A few weeks ago I completely forgot about a birthday party for one of my daughters best friends.
Ok. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. I completely forgot about it until five minutes before it began.
Which normally wouldn’t be a problem. Except that this time the party was 30 minutes away, and I hadn’t bought a gift, and I was on my way to the farmers market on the completely opposite side of town to buy pumpkins.
So best case scenario my sweet daughter was going to be that kid who comes 40 minutes late to a birthday party with a half-a$$ed present of old tube socks wrapped in a recycled-multiple-times gift bag stuffed with old crumpled tissue paper. Worst case scenario she would miss it completely.
And the real case scenario: A very dramatic event featuring me, in all of my panicked glory, wracked with guilt and shame over my inability to remember a birthday party that was clearly marked on the calendar running into the farmers market in tears (yes, this happened), grabbing the first non-vegetable thing I could find, throwing money at the poor bath bomb salesman, driving home like a maniac with yet more tears streaming down her face, dropping it in a bag and screaming at her completely bewildered husband to drive said daughter to the party so momma could get her you-know-what together with a box of tissues and a shot of vodka.**
Friends: This is a 100% true story. I have witnesses who will attest to it (which I’m sure the bath bomb salesman will do once he stops threatening me with litigation).
I quite literally lost my mind over almost missing a birthday party.
Immediately upon realizing my mistake my mind went into a negative thought spiral so fast and so devastating that it would take a miracle of a mother’s love (my mothers, by the way) and a husbands hug to bring me out. The guilt of making a mistake just about wrecked me. One simple thing, one small slip-up, shined a spotlight on all of my perceived weaknesses, my vulnerabilities, my mistakes and my failures. It slapped me in the face with those silent killers, my thoughts.
“Of course you missed it, you always forget things.”
“What a failure. You can’t even get a calendar straight.”
“Great, now your daughter is suffering because you’re such a mess up.”
“No other mother forgets a birthday party. You’ll be the only one.”
Oh how my mind can be the meanest bully in the room.
This is MOM GUILT 101, friends.
And now that I’ve recovered from my temporary loss of sanity and self-control (sorry for all the cursing, everybody), I can see it for what it is. A vicious attack of Mom Guilt. And I know I’m not the only one who’s ever traveled down this path.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
I love my husband dearly. He is a great Dad. But never EVER in his 11 years of parenting have I witnessed him go into a tailspin because he made a mistake. Never has he allowed one parenting fail derail his sense of self. Never has he thought “I am a terrible father because I missed that baseball game.”
But moms, we all do it. ALL. THE. TIME.
There is a reason why #momfail has over 195k posts on Instagram. (#dadfail has just 13k, by the way.)
Sure, my example is extreme and, if I’m being honest, ridiculous. But mom guilt exists on the daily for most of us, it just might look a little different (and hopefully a lot less insane.
Most Mom Guilt looks like blaming our child’s social shortcomings and struggles on parenting mistakes we made in their early years. It takes the form of overcompensating for missing pajama day at school with a trip to get ice cream at pick up. It looks like the working mom who can’t always be there putting on a hard exterior of superiority, pretending to look down on the stay at home mom who is always at school. (both of whom are sporting some serious guilt, all tied up in knots over something in their hearts). It shows up in our souls more than we care to admit and always, ALWAYS, sounds a little bit like:
I am not enough unless I do enough and I do enough perfectly.
This thought, friends, it can take us down faster than almost anything else out there. It levels us.
Why?
Because it’s so close to our hearts. Our kids, those little buggers, they are our hearts in person. In flesh and blood. They have feet and arms and mouths. They have personalities and likes and dislikes. But make no mistake. They are our hearts.
And we want to protect our hearts at all costs. If I had to describe my parenting on most days I would describe it as “flintstone feet.” Constantly striving to be enough, do enough, love enough. To give my kids my entire heart. Because they are my entire heart.
But when I’m striving so hard to be enough I’m missing the simple point that I am enough already. Messy, imperfect me. I am enough. My kids, they love me. They want me. They don’t want perfection. They don’t want or need my Flintstone Feet, they need me. They need arms open wide for hugs each day. Hands to wipe tears away. A heart that loves fiercely and openly, a heart not afraid to say sorry and I love you on repeat, as much as necessary. A heart built just to love them, each and every day. 
