Oatmeal Cookies For Sparky's Kindergarten Class

(Photo stolen from this site)

Cream a cup of butter in a bowl.

There was a time when I would have had a joke about this sentence, but not now. Now I am a parent of a kindergartener.

Add a cup of packed brown sugar and a half cup of granulated sugar. Cream until fluffy.

Yeah, and as the parent of a kindergartener, I need to provide a snack for her whole class once in a while. So I am baking oatmeal cookies.

Add two eggs and a teaspoon of vanilla. Beat the snot out of it.

I could throw some cheese sticks into a bag with a sack of Goldfish, but I have this thing for home-made snacks.

Measure 1 1/2 cups flour into a small bowl.

Even though Sparky says that her teacher doesn't know who I am.

Add a teaspoon of baking soda to flour.

"Of course she knows who I am, honey!" I said, but Sparky was still worried.

Add 1/2 teaspoon salt to dry ingredients and mix.

"No, Mama, she doesn't. All the other mamas come in to help at Centers, but you're the only one who doesn't." 

Throw in three cups of old-fashioned, BECAUSE YOU CARE ENOUGH TO USE THE REAL SHIT, DAMMIT, oats, and stir, HARD.

"My teacher doesn't remember you."

Add the 1/3 bag of chocolate chips you TOTALLY forgot you had or they'd be toast, and white raisins BECAUSE YOU CARE, and stir.

Oh yeah?  Well . . .

Drop spoonfuls of dough, about, oh, AS BIG AS YOUR UTERUS WAS BEFORE CHILDREN, onto ungreased cookie sheets.

So, yeah, I'd be down there at Centers in a flash if I didn't stay up half the night baking cookies.

Bake at 350 million freaking degrees until those suckers are as black and hard as your heart.

10:45 p.m. Washing a pan. Yup. Two more that won't get washed until tomorrow, yup.

Do not send enough cookies for those moms at Centers to have any. Bitches.

Comments

[Suz Broughton]

I'm linking to this on The Mom Blog tomorrow. So funny.

[mommypie]

Do our kids go to the same school?!? Today on the way home, MP told me the teacher says I have to stop forgetting to bring ingredients for baking or the kids won't be able to bake anymore.

I suppose I should count my blessings. I only have to bring INGREDIENTS, not actually BAKE.

Um, sorry.

[Suz @ aliVe in wonnderland]

You're like a psychotic Betty Crocker with anger issues, only better.

[Auds]

I'm with CBW on this one...forget the chocolate chips and throw in some sour grapes! *lol*

At least that way, after one bite I guarantee they'll never ever forget you again!

[MomZombie]

You had me at "balls of dough the size of your uterus."
You rock, Foolery!

[Vered - MomGrind]

Mommy guilt is such a waste of time. I wish we could all stop experiencing it!

[My Name is Cat]

I am a non-working, imperfect mom. I have volunteered for a few things over the course of my kids school careers, but I've never joined the PTO or been in charge of anything until Angst was in high school when I decided we needed a booster club for the debate team. What a freakin' idiot I am. Why didn't I just keep on being the loser mom? Why did I have to get all joiny and incharge at this late point in the game?

[Big Hair Envy]

When my daughter was in elementary school, we were still permitted to send in cupcakes for birthday celebrations. I baked up two dozen chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese frosting and pink sprinkles. My daughter was THRILLED when I showed up during lunch with those beauties! Her friends ate them at warp speed, but my daughter was always a slow eater. She savored every bite! When the bell rang to indicate it was time to return to the classroom, one of the "Center Moms" snatched my daughter's cupcake and tossed it into the trash. All hell flew into me and I told her that she had better not EVER touch my child's food again. I went back to work FUMING MAD! Needless to say, I was never popular with the "Center Moms"!

[wrekehavoc]

in my school, you'd be yelled at over those choc chips -- so many of the kids have peanut/tree nut allergies, you'd be in deep kimchee.

sigh. i want to have a time when i can bake things and not kill any kids in the process. i heart baking.

and no cookies for those ladies. nada.

[EDITED TO ADD A COMMENT BECAUSE BLOG OWNER STILL CANNOT SEE ANY TYPEPAD BLOGS FROM HER WORK COMPUTER . . .

Hey Miss Wreke! Yes, I checked out the allergies thing with the teacher when school started. Hard to believe, but there are NO food allergies in Sparky's entire class, so we're good to go.]

[Rebeckah]

SO freakin' funny : ). I don't think I am ever going to be a cool school mom! Ever...

[Fancy Schmancy]

I remember this feeling all too well, being one of the very few working mothers, never a lunch or library volunteer. I feel your pain, or is it guilt? Whatever, I feel it. High school is so much easier, except for getting him up in the morning!

[MamaMo]

I guarantee the kids now know who you are, and they'll probably remember those cookies a lot longer than centers!

[The Glamorous Life]

Did the same once.
Packed them in colorful bags with cute napkins and satin bows at the top. I walk in smiling holding my tray of goodness. I was frickin June Cleaver I tell you.

Only to discover "no homemade treats permitted-must be prepackaged"

Bitches.

[Mental P Mama]

I hope you explained to her that those mommies don't have anything to do so you let them come work at the centers.

[The Mom Bomb]

Okay, I have tears running down my cheeks right now from laughter. And as someone who has done "Centers", you are a wise, wise woman to avoid them.

[Bob Cleveland]

I still get the feeling, when I read your blog, like I had back in High School when we looked through the hole in the Band Room wall .. you know .. the one that looked into the Girls' Gym Showers.

I'm glad I'm not Catholic. I'd have to go make a novena or something.

[Chesapeake Bay Woman]

In my version of your hysterical recipe, I'd toss in a few sour grapes in the end for good measure. Where good measure = the distance between the non-working, perfect mothers and my clenched fist.

Never fear. I've walked up to my daughter's soccer coach before to explain that she had to leave practice early. After I spewed forth a few rambling reasons why she couldn't stay, the coach interrupted me and said, "Who are you?"

Yeah. Makes ya feel real good.

Hey, look on the bright side. The kids still know who you are.