Pancakes made me cry

It was Saturday morning, and I had woken up early. I decided that I wanted to surprise hubs and make pancakes for breakfast since we never have them.  I don't know what came over me that day, but I wanted to venture out of my comfort zone and make it from scratch--which I never do!  So, I got dressed and ran to the store while hubs was still sleeping, and I got the ingredients that I needed to make pancakes.  

When I got home hubs was already awake, and he saw the sack from the store, and he started questioning what I was doing.  I told him I was going to make pancackes, and he asked why I didn't buy the mix that was already made.  I didn't tell him, but I was annoyed.  Why couldn't he just understand that I was putting myself out of my comfort zone just to surprise him!?!?  On a Saturday! I'm no Betty Crocker by any means, but at least I was wanting to try, and if I were to be honest--I have this underlying fear.  

I'm afraid I won't be a good enough mother.

There. I said it. 

I want to be the mom that makes a wonderful breakfast for her children on Saturday mornings.  One that can cook almost anything.  Especially pancakes. What child doesn't love pancakes.  Surely if I could master pancakes, my children will love me. Right?  

Well, I guess my logic was that if I started practicing now, I could master cooking by the end of our foster care licensing process.  Crazy?  Maybe.  But, I can be a high achiever.

So, I started making the batter for the pancakes and realized that it was runny.  I was confused. I followed that recipe word for word.  I've seen pancake batter before, and it shouldn't be that runny. I started freaking out.  I couldn't understand what had gone wrong.  Determined to make those darn homemade pancakes for my husband, I started pouring the batter in the pan.  I watched, with tears in my eyes, as the batter started to bubble.  I knew it would be time to flip the pancake soon, so I turned around to get the spatula.  As I turned around, I saw hubs adding flour to my batter.  I asked him what he was doing, and he said, "I'm trying to fix it."  Anger began to build inside me.  

All I wanted was to surprise him.  I didn't want him to "fix" my problem.  I wanted him to accept my gesture. I was trying to be a good wife.  I was practicing to be a good mom, but it just wasn't good enough. 

I wasn't good enough.

When I grabbed the spatula from the drawer and went to flip the pancake, hubs spoke up and said, "what are you doing, it's not ready." Those words were like a huge dagger to my heart.  Tears began to flow down my face.  I dropped the spatula on the cabinet and ran to the bedroom.  I couldn't keep it in any longer. 

I felt like such a failure.  I couldn't even surprise my husband with pancakes.  "How will I ever be a good mom," I thought.  

And just like that, I questioned my self worth.

Will I ever be the wife I want to be?  Will I be a good mom?  All sorts of questions ran through my mind. 

I know it sounds stupid, but I've been struggling with all sorts of things lately.  I guess that's part of this whole foster care thing.  The classes, the homework, and the home visits make me wonder how I'll respond to situations, whether or not that mothering instinct will kick in, and if so--when? 

I know I'm a girl, and we're naturally emotional, but lately it's little things that get me.  Maybe it's the extra hormones I have flowing through my body--Thank you, Clomid!  But, like I said, it's the little things that get me...

Like pancakes.

Who knew pancakes could make me cry!?!?