My mother-in-law told me a story one day. She said she was rushing around, getting kids ready for school, when her oldest (my husband) looked up with his huge green eyes and told her he needed a dozen cookies for the bake sale that afternoon. Oh, what’s a mother to do? She rushed them out the door, stopped at the supermarket, and bought a package of cookies. The guilt plagued her throughout the work day. Sending store-bought cookies instead of homemade had her questioning her abilities as a mother. When she picked the kids up from school she asked, with sinking stomach, how the bake sale went.
“Awful,” came the reply.
It’s my fault. If I’d called in a sick day I could have made the cookies and brought them to the school. My poor child...
Shaking his curl-covered head in disgust he elaborated, “All the store-bought cookies were gone and I had to buy a home-made one.”
It was a lesson she never forgot.
So I slept in this morning. And I slept good, knowing that these chocolate chip muffins waited in the pantry, 99% ready to throw into the oven. As the kids pounded them, I smiled, mentally embracing my shelf full of mixes.