“There is no way to be a perfect mother, and a million ways to be a good one”
The girls had decided they were going to cook me breakfast for Mother’s Day. B-man wasn’t home so he was off the hook on having to help (I told you he was the smart one). They “warned” me of it the night before, telling me that I couldn’t get up until they called me.
I warned them that we don’t sleep until noon.
I was a little reluctant to be handing my kitchen over to the inexperienced hands of my daughters, but I didn’t want to rain on their parade. Besides, they were actually going to do something together. How could I justify interfering when I’d just been bitching about how they hate each other?
Before going to bed on Saturday night, I nervously gave a brief tutorial on how to use the waffle iron. My new waffle iron. My clean and shiny and I-luffs-you waffle iron. Then we checked the batteries in the smoke detector (what? we have faith. We’re just cautious with it. Shush.) and went to bed.
Sunday morning, bright and fucking early (6:30am. Maybe I should have qualified the “we dont sleep til noon” with a “we also don’t get up before the sun on weekends”?), we were awakened by the clatter of pans and banging of cupboard doors.
For quite awhile, Master and I just lay there and listened. I couldn’t hear what the girls were saying to each other, only the low murmur of their voices. Then the shrill rise when they’d start to snap at each other, followed by footsteps stomping away and then stomping back, and then the low murmur again.
We giggled. Me and Master. We are teh evils.
They were cooking for a long LONG time. We were beginning to get the shakes from lack of coffee. One of us was going to have to make a coffee run or we were gonna die. The idea that one of would have to go was cemented when I heard the exhaust fan kick in over the stove and one of the girls give a hacking cough.
“That doesn’t sound good.” I said.
“I should go out there.” He replied.
I nodded and pushed him out of bed. (Well. It was Mother’s Day– not Master’s Day!)
He left and I settled into the pillows in his warm spot with my book. (I miss Harry. *sniffle*) After several more minutes of pan-clanging and the drifting smell of waffles, I cautiously crept to the bedroom door and eased it open a crack.
A crack gives me a tiny slice of the view into the kitchen.
That was enough.
The exhaust fan was blowing on high. The sliding door was flung open and cold air was blowing in (It snowed here on Saturday. S N O W E D. It’s MAY, ffs!). Smoke was billowing through the air. I could see the garbage can overflowing (literally things were falling onto the floor) with the remnants of several burnt and/or undercooked waffle-y shaped things. The girls were hollering back and forth at each other and running around and Master was standing at the end of the hallway, hands on his hips, watching them with a big ol’ shit-eating grin on his face.
Maybe he heard my “Oh my fucking God” whisper or maybe he sensed the dismay in the air because he whipped around, caught sight of my face in the door crack, pointed his finger and sternly said “You. Out.”
So I shut the door and crawled back in bed to see if I could find my happy place.
(No, not THAT happy place. Pervs. It was Mother’s Day, not Masturbation Day!)
I was a’scairt. My kitchen! My waffle iron! And I was hungry! And I needed coffee. Lots of coffee. And somehow, I was going to have to walk through the mess and smile and not look at it and not do anything but be light and happy and eat my breakfast.
It was a little while after that that I was allowed to come out. The table was set, piled high with waffles and pancakes, toast and fried eggs. Bananas, milk, OJ. And coffee.
We ate- with the sliding door open and our eyes burning and watering from the smoke that hung heavily in the air. The food was cold and greasy but the coffee was hot and the girls were so fucking pleased with themselves that nothing else mattered.
They’d even turned on my light rock station that plays love songs all day long, something they can’t stand to listen to.
“Look Mom. We didn’t even kill each other.” Am said, proudly.
“We came close.” Jes added.
“I made the pancakes!” Am said hotly.
“Yeah, when you remembered they were cooking!” Jes retorted.
“So what made the smoke?” I asked, interrupting them before blood was spilled.
“We don’t know. It was just… there… all of a sudden.”
I wish now that I’d have thought to take pictures so I could show you the extreme mess that littered the kitchen counters. It was almost cute how destroyed it was. And my waffle iron! I don’t know if they just dipped the whole thing in batter or what but it was *covered*. There were blobs of batter everywhere, counters, floor, stove, sink, down the cabinet doors. One entire box of pancake mix, one dozen eggs- and some of it even made it to the table!
