Ode to my Mom

As my blog states, I'm not a Supermom, I'm an anti-Supermom. I'm letting the truth out, say putting it all on the 'table', I cannot make a roast. My mother didn't enjoy cooking and so she never passed on cooking skills. I'm embarrassed by this, not my mother, but the roast. I believe it's suppose to be easy; you put it into a crockpot with some vegetables and turn it on? Really, I don't know what else to add so I put some seasoning salt on it and viola eight hours later I had a very blah dinner.

I don't ever recall my mother opening a cookbook to make dinner, she just seemed to have it all memorized. To add, I really liked most everything my mother made, minus meatloaf, which funny enough turns out to be my son, Henry's favorite. So this may turn out to be a ode to my mother's cooking. Love you, Mom.

In another, completely unrelated anti-Supermom moment. I was excited about it being Wednesday, this is my night to volunteer (in other words, I get out of the house without kids). The morning started with Henry vomiting all night long, passed on from Wyatt who was doing the same only two days earlier. I didn't know that I would end the afternoon with Henry moaning on the couch, being covered in vomit by the other baby that I watch and my husband coming home to him feeling 'a little under the weather' (which of course, turned out to be horrible night for him too). So, when it came to leave, I couldn't do it. I stayed home with my family that needed me. See, I can be a good Mom sometimes.

Oh yes, if anyone knows how to make a roast, please feel free to leave a comment.