So then…I’m literally so excited about this lasagna I’m making, I text a photo to show the family how amazing dinner’s going to be!
LOOK! Warm and delicious homemade food! Yahoo!
Everyone has a generous helping and agrees it’s scrumptious — and I’m even more excited that we’ll have leftovers for the next night! Double Yahoo! No cooking! Just heating up! I’m a fabulous heater-upper!
So the next night, I’m in my home office when my daughter Chloe, age 15, texts me from the dining room to ask, “Will you please rub my back while I’m doing homework?”
Now before you accuse me of potentially spoiling my daughter, I can assure you, she’s ALREADY spoiled! That train left the station a long time ago, my friends. As I’ve mentioned, I’d be a much better mother if I had 6 kids like my pal, but I only have 2, so I spoil them 3 times as much.
Besides, Chloe may be a bit spoiled, but she’s also pretty awesome, loving, funny, smart, and helpful.
And she handles her academic career completely on her own – and makes A’s – so if you give me a choice between actually helping her DO the Chemistry homework vs. just rubbing her back a few minutes while SHE does the Chemistry homework – I think you can guess what this mama’d rather do.
So I text “Sure,” then walk through the kitchen, figuring I’ll take the luscious lasagna out of the fridge on my way to the dining room.
But just as I pull the tray out, it pings the side of the fridge, DROPS –
and SHATTERS INTO A MILLION PIECES –
ONTO MY BELOVED WOOD FLOOR!
I don’t know what’s more distressing:
The loss of our delicious home-cooked meal –
The loss of my favorite glass serving dish –
The marks on my cherished wood floor –
The fact I now have to SWEEP.
I glance desperately at the lasagna on the ground. 5 second rule? Can I just scoop it up quickly? “Hey, family, just eat around the glass shards!”
I huff and puff, stomping off to retrieve the broom and dustpan – colorful profanities spewing in my wake.
Just as I round the corner back into the kitchen — I hear a click, a giggle, and the tiny pitter-patter of footsteps fleeing the scene.
“CHLOE! Did you just take a PICTURE of my floor lasagna!?!?!”
From the other room: *Giggle* “No, Mom, what’re you talking about?”
“CHLOE! Are you texting and Tweeting and Instagramming this!?!”
From the other room: *Snort Giggle* “No! Of course not!”
“OMIGOD, CHLOE, THIS IS NOT FUNNY!”
From the other room: *Muffled laughter* “I know, I know. Do you need any *laugh* help?”
“NO! Just stay there. You’ll just cut up your feet and then I’ll have to take you to the hospital!” I say, in my Angry Martyr voice. Far better for me to clean this up myself — and make everyone else feel guilty about it.
Of course, I DO see the humor in it, so naturally, I snap a pic and post it on Facebook to generate some sympathy. Several people post compassionate words and similar mishaps — and my cyber-buddy Don Re posts, “The lasagna looks a bit dry anyway. Is that helpful?” And perversely enough, that DOES make me feel better.
But now I have nothing to serve for dinner and I want someone to deliver some GOTT-DAMN homemade lasagna to my front door!
Just then I get a text from Chloe saying, “Um…about that back rub…?”
I text back, “Too soon! Give me a minute to mourn, for God’s sake!”
So she texts me this:
What a wise ass.
I head to the kitchen and holler, “I don’t have time for backrubs! Now I have to MAKE DINNER!”
We don’t have much in the way of ingredients, so I whip this together:
Inspired Brilliance – or a Cry for Help?
(I actually ate this the other day and IT.WAS.DEEE-LICIOUS.)
I’m definitely making these for my Dinner with Elvis in the After Life. I’ll be like, “Look, El, peanut butter and banana sandwiches are so 1969. The kids today are rockin’ it with Candy Corn.” I know he’ll dig it.
Meanwhile, the mere mortals down here are none too impressed.
So I stuff some ham and cheese in those little crescent rolls and call it a day.
As for Mama — this is MY dinner:
And well-deserved, if I do say so myself.
— Darcy Perdu
(She of many skills, but much maligned for her comical cooking incompetence.)
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(Any kitchen mishaps to make me feel better about mine? What else pairs nicely with peanut butter? What dishes will you cook with YOUR fave celebs & historical figures in the After Life?)