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So remember when I said I was trying to figure out how to turn my little bakery idea into an actual business?

Well, I recently had my first meeting with a SCORE business mentor.

If you’ve never heard of SCORE, it’s basically a nonprofit organization that connects people starting or growing businesses with volunteer business mentors. They can help with things like business planning, finances, marketing, operations, and all the other stuff that comes with trying to turn an idea into an actual business.

Which sounded perfect for me because, while I know how to bake, I’m still very much learning the whole “how do I turn this into a business without accidentally losing all my money?” part.

And honestly… so far, it’s been a mixed bag.

Not necessarily bad. I definitely walked away with some useful information, and she’s already helping connect me with someone who can help me figure out the legal and licensing side of everything.

But I also walked away from the meeting thinking, Okay… but do I actually agree with all of this?

And the answer is apparently no.

One of the first things she told me was that I need to pick one product and make it work.

Apparently, I am overloading my customers with too many options.

Which, okay, I understand the argument.

There’s this thing called choice overload, where if you give people too many options, they can actually have a harder time deciding what they want. And when you’re a tiny business just starting out, having a million different products also means a million different things you have to shop for, prep, bake, package, price, and somehow make consistently.

She basically thinks I should pick one thing, make it amazing, get that recipe almost perfect, and then move on to something else.

And honestly?

I don’t completely disagree.

There’s definitely something to be said for having one really good product that people associate with you. If someone starts saying, “Oh my God, you HAVE to try her cinnamon rolls,” that’s a pretty good problem to have.

But then another part of my brain is sitting here going…

Have you ever been inside a bakery?

Because real bakeries have variety.

I understand not wanting me to start with 30 different things. I’m not trying to open a full pastry shop out of my kitchen with a display case that requires me to wake up at 3 a.m.

But I also don’t necessarily want to build a business around one product.

Part of what I love about bakeries is having choices. Maybe I want a cookie. Maybe you want a pie. Maybe someone else wants a loaf of bread. Maybe I walked in for a brownie and somehow left with a box of six things because I have no self-control.

That’s part of the fun.

And I think this is where I’ve realized that maybe I’m not actually trying to build a bakery with a ton of variety.

I’m trying to build a bakery with a very specific personality.

The more I think about it, the more I see the brand as roughly:

70% cozy + nostalgic baked goods
The banana breads, pies, cookies, brownies, classic things that feel like something your grandma might have made—or something you ate growing up and suddenly desperately need again.

20% seasonal + whimsical
Things that change with the seasons, fun flavor combinations, cute little twists on familiar desserts, and things that make the menu feel special without being completely unfamiliar.

And then…

10% unhinged baking experiment.

This is where things get interesting.

Because I want that 10%.

I want to be able to occasionally look at a recipe and think, What if I did this?

I want somewhere in the business where I can be weird.

But I also don’t want my 10% unhinged baking experiment to somehow turn into 90% of my workload.

And I definitely don’t want customers opening my menu and thinking, What the hell is this woman doing?

So that’s the part I’m still trying to figure out.

How do I give myself room to experiment without overwhelming myself?

How do I give customers something new and fun without making them feel like they need a flowchart to order a cookie?

Maybe that’s what the rotating item is for.

Instead of having a giant menu full of experimental products, I could have one little space for it.

A Strange Little Thing.

One item.

One recipe.

One chance for me to get a little weird.

And if people love it? Great.

If nobody wants it? I learned something and move on.

That feels much more manageable than trying to make my entire bakery experimental.

But then we got into something that honestly might change my entire original plan.

I had been thinking about eventually having a brick-and-mortar bakery or bakery/café.

That was always the big dream.

In my head, I had this whole progression mapped out: start from home, get the cottage food license, sell locally, maybe do farmers markets, build up a customer base, and eventually have my own little storefront.

Very cute.

Very Pinterest.

Very look at me, I have a bakery now.

Except… when we actually started talking about what opening a physical bakery would cost, I had to admit that it might not be particularly realistic.

A storefront isn’t just rent.

It’s the commercial equipment. The renovations. Utilities. Insurance. Employees. Inventory. Permits. Maintenance. All the things you don’t think about when you imagine the cute little bakery part.

