Baby steps

I was raised in a home where everything had a "correct" way of being done. Making beds, cleaning toilets, folding laundry--everything. My mom's house is immaculate. If you wanted to, you could eat off the floor. Some things have stuck with me since I've left my parent's house. Shawn can't touch the clothes since he can't fold right (he's pretty torn up about it). Unfortunately, the compulsive cleaning gene didn't transfer to me. But one way I see my upbringing in my life is my cooking. I need a recipe. If I don't have one, I don't make it. (I follow a recipe for hard boiled eggs). If I don't have have an ingredient, I don't make it. I don't like to substitute things, it causes me stress.

I didn't plan dinner for tonight, not a rare occurrence, especially when I know Shawn won't be home to eat with us. But, there's always something we can eat. Tonight I thought waffles would be good. So, I get out my Krusteaz, and remember I don't have vegetable oil. It's okay. I can use apple sauce! Huge step for me. So, I open the fridge to find we don't have apple sauce either. I do see apple butter. Now, most, or all, would move on, not me. I take out the apple butter, and think and worry and stress about the outcome of waffles that don't have oil in them. But, I'm hungry, the boys are hungry, and I already told Luke that's what we're having and if you're smart you don't change plans on the 4 year old. So I do it. I use apple butter instead. The world is still spinning, and the waffles were still waffles. And tasty.