So the other day I tried making some cookies, just because I felt like baking. Confession: they turned out terrible! I made one batch and they were flat and burned. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but all I knew is I was very upset. I was crying for about a hour thinking about how I wouldn’t be a good mom because I wouldn’t know how to bake for my future kids.
Obviously that is the farthest thing from the truth. I have made plenty of good batches of cookies and cakes over my life, with and without my mom and I know that I can do it again. When I was crying my husband kept asking me why I was reacting so strongly. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but then I finally realized that it’s because of my childhood. When I was little my mom liked to bake, especially during the holidays. I loved the way our house smelled, pumpkin breads, sugar cookies, chocolate chip cookies. I was feeling like a failure because I wasn’t baking like I had always had. Thankfully I was able to calm down and realize that it wasn’t the end of the world.