The woman my kids call Grandma bears little resemblance to the woman I once knew as Mommy.

The thought has crossed my mind a lot over the past 10 years, as it did again last weekend when my daughter thanked me profusely for baking snickerdoodles, even though all I'd done was throw some frozen pre-shaped cookie dough into the oven.

I'm not a mom who bakes. I take after my own mom in that respect. Or at least I did. Now my kids seem to have this proper bespectacled granny whose home often smells invitingly of warm sugar and spice.

Where were all these cookies and bars and scones when I was growing up? I'm sure there are holes in my memory, but about all I remember my mom baking when I was a child were tins of chocolate-chip blondie dough from the freezer section of the supermarket.

The apple really doesn't fall too far from the tree, huh?

When I was my son's age, my mom was a lot more like me than like the woman she is today. She was in her mid-30s, working full time around her son's preschool schedule and sometimes seemed like she was barely holding on to her sanity as her fifth-grade daughter (me) practiced all her rebellion tactics at home before taking them out into the real world.

I laughed when I sprouted my first gray hairs in the exact same strip of bangs where hers first came in. I think they pop out right up in front because it's more effective to show the kids they're making you old than it is to tell them they're raising your blood pressure.

My mom still works full time, but without two kids to chase around she finally has the chance to get creative in the kitchen. I often show up early in the morning to find her cooking several entrees at once or offering me treats still warm from the oven for breakfast. For a stretch, her house was the only place the kids and I got home-cooked meals.

But it's not as if she's gone all domestic-goddess. She's more social now than she ever was and she and her friends don't just go out for karaoke night. They hang out in places like Sydney, Hong Kong, Beijing, Germany, Bangkok, Budapest and Prague.

I swear, a lot of the time she seems more youthful and adventurous than I do.

If women really grow up to be their mothers — and we all know that's at least partly true — I hope I'm just like her when my kids start bringing their own knee-biters by to visit, cookies and all.

Reach Treena Shapiro at tshapiro@honoluluadvertiser.com.