Let me tell you about the time I lost my Jesus over green bean casserole.
FJ goes to the sweetest little preschool. It’s the kind of place that makes you want to actually put lipstick on before you go in to pick your kid up…simply because everyone that works there is the cutest, sweetest, most put-together group of people ever. Some days I have to put on the extra coat I keep in my car because I realize, as I’m pulling into the parking lot to get my kid, that I have forgotten to put a bra on. You get it. it’s like the cutest preschool ever and I am a holy mess. I digress.
Anyway…I go to pick Finley up a few weeks ago, and I see a sign-up sheet for parents to contribute Thanksgiving sides for the “Tiny Taste.” -a mini Thanksgiving feast for the kids to enjoy during snack time. Awesome. SO adorbs.
Mashed potatoes, rolls, pumpkin pie…I scan the list. GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE. I know for a fact that I have all the ingredients for that in my pantry and it doesn't matter that the “Tiny Taste” is two weeks away…because everything in green bean casserole is canned and processed and and pre-packaged. Boom. My John Hancock goes on the line.
So the night before this little feast comes. I throw together the casserole in a disposable pan, without really giving it much thought. I put it in the fridge and go to bed. Wake up the day of about a half hour later than I planned, and put it in the oven. I hurry to get Finley ready and fed, get myself dressed for a doctors appointment later that morning, and take the casserole out of the oven just in time to leave.
Here's where the excessive sweating begins...
We walk into the preschool classroom and as FJ is hanging up her backpack, I notice like twenty crockpots plugged in near the teacher’s desk. My armpits are now soaked.
WHY DID I BAKE THE CASSEROLE IN A PAN?!
WHY IN THE NAME OF PETE DID I NOT THROW THAT CRAP IN A CROCK POT?!
IT’S GOING TO GET SO COLD BY THE TIME THE TINY TASTE STARTS!!
ALL THESE OTHER MOMS HAVE COMMON SENSE AND KNOW HOW TO DO ALL THE THINGS BETTER THAN ME AND ARE GOING TO QUESTION MY COMPETENCE.
Suddenly I am thinking mean and terrible thoughts about everyone and everything:
WHO NAMED IT THE TINY TASTE ANYWAY? THIS IS STUPID! WHY DID I VOLUNTEER TO HELP? I DON'T EVEN LIKE CRAPPY GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE!
Visions of Thanksgiving carnage dance in my head.
I am spiraling...
Just when I’m considering making yet another trip home for my crockpot…I hear this voice in my head. I’d like to think it was God…but I don’t know if the Big Guy Upstairs would ever say this: “Dude. Get your poop in a group. This is not a big deal. Go to your appointment.” So I drag my type A, people-pleasing, perfectionist, neurotic butt to my car and leave, feeling super defeated.
Fast-forward to pick-up. I walk into the classroom only to be greeted by Finley’s teacher saying “Oh the kids only ate a spoonful of each dish so you have over half your pan of casserole leftover.” Go figure. All that inner turmoil and the little ankle biters each got a spoonful of my cold casserole.
And when I asked Finley what her favorite part of Tiny Taste was…she replied “Your green bean stuff was awesome, mom. That was my favorite.”
Moral of the story? I nearly went postal over a dang green bean casserole for a bunch of four year olds. These are people that eat their own boogers and chicken nuggets off the floor of their moms’ mini vans. My brain fart did not matter. What did matter was that my kid saw me try. She saw me go the extra mile and do something just slightly above and beyond for her and her little friends. It took no time at all and it turned out fine.
I can tell you this, though: next time Big Mama is definitely signing up to bring plastic forks.