And the reality is that a brick-and-mortar location could require a lot of money before I even sell my first cookie.

Her suggestion was that a commercial kitchen might make more sense.

And honestly, that completely changes things.

Because now I’m wondering if I even want to start with a cottage food license at all.

Maybe I eventually operate out of a commercial kitchen instead.

And if that’s the route I take, that means I have a whole new set of things to research.

Different permits.

Different licensing requirements.

Different rules about what I can make and sell.

Different costs.

Different insurance.

Different kitchen requirements.

Potentially different rules for selling at farmers markets.

And now I’m sitting here like…

Cool. Great. Love that for me.

I thought I was researching how to start a tiny home bakery.

Now I’m researching commercial kitchens.

So the business plan I thought I was putting together might need to be looked at completely differently.

And honestly, I’m not mad about it.

I actually think this is why talking to people who have experience with businesses is useful.

I don’t necessarily need someone to tell me exactly what business I should build.

I need someone to point out things I haven’t considered.

And this was definitely one of those things.

She also isn’t really a fan of farmers markets.

This one surprised me because farmers markets were one of the first things I was considering.

Her issue is basically that there are a lot of rules and regulations involved, and she isn’t a huge fan of the government telling you what you can and can’t do.

And I understand that side of it.

There is a LOT of paperwork and regulation surrounding selling food, and sometimes it does feel like there are 17 different people who need to approve me before I can hand someone a loaf of banana bread.

At the same time, I don’t think regulation is automatically bad.

If I’m buying food from someone, I would like to know that they’re following basic food-safety requirements.

So that one is still very much in the “we’ll see” category for me.

Then we got into dietary restrictions, and this is where I started realizing that there are some things I probably need to take with a grain of salt.

She actually thought having a gluten-free item would be a great idea.

And I agree that having an option for people with dietary restrictions could potentially be really smart.

But there were also parts of the conversation where I realized…

She isn’t a baker.

Which isn’t an insult. She’s a business mentor, not a pastry chef.

But baking and general cooking are not exactly the same thing.

There was some discussion around ingredients like butter and milk, and I was sitting there thinking, But… I can bake with butter and milk.

Those are extremely normal baking ingredients.

And then my brain immediately went to fudge and caramels because both can have things like milk, butter, cream, and sugar as major ingredients.

So I think that was one of those moments where I had to remind myself that I’m talking to someone for business advice, not necessarily someone who understands every weird little technicality of baking.

And honestly, that’s okay.

Because the best thing that came out of this meeting so far is that she is going to refer me to another business mentor who has more experience with the legal side of things and can help me walk through the licenses and permits.

And THAT is something I desperately need.

Because now that the commercial kitchen idea is on the table, I have even more questions.

What does that actually cost?

What permits would I need?

Would I still be able to sell at farmers markets?

Would I need different insurance?

What kind of kitchen would I need?

Would it actually be more affordable than starting under the cottage food rules?

Would I be better off starting from home first and moving into a commercial kitchen later?

I don’t know yet.

Which means I have more research to do.

Because apparently every time I answer one bakery question, I unlock three more.

And this is where I’m realizing that starting a bakery is less like following a checklist and more like playing a video game where every completed task unlocks another side quest.

Overall, I don’t think my mentor is wrong.

I also don’t think she’s completely right.

And I actually think that’s okay.

The meeting made me think more seriously about consistency, recipe development, production, costs, and whether I’m realistically trying to do too much at once.

Those are all things I need to figure out.

But I also know what I want this bakery to feel like.

I don’t want to build something that feels boring just because it’s easier.

I want seasonal things.

I want to experiment sometimes.

I want people to have choices.

I want the majority of the menu to feel cozy and nostalgic, I want a little bit of seasonal whimsy, and I want just enough chaos to keep things interesting.

Basically:

70% cozy + nostalgic
20% seasonal + whimsical
10% completely unhinged

I just need to figure out how to make that work as an actual business.

And I need to figure out how to do all of that without accidentally creating a 30-item menu and becoming a full-time employee of my own kitchen.

So for now, I’m taking the advice that makes sense, questioning the advice that doesn’t, and looking for more people who know different parts of the business.

