Convenient and thorough instructions… for when you have to make your own celebration.
1. Make short but detailed shopping list: strawberry cake mix, Pillsbury vanilla frosting (I don’t know why it’s the best tub of frosting… it just is). Don’t forget to check if you have eggs and oil.
2. Give lazy husband shopping list.
3. Write blog post, poetry or fiction while waiting for return of lazy husband.
4. Frantically text lazy husband to ask that he stop at Dunkin’ on the way back for the big fat iced coffee you forgot to ask him to get before he left.
5. Snatch iced coffee from husband and begin sucking it down like you need it to live (because you do).
6. Retreat to kitchen, asking everyone to leave you alone for a while. Wonder if ‘alone‘ will last more than 30 seconds.
7. Grab bowl, dump everything in it and stick it in the Kitchenaid. Low… then taste. Medium for a minute… then taste. Medium for another minute… then taste.
8. Suck down more iced coffee to avoid fainting from lack of caffeine.
9. Scoop (I scoop, I don’t pour) batter into cupcake pans. Don’t forget the liners… cleaning those pans is a bitch. Don’t worry about scraping all the batter out with that scoop. You’re going to need a snack while the cupcakes are baking.
10. Drink up while waiting for the dying oven to come to temperature since you forgot to preheat. Remember to set dying oven to about 300°F so it’ll be around 325°F. Check dying oven’s temp after about 5 minutes of baking. When you see that it’s now at 400°F, turn it down to about 275°F so maybe it’ll get back to 325°F. Say a little prayer that they bake alright considering the repeated temp changes, checks and adjustments.
11. Curse lazy husband for wanting to wait to replace the dying oven until it’s dead. Contemplate whacking the fuck out of the dying oven with a sledgehammer so it’s dead and will need replacing. Try to erase thoughts of whacking lazy husband with sledgehammer.
12. Stare at the cupcakes as if willing them to cool faster. Then frost. If there’s any leftover frosting, pat yourself on the back for being brilliant enough to have left yourself a snack for later.
13. Drink remaining iced coffee. (I’m just kidding. That’s long gone by now.)
14. Tell everyone the cupcakes won’t be ready to eat for a few hours because the frosting has to settle (or whatever creative bullshit story you can think of). Wait until kids are asleep and lazy husband vanishes to the basement. Make coffee. Choose a cupcake. Eat cupcake. Drink coffee. Rearrange cupcakes so no one can tell one is missing.
15. The next day, be sure to mention that you can’t wait to see how delicious they are while laughing on the inside.
16. Lament having to make your own mother’s day treat since lazy husband sucks at this sort of thing. Curse said husband. Maybe cry a little. Then eat another cupcake.
Happy Mother’s Day.
©2017 what sandra thinks