We (meaning: me) need to let this thought extinguish our guilt. Flinstone Feeting for perfection is a losing game our kids never invited us to play. Somewhere along the way we forgot how God made us to be mothers. He didn’t make us to be perfect. He is perfect. Our love, in Him, is enough. Guilt, like fear, is a liar.
We need to remind ourselves of the truth every single time we are pushed to tears by a mistake, pulled into self-doubt by a fail or dragged into a pit of shame because we just can’t make every single event at school.
The truth is that love is bigger than guilt and we are enough.
Now go needlepoint that on a pillow or tatoo it on your wrist and let’s bring love back in style. Mom guilt is so last year.
Also, you wanna know what? Guess who wasn’t upset about being 40 minutes late to the party? My daughter. The one person I was afraid of hurting. Never hurt for a second.
The recipe I’m sharing with you today, friends, is about as anti-mom guilt as it can be. Mainly because it’s something you only make if you have kids. Or are a kid at heart. Because alphabet soup, well, it’s just awesomely child-like. It’s smile food. It’s nostalgia. It’s old school food. And it’s totally awesome. It’s also my daughter’s favorite. So maybe that’s why I felt it appropriate to share now.
You can honestly use any pasta you want and it will still be tasty. But let’s face it, everyone gets excited when they spell out a word with their food so even adults can love it. Usually alphabet pasta can be found near the Goya in the ethnic aisle of the grocery store if you can’t find it in the pasta aisle. I usually make the meatballs tiny, using just about a teaspoon each. For pictures, I used more, but it’s more fun when they are miniature. I recommend cooking the pasta separate so you can freeze any leftover meatballs and broth you may have. And the parmesan rind is totally optional but makes a big difference. I have a bag of these babies in the freezer (just save when you reach the hard part of a block) and throw them in soups and stews. It adds a richness you cannot get mad at.
Either way, make this soup for your kiddos. Heck, make it for yourself. It will remind you how much you love your very own imperfect mom.
Peace, love and guilt-free love,
Meg
**I didn’t actually take a shot of vodka, people. It was 10:00am. But I did actually think about it. So there’s that.
Alphabet Soup with Mini Turkey Meatballs
Ingredients
- 1 onion, finely diced
- 2 carrots, peeled and diced
- 3 cloves of garlic, minced
- 4 cups chicken broth
- 2 14 ounce cans diced tomatoes
- 1 pound ground turkey
- 1/2 cup pesto (store bought or if you're really fancy, homemade)
- 1/2 cup panko bread crumbs
- 1 cup alphabet pasta
- 1 Parmesan Cheese Rind (optional)
Directions
- Step 1 Heat a healthy drizzle of olive oil in a large pot over medium heat.
- Step 2 Add carrots and onion. Cook, stirring often, until slightly softened.
- Step 3 Add garlic and cook, 30 minutes or so, stirring continuously until fragrant.
- Step 4 Add broth and tomatoes. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to a simmer and cook, 10 minutes or so until vegetables are tender.
- Step 5 Meanwhile, in a large bowl combine turkey, pesto and bread crumbs. Season with salt and pepper. Pinch roughly a teaspoon of mixture off and roll into meatballs. Set aside.
- Step 6 Bring a second pot of water to boil and cook pasta according to package directions. Drain and set aside.
- Step 7 Using a hand blender (or a regular stand blender) blend soup until smooth.
- Step 8 Add in meatballs and Parmesan rind and cook, raising heat to medium, for about 15 minutes or until cooked through.
- Step 9 To serve, add pasta to a bowl and ladle soup over.
- Step 10 Top with shredded parmesan.
Welcome to BurntToast! My name is Meaghan, and this is my safe space, a place where we can share stories, share recipes and share life. It’s my dream that you can come here, kick your shoes off and pour yourself a glass of wine while you read, laugh, and maybe even hop into the kitchen. This is my heart, for all of you to see. And ALL are welcome here.