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Why some promises are meant to be broken… and that’s okay

I am not sure why I picked this topic or what was going through my mind when I decided to put it in my list, but I am sure this is not going to be one of my best anecdotes.

Throughout my childhood it was obvious that keeping your word played a significant part in my upbringing. To promise something was a sacred vow never thought to be trifled with.

Promises were to be kept not broken, which is why I am unmistakably confused as to why I might have chosen this topic. It was uncommon for my mother to break promises or her word when it came to me. When she did, even the most minor of agreements, I could feel her sorrow as if she had let me or herself down causing everything to fall to the wayside.

I think there were only two instances that I distinctly remember where a deliberate promise was broken by my mother…compared to the countless assurances from my father.

The Case of Ole' Yeller

First was when I was very little maybe two or three, my little chubby round existence, unaware of the constant weight and pressure put on my mom, day in and day out. This took a toll on our early relationship…in the way of screaming battles, time out chairs and slamming doors. Through the tears rolling down my angry scrunched face I couldn’t comprehend why this was always happening.

Finally after an epic battle I used my adorable charm to get my mom to promise that she would, from then on, never yell at me again. Although I am not sure why my mom agreed, I thought myself as a two-year old mastermind, due to the fact that my mother NEVER broke a promise. And oh was I sadly mistaken! Maybe only two days later… a similar scene played out.

Flabbergasted by the very thought that my mother “lied” to me, I was sure that I would never trust her again.

Needless to say, just looking at the history of our relationship and this project, that didn’t last for very long.

Let Them bake cakes!

The other instance, again using the charming powers of persuasion, was when my mother and I were at Barnes & Noble a bookstore near our house.

I scanned the isles looking for something interesting to look at when I came across a lilac bordered, hard cover book that might have weighed half my weight at the time, covered in pictures of cakes -- wonderful colorful cakes of all shapes and sizes, cakes with fruit filling, with animals on them, cakes that sparkled. Almost every kind of cake imaginable and the book was on sale…it was surely meant to be.

All I could think of was my mom and I in our kitchen cooking up a storm. I begged her to get the book and bake a cake from there with me…and she promised. I was overflowing with joy…constantly flipping through its cake-filled pages, hoping to find the perfect one for the day we made that cake. Unfortunately, that day didn’t come, the book collected dust on the shelves of our house, occasionally opened to reminisce over its decorated pages.

I might sound like a spoiled brat whining because I couldn’t make a cake, but I think it was more than that. I wanted something that only my mom and I had…something we could share and love together. After my sister’s birth and my mom’s promotions, I would still inadvertently find the book with the lilac boarder and look through its pages.

I don’t blame my mom in any way for the fact that we never made a cake from the book because…life happens when you’re busy making plans. Our relationship has become stronger and stronger each day, without that cake and I am definitely thankful for that!

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