Missed World’s Worst Mother By *That* Much

I was making dinner. Sweet & Spicy Turkey Cutlets with a side of Roasted Asparagus; fairly easy and yum. I’m more than happy to share recipes! Wait, what was I talking about? Oh, yeah….

The kids were left to their own devices, because the hubs must have forgotten that when I was awarded World’s Worst Mother in the past, the WWM Authority removed my ability to see around corners. As many of you know, when you are cooking, you are usually already multitasking, with two timers going as you chop the next ingredient, or as you frantically search for the spice you were sure you had and actually do have but keep missing it somehow as you repeatedly pick up the Turkish Oregano thinking that you’re looking for a green top when you are really looking for a red top, and … oh, sorry, right, the kids.

I was trying, without much success, to referee the boys’ disagreements in the living room from the kitchen, generally by yelling “Okay, WHAT’S GOING ON?!!” every time 3-year-old Pumpkin started crying again.

But then big brother Einstein appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking a bit concerned, and said, “I think Pumpkin needs an ice pack!” Oh, lord, I thought, I am never cooking while the kids are still awake ever again! My neglect has resulted in a terrible injury!

Before I had time for full panic survival mode to kick in, however, I heard a voice pipe up from the living room, calmly declaring:

“Ice packs are vewwy cold!”

Not even slightly hurt. Also, prepped and ready for Chem 101.

6 thoughts on “Missed World’s Worst Mother By *That* Much

  1. Is it bad that I’m laughing? You need to compare your stories with other moms. You are so not even close to being the world’s worst mom. Also, it’s difficult because your kitchen is kind of closed off from the living room. I can see the kids while cooking and I still yell occasionally…sometimes more than occasionally. But, with regard to ice packs, I have a cute story too, though I won’t hijack. What I can say is that when there’s an accident in the house, I hear the words, “I need the ice bear.”

    How did dinner turn out?

  2. Oh I know I’m not such a terrible mother, but we all feel that way sometimes and I know it makes me feel better when someone else says they are the world’s worst. Besides, self-deprecation is funny 🙂
    Dinner was great, IMO. The hubs didn’t like it. Oh well. More leftovers for me.

  3. The World’s Worst Mom is at the mall on Black Friday beating the crap out of an old lady in order to wrest the last Please Kill Me Now Elmo from her bony, arthritic fingers. That is certainly not you. Of course, your status as being declared World’s Best Mom is in jeopardy as my sources reveal that you gave your son yellow birthday cake, which we all know is the product of Lucifer’s Kitchen.

    I would submit that, in these tough economic times, indulgences like Turkish Oregano are not reflective of the sacrifices that Dear Leader says we should be making in order to stimulate the economy. Dinner should also be eliminated so that you will be financially prepared to pay for your sky rocketing energy costs.

    And isn’t the husband’s job to choke down what you make and say, “That was delicious honey?” You may want to have him brought in to make sure his logic board hasn’t been damaged.

  4. The non-chocolate nature of the birthday cake is cancelled out by the fact that it was homemade and hand-decorated. And I was able to turn the cake over onto a board prior to frosting so as to completely hide the fact that the center of the cake fell when I took it out of the oven.

  5. they should kiss your blessed feet and swaddle you in massage oil for “cooking with wolves.” having raised ( and still doing it) a boy for whom my entire psyche and heart hath been ripped out of my body for, i understand the joy/pain of being the perfect mother who isn’t quite sure of the title.

    woman, enjoy these days and keep a journal. when they get older, they will blame you for everything (teen years), so be prepared with detailed rebuttals, lol.

    turkish what?

    screw that. simple, always simple. and for the husband, let him eat cake! yellow, chocolate, or otherwise. ( can you tell i’m divorced?)


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *