Sticky Buns and Sticky Situations

I am still not completely adjusted to the world of a d u lthood-- I still feel like I should have the accountability of a 17 year old. But I know, now that I am 25 and have a child, husband, and church calling, that I have to step up to the plate and be responsible with what I say, because lets face it, I am not 17.

The older I get, the less confident I get. Fear of failure has kept me from doing a lot of things that I now regret not doing. I didn't try out for volleyball my senior year in high school, because I was afraid of being cut; I am now more ashamed of myself for not even trying. Did I pass the phase where it is okay to fail as long as you tried- or is that phase really non-existent, something teachers tell you so you don't feel bad your a loser. And I feel like there is more pressure to succeed the older we get- not much room for mistakes. But anyone who knows me, knows that I am a walking ad for awkwardness and mistakes. I am constantly putting my foot in my mouth, or not following the recipe, or showing up ten minutes late, or losing my two year old at the zoo. I can usually laugh it off in front of people, but I am haunted by the remorse for the rest of the day, week, month- methodically tearing down any confidence I thought I had. Well, you are probably wondering what all these erratic ramblings (and embarrassing confessions) are about. They're about sticky buns.

Now be prepared for a brief shock- I actually have a reputation for being a half way decent cook here in Pittsburgh--my cinnamon rolls are the stuff legends are made of (apparently I haven't lost all my conceitedness. . .I mean confidence).* So when I was asked to make a batch of sticky buns, I was like, "no prob!" Just so you have all sides of the story, I have never actually made them, it was very late at night, and the recipe said, "mix the pudding with the brown sugar and pour over the rolls." Wouldn't you assume that it meant, make the pudding and pour it over? Apparently it doesn't, and I completely ruined the batch, everyone laughed when they saw it the next day, and I think my pregnant friend almost puked. (even my two sisters laughed when I told them on the phone!!) I was actually able to laugh this one off, since they were all my friends, but I still feel a tremendous amount of embarrassment! And I am really sad I didn't get any sticky buns. So there goes a notch off my cooking reputation, but lets face it, it was over-inflated anyways (the sticky buns were over-inflated also--interesting symbolism). Well, I made great German Pancakes, so I partially redeemed myself, but I don't think Jana is ever going to let this one go.

Apparently I can't be brief, because I am only half way done with my story. Good Grief! As me and my friends were sitting around eating, gabbing, braiding each other's hair, pillow fighting- you know the thing g i rls do when they get together, I said some not so nice things about some probably nice people. I really don't hold anything against the people I talked about, but I was just in a mood. Now I feel the talkers remorse, and I feel it bad. Here is where I need to acknowledge that I am an a d ult, I can really hurt feelings, and other would be guided by my actions (okay, I stole that last line from Emma). This is how things get sticky, especially in a ward, especially since my calling gives me an elevated level of accountability for what I say. One day I will get it all together, when I can make a batch of sticky buns without getting myself into a sticky situation.

*You should be proud Tiff. I learned how to talk up my cinnamon rolls from you!