The (s)mothers have organized yet another bake sale for the rabbit's pre-school. Since I can't man the booth the day of the sale because of work I agreed to bake one million cookies again. (The (s)mother are constantly confused about my working since I'm always at home --- it hurts their myoptically-focused brains I think.....)
As I am literally sitting making a grocery list of ingredients (which are quickly adding up to a sizeable donation -- not even including my time....) an email pops in asking parents to individually bag the cookies before bringing them in to the sale.
Now, I know that this is only a little bit more time, and little bit more money for baggies, but this has set me off again. (I'm still reeling from the last bake sale where they stole my tins -- WHO STEALS TINS?!?!?!?!?)
So I call The Prince for some whining support and he listens, pauses, and says, "Just don't do it."
So why can't I follow this advice? (Other than the fact that it shows a complete ignorance of (s)mother tactics 101?) Because I still believe I can be super mom! Here she is, flying home from work, whipping up dinner with one hand, baking cookies with the other. Able to get stains out in a single flash, able to exercise at 4 am on 5 hours of sleep to stay trim! (Okay, I'm making myself sick.)
I've always been competitive. Even when I six-years-old and trying to eat more marshmellows than my sister at a birthday party contest. (I won, not knowing it would kick off a rather gross marshmellow addiction still to this day....)
So what will I be doing tonight? Yep. Baking cookies, and muttering as I stuff them into their plastic freakin' baggies:
Butter, sugar, flour, trouble
Oven fire, tempers bubble*
(*sincerest apologies to Shakespeare for this rather vulgar mimicry...)