I Forgot the Turkey Pepperoni (and Other Mortal Sins of Marriage)

The past weekend was my husband’s birthday. I always try to make birthdays special. My family went camping and spent time together. It was perfect. I asked my hubby what he wanted for his birthday dinner. We could either go out to eat or stay home and I could cook. Being the (sorta) healthy people that we are, he chose to stay home and have my fabulous homemade pizza. I don’t mean to brag, but my pizza literally puts the awesome in awesomesauce. So, I was pretty psyched to not only make it, but to eat it. Um, yum!

I went to the store and gathered all of my ingredients. I waited for the special day. I started prepping early because i wanted to make sure that we had time to enjoy all of the yummy goodness. Also, my hubby requested chocolate pizza for dessert (I told you we were healthy) and I needed time to digest before indulging a second time.

Love…check!

Dough…check!

Mushrooms…check!

Green peppers…check!

Turkey pepperoni…what? No!

How on earth can I go to the store to get the ingredients to make pizza and forget the one meat that makes a pizza a pizza. To make matters worse, this is a special pepperoni and, of course, there are only certain meats that my hubby can eat due to certain issues that I’m sure he would rather I not discuss and, of course, it is only available at one store in our area and, of course, that store is now closed.

It is at these points in life that we can either choose to roll with it or to have a mini freak out over our mistakes and imperfections. Unfortunately, I often fall on the mini freak out side of things. If my husband were the one to forget the pepperoni, I would have NO problem rolling with the punches. But because it was me who forgot the pepperoni, suddenly I take up arms against myself in revolt of my ignorance. I must pay the price! For what? No turkey pepperoni! Hunt her down! Make her pay!

i-can-t-keep-calm-because-there-s-no-pepperoni

It reminds me of when I was little and I would grab my friend’s hand and hit them repeatedly while gleefully asking the age-old question – “Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?” Only now, I’m the the one hitting my own self. And I seriously cannot answer that question – Why am I hitting myself??

Maybe I was born this way. Maybe my parents pushed me too hard as a child. Maybe I saw too many people not try hard enough and make complete messes of their lives. Maybe it is all of these things or none of these things. It doesn’t actually matter where it came from. The point is that it is not healthy to beat myself up over little things that I can’t change.

Unfortunately, as much as I would like to deny it, I start far too many of these little wars within myself for no good reason. Inner civil wars. Personal revolts. One-woman world wars. Seriously, if I typed out all of the instances that I have turned on myself, the list would be far too long and embarrassing. I will spare you and myself the details.

It is important to note that my husband (the one whose opinion really mattered in this instance) had no problems with the fact that I forgot the turkey pepperoni. We simply looked through the trusty fridge and freezer and found some sun-dried tomato chicken sausage. I cut it up, sautéed it, and added it to the pizza. It was good. My husband liked it. I liked it. It could possibly go into a rotation of pizza toppings. It was that good.

My affirmation for the day will be that I will not freak out over the little things, the lack of pepperonis, the trail of dirt that always magically appears right after I mop, the clothes hurricane that always seems to hit my son’s room right after I clean, the five bottles of red wine that fell from the top shelf and busted all over the white walls in an artistic rendering I like to call “Murder?”, the great flood caused by the needy washing machine begging for more attention, the trails of poo my puppy lovingly leaves as little presents for me throughout my house, and the list could go on and on.

Am I going to look back and remember the “No Turkey Pepperoni of 2014” event? Heck, no!

Spend your time and your thoughts on the things that matter.

Are there times that you let the little things completely get the best of you?

Show yourself some grace!

– Crystal

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23 thoughts on “I Forgot the Turkey Pepperoni (and Other Mortal Sins of Marriage)

  1. Great story and point. I also love the title. I also beat myself up for everything that goes wrong that I have the tiniest role in. It doesn’t matter if it is 100% my fault or. 01% mu fault. I replay the incident over and over. I constantly tell myself “This wouldn’t be if you didn’t…” I will think about this story whenever I am faced with a Pepperoni Problem. Thanks for the post!

  2. I loved your post. I can totally relate. When my oldest daughter went away to college for the first time, she spent her first birthday away from me. I decided to send her some Cheryl’s cookies, but the agent on the phone could not find post office validation for her dorm address. I burst out in tears and hysteria, explaining to a total stranger why I so desperately needed to send this care package. You freak out because you love your husband and family and want the best for them.

  3. Crystalgoodhall,

    I’m writing to let you know that I have nominated you for the Liebster award! I don’t know if you know about nominations/awards, etc. but it’s a way for bloggers to show their appreciation to other bloggers. It is also a way for potential readers to find out about your blog, and the blogs of people you may choose to nominate.

    You can get more information about your nomination and the Liebster award process at http://livinglearningandlettinggo.wordpress.com/2014/04/24/thanks-for-the-liebster-award/

  4. Pingback: Do You Need a Laugh? | Living, Learning and Letting Go

  5. I too am constantly beating myself up over everyday trivial things! I try to stop and ask myself if “it” will matter in 4 or 10 years, and most times that answer is NO but I still continue to feel guilty! Is it just a female thing, or do men suffer from it too?

  6. hah! I admire how self aware you are. My partner has started calling my mini-freakouts: Needless Obstacle Courses or NOCs. He’ll actually knock on the wall or counter when he sees one coming. It used to tick me off, but now it makes me laugh. I’m glad to know I’m in good company.

    • My personality is such that I am often painfully self aware. It can be a good thing, but it can also be really annoying at times. I like that you call your freak outs NOCs. I sometimes refer to them as 911s, emergencies that aren’t actually emergencies. It is great that you have somebody to hold you accountable.

  7. We have a common ingredient in our pizza making: “love”. And it’s the one that makes the pizza taste wonderful. It’s also great in cookies and scrambled eggs.

  8. Aah I think this is a ‘female/mom/perfect-creatures’ trait that we just can’t bypass. I freaked out bad when I almost lost my luggage last month after a tiresome 24 hours flight, alone with two young kids. So usually we are the ONLY ones kicking our butts (I think if you try hard enough it’s physically possible). Like you so eloquently explained, filter out all the extraneous noise and spend time on the things that matter:).

    btw; If it’s not a trade secret, mind sharing that Pizza recipe of yours:)?? My mouth was watering just reading about that awesomesauce!

  9. Pingback: my forthcoming Pigeon-Plucking Business | the relative cartographer

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