Zoe and the Buckeyes - Literary Lunch 2021

When they were eight, as an assignment for school, my youngest, Zoe, had to create a movie that showed their class how to make a recipe. They chose to make peanut butter buckeyes. We gathered all of the ingredients. A short list, actually: peanut butter, powdered sugar, vanilla extract and chocolate chips. Then, we set up the kitchen and I filmed them going through the steps to make the buckeyes. The recipe was simple, but Zoe brought it to life. Mixing. Talking. Mistaking the word “Q-tip” for the “toothpick” which is used to dip the little peanut butter balls into the melted chocolate. We still laugh about that, and interchange those words whenever possible like a silly inside joke. When Zoe was eight, their little world had been turned upside down by my divorce. They had begun living in two houses. Sharing their parents and celebrating each holiday twice. They went with the flow, and were fairly amenable to the change, given their young age. The kitchen was where we connected. Then and now. 

 Zoe is a hugger. A cuddler. A lover. Zoe is funny. Zoe loves to bake. I think Zoe finds connection to me through being in the kitchen, as it is also my happy place. It’s the place I spend the most of my time. I often say there’s a path I’ve worn in the hardwood floors in my kitchen from the stove to the dishwasher and sink, and back. It’s not untrue. I sometimes think that Zoe realizes they are making up for lost time in the kitchen. Zoe was born with a host of terrible food allergies. They couldn’t have milk proteins. Or soy proteins. Or eggs. Or peanut butter. We even avoided gluten for a while. So, definitely no buckeyes. It was awful. As a parent, it was painful to watch Zoe get so sick in those first days as we were figuring out what was going on. Later, it was hard to explain to so many people why they weren’t able to have the birthday cakes, or the Happy Meals. When we went out to eat, we packed Zoe their own meal. Zoe was the one who went with the flow most of all. They seemed largely unaffected by their allergies, often telling teachers and friends, “I can’t have that.” Still. It was sometimes heartbreaking to hear. Thankfully, they seem to have grown out of the allergies. We still do alternative milks, but cow milk no longer makes Zoe sick. Last night they enjoyed a bowl of ice cream the size of their head. 

 Zoe is stubborn and feisty, and they are not down to take anyone’s bullshit. Like, ever. Even from birth, they were the kid who screamed when they were angry. Full on tantrums. Once, I had to carry Zoe out of Target because of their crying, and as we walked out the door, they yelled, “STOP! YOU ARE NOT MY MOM!” Which was awesome to explain to security. The same qualities that drive me to tears some days are also the qualities in Zoe that I envy. I could be holding a yellow flower, and they will tell me it’s red. They’ll insist I am wrong, roll their eyes, tell me again that I’m wrong, and then go slam a door to prove their point. Each time something like this happens, it leaves me wondering about my perspective. Was I wrong? That isn’t always a bad thing, really. Frustrating, but not a bad thing. When stuff like this happens, it always makes me wonder about who Zoe will be in 10 years. I hope this fire within them stays. I hope that they’re able to funnel that into something that they feel passionately about, and that what seems to me sometimes as frustrating stubbornness will help them fight oppression or injustices. Zoe has a keen sense of equity. Sometimes I just mean in our house when they tell me that something their sister gets to do IS NOT FAIR, but I also see it in other parts of their life. 

Zoe is a noticer. They watch situations at school, and in the media, and are outraged when people are mistreated. At the end of their seventh grade school year, Zoe had had enough of their old school. They were vocal about how frustrating it was to witness injustice, and to be singled out for their gender, which, Zoe will tell you with an eye roll, is a social construct. On more than one occasion, Zoe was told that “girls don’t learn like boys do.” Which is ridiculous enough to have to hear as a female, but Zoe identifies as non-binary and is very sensitive about any talk of gender, especially these sorts of ridiculous stereotypes. I have never been silent about my thoughts on justice, or injustice – but Zoe has their own thoughts about these things and it makes me incredibly proud to watch them navigate that. Often I find myself surprised by their worldliness and knowledge at the age of 14. I know that I was far more self-absorbed at the same age.

In some ways, the kitchen has been both a lifeline and an olive branch for Zoe over the last 18 months. As a lifeline to some sort of normalcy, we have cooked and baked, and tried new recipes. We baked breads. We made desserts. We all gained a fair amount of quarantine weight; as taste testers, that was part of the deal, I guess? Zoe is always willing to help me out, and often it’s the most togetherness we’ve had during the day or week. Togetherness is so much different with teenagers. No one tells you that. As the mother of two children who are VERY close in age, I spent much of the first 10 years of their lives at their beck and call. “Mom! Mommy! Mom! Mommy!” It was so loud here. There was always noise and someone always needed something. Usually they needed me. 

This week we are visiting Jekyll Island, Georgia. We spent seven summers in a row here when the kids were little. We’ve not been here since their dad and I divorced in 2015. It’s been kind of a weird trip, I’ll be honest. We are traveling with my boyfriend and his son. Our kids get along very well. It’s been fun to watch them laughing and carrying on. But, this is still a place that belonged, at one time, to my kids and to the family they thought they were always going to have. Since our divorce, their dad has remarried and his wife has small children who take a lot of time and energy. Zoe went from being the youngest child, to being a middle child, in a very short amount of time. Those kinds of changes are incredibly hard. I have not remarried, but I do have a partner and he has a son. These kinds of changes can be hard, too. I like to think about it as more people to love my children, but I know that is sometimes naive of me. There are always so many layers. 

 The kitchen is an olive branch because sometimes being 14 is just hard. And sometimes when you’re 14, you’re kind of an asshole. And sometimes, when you’re 14, you recognize that you are struggling and probably lashing out at the people who love you most, and so you suggest that on this vacation, we should make buckeyes. So, we gather the ingredients. A short list, actually: peanut butter, powdered sugar, vanilla extract and chocolate chips. We set up in the small kitchen in this condo. The kitchen has a spectacular view of the ocean that makes us talk about moving here. Zoe and their sister Lucy, and Gregg’s son Ian mix and roll and melt chocolate and they laugh and laugh. And the buckeyes turn out to be huge and goopy and messy. The buckeyes are a lifeline and an olive branch. They are made with love and intention. And they are delicious.