And their pleased, smiling faces. They were so proud of themselves, it tickled me pink.
I grinned at them and sat back, belly stuffed. The mess, the smoke, the rather chilly breakfast weather– I could not have asked for a better morning. Srsly. It was the bestest Mother’s Day in the history of ever. Lots of hugs and thank yous went on after we ate.
Later, after the girls helped me clean up, Master took me to the store where he made me pick out two outfits. (I hate clothes shopping. For real.) He bought me a skirt and a cute top and a pair of capris and another cute top. Now if it’ll just get warm enough to wear them!
Then he bought me an outdoor patio set, table and six chairs, so we can all sit outside and eat and stuffs.
You know, should it ever get warm enough to actually go outside.
Because it’s the fucking arctic circle up in here! What the hell! Snow. In MAY.
Argh.
AND! Master got two blow jobs. Count ‘em. T W O. On Mother’s Day! I got nuttin’! I guess every day is Master’s Day. :)
~cunt
I hope all of you mothers out there had a glorious Mother’s Day!
LikeTags: am, humor, jes, mothers day
Uncategorized | kaya | 
Monday May 11th, 2009 8:50am
How is it they got that old and don’t know how to make breakfast? That seems so strange to me.
I’m glad they got together to do something nice for you, and I hope you didn’t have to clean it all up!
;)
Because… I’ve always done it.
They helped with the clean-up. :)
Glad to hear that you had a nice Mother’s Day.
i hear you on the wishing it would warm up. It was so nice there for a couple of weeks.
Maybe if you ask real purty like S will take some photos of you in your new outfits lounging at your new patio set to post for us.
As to the girls not knowing how to do meals. Perhaps making meal preparation time one of those one on one things or even a family time where all the kids help to get dinner ready in some way. It may also help with the co-operation, communication and getting along things you have been dealing with. And hopefully S has a very strong stomach until the cooking lessons progress to the point of edible.
Hugs
jewel`
I am sure he’d take pictures. :)
(I’m going to respond to your email when I have a little more time. I’ve used all my time up here already.)
They need to learn to cook. Seriously, *now*. :? I’m actually shocked. They’re HOW old? I know you coddle them but… jebbus, Mother coddled us and we were both making food by the time I was 15. Simple pasta and sause, but… still…
I’m here to teach them how to cook if they want to learn. They don’t want to. I don’t see any purpose in forcing it. It wouldn’t have worked on me when I was a teen, I learned when I wanted to know how. *shrug*
And seriously, them not knowing how to cook is the very least of my worries. Besides, they can cook the basic stuff that they like. Waffles just isn’t one of those things. :)
I usually get you. But this time… I just don’t.
I likes you anyway, though.
Well.. that’ll happen from time to time.
Hey!, I posted a pic for you over on my LJ account. Take a look whe you have time. My youngest is 21 and while he can cook reasonably well, the kitchen post-cooking and prior to cleanup is something to behold.
I’m truly glad you had a great Mother’s Day.
Also a blow-job per new outfit is a pretty good deal.
A blow job per outfit. I didn’t think of that way. Now I don’t feel so put out. :P
If it’s one per outfit then you’ll never be hurting for clothes! Maybe i can talk Sir into that deal for shoes…….
I have been reading your blog for a few weeks now and I really enjoy it. You make me laugh. I chuckled throughout your entire post because I know exactly where you are coming from. I have had a few Mother’s Day “gifts” just like this one. Funny stuff.
And I completely agree with you about not forcing your teens to learn how to cook with you. I HATED cooking when I was a teen and refused to learn with my mother. Now, I love it, but I did it on my own terms. My mom and I had plenty of other things to bond over, cooking was not one of them. The same holds true for my 18 year old, she has never shown an interest in cooking and I have never forced her to learn. She will figure it out when she is on her own and needs to eat. However my son is a different story, he is 13 years old and has always loved to cook! He is in the kitchen with me all the time and loves to help me do the grocery shopping.
