Being that today is Mother’s Day I shall write about my little Pocket Momma. Many of you have been introduced to her do to the said coochy screaming incident but just in case you haven’t…here is one just for my Mom. My Mom is one funny chick I tell you and sometimes she doesn’t even realize it. Now Mom is also a FANTASTIC baker and I always love it when she bakes for us because we can be assured it will be quite tasty and not at all good for you. Although this one time when I was visiting she made peanut butter cookies for me and Seester. When it was pointed out to her that I was allergic to peanuts, she said “Well, I knew ONE of you was and the other was allergic to almonds.I can’t keep that straight.” Gee Mom…are you trying to kill one of us? Why not just make the cookies without any nuts? Oh I love her.
In saying that my Mom is the world’s best baker, I must relay a story about her and her baking. I always looked forward to coming home on the holidays when I had moved out so I could have some of her pie (mmmmmm…pie). Pretty sure she is the reason for my unholy love of pie. Just the thought of her flaky pie crust (the secret is lard or Crisco) make my mouth water. Seriously. Her pie is that good. Pretty sure if I asked you after tasting my Mom’s pie to go parade around downtown with your underwear on your head that you would so you could have another piece of pie. Or that could just be the punishment my Mom instituted on my Bubby when he wouldn’t change his underwear…you will never know the truth. Well, I do…
One Thanksgiving, after stuffing ourselves with all the food that the table protested the weight of, us kids decided to have some of Mom’s pie. Mom declined saying she was stuffed so we eagerly cut into it, drooling over the anticipation, and put on some whipped cream and sat down to enjoy. I immediately broke off a piece of that flaky yummy crust and just ate that. Looking up, I see Bubby with a weird look on his face as he ate his first bite. Concerned I looked at my Seester who also had a strange look on her face. Without saying anything, Bubby nods to my pie and motions for me to taste it. Frightened, I plunge my fork into the pie and put it in my mouth. Holy Mother Of All That Is Good What Is That TASTE? The worst tasting pie taste is now in my mouth and my eyes widen as I look to my siblings who are sitting there silently watching me. Oh. My. God. I try to wash the taste out of my mouth with Mountain Dew but it won’t leave. It has taken over my body and is so horrid, so evil, I cannot even begin to describe it. Horrified that my Mom’s pie could taste like death, I silently look to my siblings as to what to do. Mom, who has been engrossed in her book, finally notices the silence and says from her chair without looking up “I take it from the silence you are all enjoying my pie!” Quickly, we clamor how much we love it and how wonderful it is, practically singing songs about it, all the while making faces and trying to get the death taste out of our mouths. Seester has gone so far as to try to scrub her tongue with her fork to make it better and Bubby is eating his napkin to make it go away. Mom, luckily with her head still in her book, smiles and continues to read not noticing me trying not to gag over whatever it was I just attempted to eat.
Whispering, Seester asks what we are going to do. We all know we cannot throw the pie away…she will see it. She will know. We must eat it. Bubby contemplates if he can make it to the bathroom and flush his but this is only a solution for one slice and we have three huge slices to get rid of. All of us making trips to the potty with our pie plates might make my Mom wonder what is up and I don’t think she would buy the notion that it tastes better when you eat it in the bathtub. Quietly I get up and return with the whipped cream and start piling it on my slice! Genius. My siblings follow suit and somehow the mounds of whipped cream mask enough of the death taste for us to stomach eating the pie. Pretty sure my love of pie was ruined for a while after this experience. It was THAT BAD I tell you. We managed to eat the pie and returned to the living room area to watch a movie, each of us telling Mom thank you for the pie and how delicious it was all the while knowing that we will never eat another slice of that. What the hell did she do to that pie? Why was it so horrid?
Our unanswered questions were answered when Mom got up awhile later to get herself some pie. We all exchanged glances knowing how horrid that pie was and wondered if she would think it was good and we would all go to our graves never telling her. It got super silent as we all watched her take her first bite and her expression turned to horror and she spit it out. Relief washed over me as she exclaimed “What the hell is wrong with this pie? Why did you guys not say how horrid it was? Holy hell….what is that flavor?” Pretty sure she would have believed me if I had told her it was zombie pie at this point. We all just looked at her and finally Bubby asked her “Mom? What did you do to the pie? It tastes like a dinosaur took a shit in it, then buried its kill and then vomited in it.” Mom looked at the pie, sniffed it, licked it and exclaimed “I think I forgot to put the sugar in the pie! No wonder it tastes like crap! How did you guys eat this?” By now we are all giggling over all the ways we tried to get rid of the pie. Seester, in between giggles, says “We engulfed it in whipped cream and let it slide down without chewing!” Mom turns to me as I am laughing hysterically and asks me why we did not tell her. I looked at her and said “Mom….we didn’t want to hut your feelings. But seriously. That pie tastes like death heated up and served cold. It is the most horrid pie I have ever eaten in my life.” Mom is now laughing as she gets up and scrapes the offensive pie into the trash and says to us “I cannot believe you ate the whole slice!!” We must have laughed for hours over that pie even telling Mom how Seester was trying to scrape her tongue off with her fork to get rid of the taste. Good thing my Mom has a great sense of humor.
Best part of this story. Mom got up early the next morning and lovingly made us another pie. This time WITH sugar. I love my Mom….Happy Mother’s Day Mom.
Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I instead remembered one of the funniest moments with my Mom for Mother’s Day and am glad I didn’t die eating her pie. I am Fat Girl whose Mom brings us many sources of laughter and sometimes death tasting no sugar pie running. The experiment continues….