Today I Cut the Crust Off A Sandwich *GASP!*

Today, I cut the crust off a sandwich. It’s one of those things I swore I would never do as a parent. I made it 7-1/2 years which I think is pretty good. Before I became a mom, there were many things I swore I would never do. However, the majority of those had a much shorter shelf life than the bread crust.

Now, for those of you without kids, I KNOW what you are thinking. ‘Cause before I had a kid, I thought the exact. same. thing.

“Why, oh, why would you cut off the crust? That’s just wasting bread. If you cater to your child’s every need and make exceptions for something as simple as bread, then you are gonna raise a spoiled brat. And for goodness sakes, woman! You’ve made it 7-1/2 YEARS. Why would you start now?“

Yep. I get it. I totally get where you are coming from because, when you don’t have kids, bread crust seems stupid and trivial. It seems like it would be a waste of your time and hard earned money. Clearly, this kid has eaten bread crust for 7 years and there is no good reason to start cutting off the crust now. I get it because that’s exactly what went through my head right before I busted out the knife and trimmed that little sandwich to perfection.

When you have kids, you have to pick and choose your battles carefully. If you don’t have kids you probably can’t even comprehend letting your kids get away with some things and not others. I know, because I was from the same school of thought in my pre-parenting years. My husband says I’m the strongest-willed person that he has ever met. But I seriously met my match when tLG was born. That’s the honest truth (and some of God’s sense of humor too)!

You can be the strongest-willed person in the world but I promise, Promise, PROMISE that having a kid will make you crack. First, they wear you down physically. The amount of energy required to keep up with a kid is practically unfathomable. There is no way in the world you could match them step for step. For starters, they awaken at dark-thirty and hit the ground running. By lunchtime, we’ve already used up all of our caffeine and minuscule sleep deposits and are wishing for bedtime or, at the very least, wine o’clock.

In addition to keeping up with this little person, you’ve also got to manage a household or hold down a job. Plus, you’ve got this thing called “Mommy Guilt” that’s basically a brain disease. Every solid second of every single day, including your dream life, is spend worried about the well-being of said child and whether or not you are doing everything in your power to help this kid be healthy, happy, and thriving. As you can see, the second line of attack is mental exhaustion. Before you know it, you are saying “okay, Okay, OKAY!” to the most ludicrous requests just for a few seconds of peace and quiet.

It’s a no-win situation most days. But, as parents, we feel some obligation to raise productive members of society so we pick and choose the battle that might actually matter in 20 years. The rest? As they say… don’t sweat the small stuff.

You want to play in the rain and get filthy in the mud? Be my guest. 

You want to sleep in our room? Go for it. 

You want me to buy you everything you see in the store? Not happening. Go ahead, pitch that fit. Make me look like a crazy woman who can’t control her kid. I’m gonna need an extra glass of wine tonight, by the way.

You want to skip a bath for the 3rd night in a row? Sounds great. 

You want to wear something out of the dirty laundry because it’s your favorite? Knock yourself out. 

You want to hit/kick/spit/sass (___Fill In The Blank___). No way, Jose! You just earned yourself some alone time, kid.

But, food? Yeah, that’s not a battle I’m willing to fight. There have been many times that I’ve asked the question “did she eat enough today to keep herself alive until tomorrow?” And if the answer is “yes” then I move along to more important things. If the answer is “no” we have Summer Dinner. Food fights are not on my priority list.

Side Note: Summer Dinner is essentially popcorn and ice cream with a little fruit on top. Technically, it covers all 5 of the food groups. Don’t try to tell this Summer Lover any different. 

So, today when my kiddo asked for no crust, I balked for a second and started spitting out excuses about wasted bread. Then I remembered her sandwich from yesterday where she had only eaten out the middle section. More bread was wasted than just the crust. My mother’s instinct kicked in and I decided that maybe, just maybe, if I cut off the crust then technically more of the sandwich would get eaten. Ah ha! So, I did. And, you know what? She ate the whole thing. I ate the crust myself and no bread was wasted.

We didn’t get into a power struggle and she thanked me for her accommodating her request. Besides, I don’t know a single adult who eats their sandwiches without the crust so I’m thinking this will be one of those things that doesn’t matter in 20 years.

What’s one thing you swore you would never do as a parent that you ended up doing anyway?