Y’all, I have a Culinary Arts degree from (what was at the time I graduated) the second-best culinary institute in America. And yet, this morning, I burned turkey bacon in the microwave. I hadn’t made it in a while and cooked it for 1 minute a slice when it should have been 30 seconds a slice.
This doesn’t make me a rotten person, a bad mom or incompetent. I made an error in judgement and learned a lesson. I made a mistake that didn’t harm anyone and didn’t set off the smoke alarm.
I didn’t beat myself up, I merely dumped the paper towels and bacon in a plastic bag and threw it out the back door so the smell did not permeate the house (when the hubs comes home he’ll put it in the outside trash can). And B & I had a good laugh about it. I use to be THAT person who literally cried over spilled milk. But I decided to stop that shit in 2015. It’s been hard, but worth it: to not get upset with myself nor my child when accidents happen. I’m happier. He’s happier. Our home is calmer. Eliminating these particular emotional roller coasters from my life have been good for me and those around me.
It’s OK if you burn bacon, too. You’re human and accidents happen. Take a deep breath, throw it out the back door and start again.
Now excuse me, I need to make B some more bacon.