Because apparently starting a bakery isn’t just about knowing how to bake.

You also need to know about permits, pricing, production, marketing, customers, regulations, commercial kitchens, farmers markets, and approximately 47 things nobody thinks about when they say, “You should sell your cookies!”

I’m still very much at the beginning of this.

I don’t have all the answers.

I’m not even sure I have all the questions yet.

But I’m learning.

And maybe that’s what this stage of the process is supposed to look like.

A little bit of research.

A little bit of questioning.

A little bit of “wait, is this actually good advice?”

And a whole lot of figuring it out as I go.

Hopefully, somewhere along the way, I’ll figure out whether I’m building a small bakery…

or just becoming the woman who makes an unreasonable amount of banana bread.

Either way, I guess we’ll find out.

Apparently, according to my doctor, I have already been a bad mom—and the baby isn’t even here yet.

There are plenty of things I was supposed to do during this pregnancy that I either didn’t do, didn’t do consistently, or just flat-out ignored.

For starters, my skincare routine? Basically nonexistent. Exercise? Let’s not pretend. I also definitely didn’t wear my compression socks for as long as I probably should have.

I was also apparently supposed to eat more protein. The problem is that this baby has decided that meat is unacceptable unless it is somehow disguised as a sandwich. Chicken? Sometimes. Anything else? Absolutely not. So if the baby doesn’t want meat, I’m not exactly going to wrestle with my unborn child over a steak.

I also didn’t heat my lunch meat. Yes, I know. The pregnancy police are coming for me.

I didn’t play classical music to my belly either. I played my music. Sometimes loudly. Apparently, I’ve heard that loud music can affect the baby’s eardrums in the womb, so add that to my growing list of offenses.

I drank herbal tea. I drank coffee. I drank coconut water. I drank orange juice. According to my doctor, these are all supposedly terrible choices for me. I’m still trying to figure out how coconut water became the villain, but apparently even hydration has rules now.

And then there’s the gestational diabetes.

Supposedly, I have it, yet I’ve eaten cake, cookies, and ice cream during this pregnancy, and my glucose numbers have still come back normal. I’ve even made my own soda with seltzer water and sugar-free syrups because apparently I needed to find a way to recreate the experience of drinking a fancy soda while still pretending I’m being responsible.

I’ve eaten seafood. I’ve eaten sushi. I’ve eaten lettuce. I’ve eaten eggs—even though eggs have been recalled at various points during this pregnancy. I’ve eaten Mexican candy that has apparently been found to contain lead. At this point, I feel like I’ve managed to violate an entire pregnancy handbook.

And then there are the baby things.

I’ve bought things for the baby before she was born, which my parents insist is bad luck because infant death is a thing. Apparently, I’m supposed to wait until after the baby arrives to prepare for the possibility that she’ll actually need the things I’m buying for her. That logic has never made sense to me, but here we are.

I’ve also driven while pregnant enough that my stomach has basically been sitting on the steering wheel. Probably not ideal. But when you’re trying to get somewhere, you’re trying to get somewhere.

So when I look back at this pregnancy, I realize I haven’t exactly been the picture-perfect pregnant woman.

I didn’t have the perfect skincare routine. I didn’t exercise like I was supposed to. I didn’t wear my compression socks enough. I didn’t eat enough protein. I didn’t heat my lunch meat. I didn’t play classical music for my belly. I drank coffee and herbal tea. I drank orange juice and coconut water. I ate cake, cookies, ice cream, sushi, seafood, eggs, lettuce, and questionable Mexican candy. I bought baby stuff early. I played my music loud. And yes, I drove with my stomach practically touching the steering wheel.

And somehow, this baby is still in there, growing away, apparently perfectly content.

Maybe pregnancy isn’t about doing every single thing perfectly. Maybe it’s about doing the best you can with the information, energy, appetite, and circumstances you have at the time.

Because if pregnancy has taught me anything, it’s that there is always going to be another rule you didn’t follow, another food you shouldn’t have eaten, another thing you should have done differently, and another person ready to tell you about it.

If this is what being a “bad mom” looks like, I guess I’ve already started preparing for motherhood.

And honestly? I’m pretty sure I’m going to keep disappointing the parenting police.