for the

"Infamous Pancake Story"-graciously provided by my mother, Terri.

Lemme set the scene..

I walk into the kitchen, its morning of course, and I am greeted with the warm aromas of home cooked breakfast. I close my eyes, imagining that I am still in Kansas City, where the breakfast meals are always perfect. The eggs are scrambled just enough, the pancakes are perfectly circled...But no.

I open my eyes, and what do i see? TERRI. standing over the stove like a madman with a spatula.

'You want some blueberry pancakes?' she says to me, taking her eyes off the frying pan and setting down the spatula.

'No Mom, I'm fine." I can just imagine the little bits of egg shells that are in the batter. My teeth hurt just thinking about it.

So I go, sit down on the couch, grab the trusty remote and flip to MTV Cribs. I almost forget about Terri and her pancake escapade. Almost.

But the smell of burnt something or other draws my attention back to the kitchen.

Smoke is slowly rising from where the frying pan, pancake batter, and Terri should be.

Reluctantly, I drag myself back into the kitchen and call-

"Mom? Are you okay? Do you need some help or something?"

The smoke answers back-

"No, I'm fine really. I just let them sit too long. And I poured Olive Oil on the pan, so the pancakes are sticking and...OH! I think the blueberries are on fire!" She says the almost happily.

So-

After all the windows in the house are opened, smoke alarms disengaged, and the frying pan rushed to the sink for an immediate cool down session, I get to see what remains of the pancakes.

Burnt crispy little things, and shaped like a mole that you would want to check for skin-cancer. Blueberries burned to the side of the frying pan.

"No worries," Terri says.

I throw away the frying pan. its coated with a one inch coat of pure burnt batter mix.

As I am huffing and puffing, cleaning the pan, I see Terri remove the syrup and butter she had been warming on another burner of the stove.

Little bits of batter had glued themselves to the butter stick, and i didnt even want to think about the syrup.

And I am sure you all will be able to guess what happened next...

yep-thats right.

Terri-my mother-my awful motherly cook, took the remains of the pancakes, the batter infested butter and the syrup that had god-knows-what in it, and made herself

a lovely meal.

The shame is too much to bear.

honestly.

<3

megan