Pretty much like the rest of us: breakfast with her kids.

My mom is an amazing cook and food is a huge part of our family life, so I understand Gwyneth’s cooking philosophy. I don’t blanche at her dietary restrictions because I think many of us grew up not eating processed foods, minus the upper class privilege. I had canned soup for the first time when I was 10, at a friend’s house, and projectile vomited in the middle of the night. To this day, if you even show me a can of Campbell’s, I heave.

But food, like many aspects of parenting, has become a measure by which mothers can criticize one another. What we eat has deep cultural and socio-economic roots and the judgment starts with breastfeeding vs. formula and goes until they are old enough to figure out how a vending machine works (at which point all control is lost, no matter how much your kid “loves kale”).

GOOP showed Bon Appetit magazine what Apple and Moses will be making her for breakfast on Sunday, complete with photos that are personal but don’t show the kids’ faces straight-on. The writer (an editor from GOOP) remarks at how comfortable and deft the kids are in the test kitchen, which, call me crazy, can’t be faked for a photo shoot. It’s definitely not the first time Apple’s picked up a knife.

The kids are working for Gwyneth here, even if it’s an elite culinary magazine and not a weekly glossy. She’s in heavy promotion mode and family is an essential part of her brand, but instead of sitting on her lap at a fan meet-and-greet, they are slicing a baguette at home. What’s the difference? Proximity. She’s showing us the proper way to do things, not inviting us to sit down at the table. That barrier is subtle, but important.  Like with Blue Ivy, we can catch a glimpse, but not for long.

Come Sunday, no doubt Gwyneth’s plates will be nicer and her napkins will be cloth (instead of paper towel, which somehow we always end up using at my house) but the menu is standard: Apple’s Famous Fruit Salad (love that she named it herself) is just that – a fruit salad. Toasted baguette with olive oil – toast. Breakfast smoothie – well, many of us would prefer a coffee.

We used to make my mom eggs for Mother’s Day. Unbeknownst to us, she hated eggs, but every year she choked them down anyway. So this Sunday, enjoy your raw-in-the-middle pancakes and orange juice with weird floaters. I’m sure G’s smoothie will be a little lumpy, too.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Click here to read the GOOP Mother’s Day in Bon Appetit.