It's all in how you slice the bread.

The few weeks have been particularly trying. (Which, if you know me at all explains why I threw myself into a home improvement project to find some balance.) I'm having a difficult time letting go of the things that are weighing me down. I needed a breakthrough, something my mind would accept as a valid reason to move on and let go of those things out of my control and life would still be just fine.

It's funny how those moments come so randomly.

For supper tonight we had decided on breakfast (our favorite thing to have!). Tonight's menu: French toast and sausage.  Just as I finished cutting the toast to dip and cook it, Allison walked in.  She took one look at my diagonally cut toast and let out a huge sigh. "Mom, you know I like it cut into strips!"

I hung my head.  I knew this.  I just was focused on actually getting everything done and not the details I usually pay more attention to.  Usually, I'd be unforgiving of myself for this but tonight, I looked at her and said, "I promise the diagonals will taste just the same.  You will live."  She shrugged and left the room.

It was that moment when it hit me.  A memory from my childhood that has stood out and is something I think of every single time I make French Toast.  When I was little, my mom always cut the bread in halves.  I always wanted them cut diagonally.  I very clearly remember her telling me one day in a frustrated tone that "when I made the French Toast, I could cut it however I wanted."  but while she was cooking it she would cut it her way... and most importantly "I would not die."

Yes, this is the trauma from my youth.  Clearly, I had it rough.

It could have been I caught my mom on a rough day because this memory stands out so clearly to me.  It was, honestly, crushing.  It turns out it was also a life lesson that would come to light when I was a 40 year old mom of two...

 It really doesn't matter how the bread is cut, it will taste the same... and more importantly... it will not kill me if it's not cut the way I prefer.

No, it's not about the bread... it's about life.  Things aren't always going to go the way I'd like.  There will be rough patches.  I won't always be the perfect mom, but I'll keep trying.  Most of all... it's ok to let go of the things that aren't how I would prefer them or that weigh me down because in the end, in the bigger picture, it's simply how the bread is cut, it won't change the final outcome.

Thanks, Mom, for the life lesson.  For not changing the way you cut my French Toast that day years ago that you probably don't even remember.  Turns out, it was a great life lesson... and you were right... I didn't die.

It feels good to be ok again.  Maybe I should make French Toast more often.

**Although, really would it have been that difficult to cut it diagonally?  That's way easier than cutting it into slices ;-)  haha!