Burnt Toast

Pamela Reddy is the proud mother of 15-month-old Luke and wife to Jason from central Illinois. She has the privilege of being a SAHM and is constantly perfecting her role as “domestic goddess.”

Nine months after my son had been born, I found myself crying uncontrollably to my best friend – spilling my guts in an obnoxious display of snot and tears. I hadn’t eaten a hot meal, slept for more than a few hours at a time, or even showered every day in months. I constantly felt guilty if I left my child for even an hour while I did the grocery shopping. I had put my son and husband first and totally neglected myself since the day I had given birth. Teri Hatcher (yes, I’m referencing a desperate housewife) wrote a book called, “Burnt Toast.” The premise of the book is that women give the perfect pieces of toast to our husbands and children, and we take the burnt piece that’s left over. What a metaphor! When I realized that I had been eating nothing but burnt toast for nine months, THAT was the moment I felt like a mother. After reflecting on my childhood, I vividly remember my mother doing it, my grandmother doing it, my aunts doing it. It is our jobs as mothers to put our family before ourselves, and we eat the burnt toast without thinking twice. Don’t get me wrong – I will continue to eat burnt toast until the day I die, but I have made a solemn vow to myself to also take a couple of hours a week to get a pedicure or take a hot bubble bath.

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May 16, 2010. Guest post, Motherhood.

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