We'll laugh about this later. .

Last night was our ward party, to which I had been assigned to bring 3 dozen rolls. I have been busy this week trying to do some much needed deep cleaning in our house, and thought that instead of spending part of a day making rolls, I would just order some from the bread store. You know, just trying to think ahead and simplify my life! I fact, I even called my friend who was also supposed to bring rolls and asked if she wanted me to order her some. Then I could pick them all up at once and save one of us a trip. Quite efficient, I thought!

So, as planned, I picked up the rolls Tuesday night and was pleased as punch with how easy this would be. I would just need to drop them by the church Wednesday morning on my way home from taking the girls to school, and ta-da! Mission accomplished!

It turns out that I must have needed yet another experience to remind me that I am not in control. (I just finished reading the book, I am a Mother, by Jane Clayson Johnson. She pinpoints several myths about motherhood, one of which is "You will be in control. . . .You are a mother, after all." My life is becoming proof that this is indeed a myth!)

I had left the rolls in a box in the van so they would be ready to drop off in the morning. Later that evening I went to hop in the van to run to town, when I noticed the girls had left the van door open. For about one second, I wasn't too concerned. However, the very next second, it occured to me that we are the owners of three cats. This was not a good realization. ALL six dozen of the rolls. Mashed, bags ripped open, eated, destroyed. Not a good moment in my mothering career. I wish I could say I handled it graciously and patiently. But nooooooo. I did not. In fact, it went something like this. 1) March throught the door, 2) slam the door shut. 3) Yell in my very loudest voice, "Who left the van door open? 4) Announce (loudly), "I am going to get rid of those cats." Big mistake. This was followed with crying, wailing, etc. and interpreted as "I am going to kill the cats." And so thereafter, for the rest of the night, every few minutes a wail would break out, "Don't kill the cats!" Finally, at the end of my rope, I stated (also very loudly) that I was not going to kill the cats. That I had never, in fact, even threatened to kill the cats. (Courtney later reminded me that I did. I didn't. Getting rid of the cats does not have to equate to killing the cats.)

It took me an hour or two and some very energetic folding and ironing of our laundry to calm down and realize that this wasn't really that big of a deal. It was just trivial, and we would laugh about it later. I wish I could say I remembered this all in the heat of the moment, but by the time I sorted through it all the girls were already asleep. I had to wait until the next morning to let the girls know that I was sorry I got so upset and that they are much more important to me than six dozen rolls!

In her book, while debunking the myth of motherly control, Jane Clayson Johnson goes on to write, "One of the hardest lessons in mothering is learning to recognize that you are no longer in control. How many times have you started out the day hoping to move one direction, or to arrive at a particular destination, or accomplish just one task, only to make it to the end of the day and discover that you're in the wrong place altogether, miles from where you hoped to be?")

And so it is that I spent yesterday making rolls. Not only did I make 3 dozen rolls, I made 6 dozen rolls. All in an effort to be efficient.