Sunday, February 22, 2015

A Jar of Sauce

Let me just be very real with you for a sec. In my home, I can be a bit of a control freak. There is only one correct way to do it--and that way is mine. I go behind whoever loaded the dishwasher & rearrange it. We mustn't clash our outfits in family photos--oh the horror! And if anyone buys the wrong brand of flour, may heaven help you. And I don't care of I ignored our train wreck of a home for three weeks, if someone is coming over, my family had better grab a rag & get to scrubbin'. I can go from a sweet encourager to a cray cray drill sergeant in no time. I feel it happening sometimes, and I still can't hold back.

Any ladies feel me on this?

Here's the thing though: my need to control it all will never get me what I want. What is it that I'm wanting in these crazy moments? I think it's certainty. I think I need to KNOW that our photos won't look goofy so people will think good thoughts about our family, I need to KNOW that the dishes will all fit so we don't fall behind on dishes, and the flour... No answers there except that I'm neurotic & ridiculous.

The only thing for certain in life is that nothing is certain. I can never control everything--simply because most of life is out of my control. So I try to control all the little things to make myself feel better about the big things I can't control. And nothing changes. In fact, the harder I hang on to the little things, the worse I make things on myself and on my family.

The harder I razz my husband about how he didn't clean the bathroom according to my color coded instructions, the less he will volunteer to clean the bathroom in the future. Kidding about the color coding--I'm not that crazy... Unless we're talking about flour here. Then all bets are off.

Tonight, I had a headache that has been plaguing me for a while. My husband lovingly offered to cook dinner. I felt relief & dread in the same moment. For one, the man knows how to make approximately three things: 1) boxed mac n cheese 2) spaghetti and 3) grilled cheese sandwiches. Also, he doesn't have the best track record with cooking. He once made hamburger helper that was so far beyond help I don't think anyone would have been able to identify it. Let alone eat it. Three, he told me he was making spaghetti and I'm a control freak who takes an hour to make marinara sauce before I'll consider eating it. Jarred sauce is never OK, and I knew that's what he would use. I'm a total food snob. It's a big problem.

I fought the urge to control the situation & just said thank you. But inside I wanted to sneak out to the store for some fresh basil. I didn't. But I so wanted to.

I walked into the kitchen for a glass of water midway through him cooking. I stirred the pot of pasta and that's when he came up behind me and said "Babe. I've got this. Go lay down."

In that moment, I felt like such an idiot. Here I am stressing over friggin' marinara sauce when I have a man right in front of me who will love and care for me for the rest of our lives. I really am crazy!

As he served us up, I watched him walk across the kitchen with a very worn kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder. He put the noodles in three bowls and sat them on the table. My heart overflowed with gratitude and a big smile came across my face. I know it will be a moment I will smile about for years to come. Sometimes those aha moments come in the weirdest ways. Mine came in a can of marinara sauce sitting on my counter.

As we sat down to eat, he told our son "I know it's not as good as mommy's" and winked at me.

I have say that was my favorite bowl of spaghetti I ever had.

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