Kaya,
That’s so sweet. It’s things like this that will teach them to get along, one way or the other (or to put each other in the hospital ;) ).
I learned to cook after the divorse. It was that, or suffer with my dad’s idea of cooking. Survival is a powerful motivator. For the life of me, I can’t understand how that man could cook perfectly over a camp fire and mess things up so badly on a stove.
Dave
This post made me smile. I was also a bit puzzled over the whole cooking thing, but I remembered after a moment that I was the same way. my parents tried so hard to teach me to cook starting when I was 9 or 10 and I learned a few basic things, but would whine about it. So they gave up. And when I went through my vegetarian stint in high school and they wouldn’t cater to my eating habits….well, I learned to cook. LOL Luckily, for my husband I started eating meat again and can cook that too! Glad you had a cool Mother’s Day ^_^
So there are several that say they don’t get your girls not knowing how to cook. I will say I grew up with a Mom that is known for her cooking and when I left her house to be on my own I called her almost every night to ask how to make such and such before getting a Betty Crocker cookbook. It was her kitchen and she just didn’t have the patience to teach us (my sisters and I) to cook. People now say, “oh you are good cook because of your Mom and Grandma” and I just smile and nod politely but really I taught myself.
I agree with not forcing it. One day they will be probably like I was needing to cook and not knowing how. Hand them Betty Crocker cookbook. :)
She’s right the first cookbook should Betty Crocker, great all around classic.
This made me smile and remember the days when the kids still lived with us and I had to wait forever in bed, it seemed, for anything to eat/drink that morning. Glad you had such a good day. :)
I’m glad you had a good mother’s day! I worried about it yesterday. (Yes, I fret over my net friends’ lives, shaddup).
As far as teaching the girls how to cook…I never wanted to learn either. Then I moved out and ate a lot of fast food, and a lot of hamburger helper. It’s taken a lot, A LOT, of effort to teach myself to cook healthier and eat better. It’s taken me even longer to be able to cook without an explicit recipe.
I let my kid into the kitchen for bonding time. He and I have been cooking together since he was 2 – it’s just now he’s much more interested in slamming potatoes with a butter knife than actually working…but he’s a great taste-tester!
Dear Kaya,
thank you – that was sooooo funny. We had the same, with a 7 and an 11 year old – terribly hungry in bed for ages, breakfast in bed, actually, with the kids jumping round us, obviously, spreading chocolate everywhere, with cold tea, and our backs aching, and soooo hungry. And no sex – because the younger came in every minute to ask what jam out of a list of 100 or what tea out of a list of 50 we wanted, how many eggs, what fruit…. PLLLLEEEEAAAASSSEEEE no more mother’s days!
Hmmmm, I must be doing something wrong because I didn’t get any blowjobs on Mother’s Day! ;-)
Wonderful to read your blogs..something always strikes a nerve…glad you had a thoughtful mother’s day..and teaching kids to cook? when they get hungry enough they will do it!
No pictures needed! I have three girls..so I had a great visual.
Glad you had a fun day.
Kaya, this story is adorable.
So if your master got two blowjobs on Mother’s day, what happens on Father’s day?
We need Jes belly pictures, since she’s gonna be a mommy too. Pics, woman!
Word!
LOL…lol…gotta love them crazy youngens..Glad you had a wonderful mothers day.
That’s adorable.
And yay for Master’s day :)
That was sweet of them!
Snow in May? Yuck! But I would trade you, we are close to hitting 100.
What a riot! I had a mothers day similar to that once. My daughter and her cousin decided to make a pie … from scratch .. for us moms. Did I say that they were only 12 years old each and had NO IDEA what they were doing? And with a lack of any “fruit” they climbed the mullberry tree. I don’t even think they followed ANY type of receipe. We had to take a walk to eat our pie (we live in the middle of BFE for gawd’s sake) so that the bites could disappear slowly .. when they weren’t looking! Mmmm .. imagine heavy salty mullberry pie …. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it. You know, the kind of watering you do right before you hurl!
~His lil beast~
I believe the best present a mother can be given on Mother’s Day, is for the master of the household, to put her over his knee’s, raise her dress waist high, pull down her panties, and wallop her bare bottom blushing red.