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Betty Crocker I Ain’t

I must be stopped.

I don’t know what’s going on inside my head… if it’s all the rain making me want to stay indoors – or if it’s some kind of virus – or maybe I’ve been possessed by the spirit of Donna Reed, I’m not sure… but I’ve been in the mood to not only clean house, but to bake.

I repeat, I must be stopped!

Sure, for a good cause, like the upcoming bake sale our office is holding for an ALS fundraiser, I’m willing to do some baking, but… I am having all these “domestic goddess” ideas floating around in my head, and I’m starting to wonder if someone slipped me something in my morning Diet Coke while I wasn’t looking?

Maybe it’s the fact that I watched an episode of the Gilmore Girls where they were watching and mocking The Donna Reed show, and then Rory later dressed up like her, complete with bouffant hairdo and pearls.  It seeped into my brain and infected my thought processes with a 50’s mentality. 

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s finally spring, and I can finally do all the things to my house that I have wanted to for YEARS, but couldn’t actually do, because the other adult that lived here, couldn’t stand all the noise the cleaning process engendered. 

I’m in a complete snit.

And I want to get a box of BIG BLACK GARBAGE BAGS, and clean out my basement. 

I have some big dreams of an immaculate house, with everything in its place, clean, shiny and sparkling.

I’m sick.

I think since the day I was born, I was the bane of my mother’s existence.  I was that child that could never keep her room clean.  I had to make a weekend of it at least once a month, to completely scrub my room from top to bottom, tearing everything out of my closet, and finding various “science projects” at the bottom of the space.

I was the child that she had to dress 2 minutes before we left for church, because any sooner, and I would find some way to stain my fancy frock, thus disgracing her in front of the whole congregation.

I was a total tomboy, making mudpies and throwing rocks – climbing trees and skidding down cliffs.  And I didn’t care much what I was wearing while I did it.

And now?  I’m having ideas of being some kind of SUPERmom. 

There has to be an pill, or  vitamin supplement, or maybe a SHOCK TREATMENT for this affliction.

Please?  I think I need help??

Betty Crocker, I ain’t, folks. 

More like Betty Cracked.

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10 thoughts on “Betty Crocker I Ain’t

  1. Can Betty Crocker whip up something chocolate and FED EX it down here? Please!…… 🙂

    • I don’t know, BigBro… I mean, you did destroy that whole chocolate bunny… I wouldn’t want to be accused of aiding and abetting a chocolate felon!

      😀

  2. OMG…I need to come rub elbows with you and have some of that Domestic Goddess Mojo rub off on me! I’ve been completely lacking in that area.

  3. I love to cook! I hate housework. Baking is more scientific than just regular cooking, the “proven” recipes have to be followed to the T so a lot of people don’t like to bake. There is no point to this comment except to say I love to cook, and to add housework sucks and should be avoided at all cost. Just keep it down to a level where the producers of “Hoarders” don’t come knocking at your door and you’ll be okay.

    • I like baking when I have a weekend where I don’t have to do anything else. This weekend I’m going to make some Tollhouse cookies. And I don’t know that I’ve ever followed a recipe to the “T”, really. I like to “experiment” and guess a lot, so some of them turn out, and some? Are “practice”. I agree that housework sucks. And DON’T let the “Hoarders” people near my basement! They’d think I blew up a junk shop down there, it’s the black hole of the house, and it’s where everything that “We’ll deal with later” gets put.

      Well, later’s here. And she’s a sonsabitch! Time for the big black garbage bags and a SARS mask, I think. Don’t want to get leprosy or rabies from anything!

  4. Pingback: Redefining Super Mom | The Intentional Parent

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