bake and will do so at any opportunity given, I’ve had a dose of reality about how much contributing to such things actually makes one part of a community.

After a healthy amount of volunteering, I still don’t feel super connected in my kid’s school community, so it takes something more than this, and I am still trying to figure out what that is. I have made a couple of friends, but I still feel a little bit like an outsider. That may just be my own issue. I’m not sure why. It could be because since I do work some, I am not free at any and all hours for various activities. It could be because I only have one kid. I don’t know why for sure. But, I’m OK with it, since she’ll be going to another school next year for kindergarten and I don’t know that the public school scene is as insular, and I do know that I don’t care all that much. My kid will find her friends and be fine. We’ll both learn as we go.

I am kind of eating my words about community, though, but stand by my love of baking!

Extreme cou-pining

I came across some tweets a couple weeks ago on the Extreme Couponing fraud controversy and was like, what?!? (This, apparently, is old news.) After briefly admiring the cleverness of the numbers game the fraud lady played, I was taken aback by the effort of it all. Coincidentally, a couple days later, a friend of mine blogged about the show, basically capturing my feelings on couponing, extreme or otherwise: It’s not my thing.

Now today, after sitting on this post for a while, worrying about looking like some rich bitch who’s too good to want to save a dolla AND trying to find time to come up with some jazzy imagery, Jezebel posts on couponing, inspiring me to get off my duff and finish my post—and it’s just what I was thinking: most extreme couponers aren’t doing it for the savings.

I remember my mom clipped coupons, for a while. We were a one-income household of three kids and she was doing her part to spend my dad’s earnings wisely. Even mom gave up, though, after realizing that time (and effort) to some extent, really is money. The time it would take to go to this store versus that for the better deal. The time to go through the paper, organize the coupons, keep track of expirations and such. You have to buy two of this, four of that. Sometimes its just better to dash out and get what you want or need when you need it, rather than being lured into buying certain things because you have coupons for them. And, oh yeah, you have to remember to bring the coupon to the store! (I can’t even remember to bring bags to re-use.) OK, well, I guess it’s not that hard, if you keep it basic, but for many women, even this feels just like so much more household drudgery and wouldn’t we really rather be reading the paper instead of combing through coupons for processed foods we shouldn’t be eating anyway? I have NEVER seen a coupon for an apple or a tomato.

These extreme couponers employ strategies like buying multiple newspapers for more coupons (even the “realistic couponer” buys two newspapers), and then stockpiling goods, and buying things they never even would use—just for the thrill of the deal. Or, is it something else that drives them? A yearning for some sense of purpose? Has the dignity of keeping a home been reduced to commercial feats of acquiring the most goods while saving the most money? And at what cost? Does couponing provide them with a feeling of security? Maybe having 100 cleaning wipes, 450 rolls of toilet paper and 250 paper towels in stock makes a person feel prepared for anything? Of course, maybe to many it’s just good fun, and how someone chooses to spend their free time is really not my business. I’m sure many wouldn’t “get” why I’d choose to go run in the woods for four hours. Like the hoarders, though, in my view, extreme couponers seem to be pining for something beyond a good deal or well-stocked cupboards that I am not sure the couponing experience can deliver.