How I Saved Myself From A Year's Worth of Guilt Trips

So I kicked Mother's Day's ass. Finally. See, I've somewhat screwed up the last 5 rounds of this joyous occasion, either by forgetting totally or fucking up what I had planned. The worst one was about 4 years ago, when I was driving home late the night before and remembered to pick up a card, grabbed the first one I saw at CVS, and was horrified as it was opened by my mother the following morning, realizing that it was addressed to an expecting mother. Yeah, that was bad, but it's in the past and doesn't really matter anymore since I fucking nailed it today.

The first step I took towards being a decent human being involved actually listening to my mother for the past 2 weeks in order to surmise what she might enjoy as a present. Thankfully, the Today Show helps advertise lots of useless items that would bring joy into the middle-aged woman across the nation. Of all the things that really catch her attention, it's a decorative cupcake book.

Cupcakes.

She never makes cupcakes. I have never seen her make them or heard her mention any stories in which cupcakes were involved, but fuck it, she was excited, and now I had something to get her. I drove like a madman (everyday driving) to the nearest B&N, grabbed the only copy, a card, and an iced tea for myself (I require positive reinforcement). All that was left was the easy part: breakfast.

Woke up at like 6 this morning to start cooking some cupcakes to decorate with one of the ideas from the book (which are pretty nifty). Yes, I just used the word nifty. Breakfast itself consisted of a light fruit salad to start, followed by Eggs Benedict, and finished off with the cupcakes. Here's how it all turned out:

Eggs Benedict.

"Spaghetti and Meatballs" Cupcakes. Made using Ferrero Rocher chocolates, raspberry jam, and regular frosting.

Needless to say, she was ecstatic and amazed at not only my culinary ability (which she regularly has no faith in) but the fact that I didn't fuck up. And of course, after happily thanking me, she tacks on the disclaimer "But there's always next year..." So much for guilt-free.