The “I’m Going To Be Like Her” Game
By Christie Perkins
This is what happens when you play the “I’m going to be like her game.” So, this disaster all began on a stormy night.
Well, kind of. I came home from church storming into the house excited to make these delicious cupcakes. Ok, ok…so, technically, it wasn’t night but broad beautiful daylight. Now, I’m not much of a cupcake lover (go ahead, glare if you must) but things changed for me one Sunday.
On Sundays I work with 12 and 13 year old girls, Beehives. I love it. On this particular Sunday one of the girls brought in cupcakes for a post lesson treat.
Her mom is notorious for her cakes and cupcakes. Check her out here. You know how someone has mastered their calling in life and everything they think just clinks perfectly into place? Yeah, well Tyann has this superhuman ability with cupcakes.
And that was my first big mistake.
My second downfall was my natural craving to peanut butter: peanut butter M&M’s, peanut butter toast, peanut butter cups. And, oh, I’m considering adding peanut butter frosting to Shepherds Pie to knock it off my gaggy food list. Hey, it worked for cupcakes… so why not Shepherds Pie?
These immaculately tastebud tickler frosting cupcakes entered my mouth and changed me forever. It only took one bite and I was chained to its pulling force. I found a new temptation I had to learn to resist.
Great. Just great.
It all went down from there. It triggered the bad mom moment. You know how you shove that thing into your mouth as quickly as possible so you don’t have to share with the kids. Then, frantically brush your face of crumbs, shake your shirt, and polish your halo.
Then you realize one horrifying thing: your breath. How can you talk to your kids with that immaculate peanut butter breath?
So you end up answering all questions in nods to avoid flavoring the air with your selfish act. And it’s really hard to answer deep thought provoking questions like, “Mom, what’s for dinner?” with just a nod. A shrug works fine when really all you can think is, How about peanut butter frosting cupcakes?
Yep, bad mom strikes again. All because I thought I’d try something that I figured would have no effect on me.
Oh, how I was wrong.
All Mistakes Have Their Purpose
So long story short: I made the cupcakes and ended up with my version, Disaster Peanut Butter Log Worm Cupcakes. There’s a recipe below you can chuck.
So, despite my disaster cupcakes, this story does have its happily ever after. You see, I have all boys. And food, not presentation of food, triggers my boys’ happiness. All the efforts of platters don’t matter, it’s the flavor they savor. Though my cupcakes aren’t hanging out on poofy perfect cloud nine, I hear a magic phrase:
“Mom, these are good.”
So, I save their day with my cupcakes and ruin mine. For mine will never be hers. But, that’s the consequences of following the bad idea of wannabe cupcakes.
Do it your way. Mine evoked a lot of chuckles.
And you know what? I’m good with that.
4 Steps of Recovery When You Find Yourself Messed Up in a Wannabe Trap
Feel Sorrow. Oh, I was sorry the cupcakes didn’t turn out the way I wanted them to. What a disappointment. But, you’ve gotta feel the emotion, wallow in it for a moment, then move on.
Confess. Admit that they are really good at what they do. Acknowledge them for what they are good at. Tell them. Confess (to yourself) that you are you and you have you’re own good (but not necessarily eye-pleasing cupcakes) to offer. And that’s okay. What are you good at? Come on. Fess up.
Right the Wrong. Now, get over them and try to wannabe you. Simply put- be you. Not them. (But you can still admire them… and I do.) Oh, what a lame day that would’ve been had I not discovered the Disaster Peanut Butter Log Worm Cupcakes. Seriously. Learn tips from your favorite people and then make your own mark at your own attempts.
One of my most favorite church talks was not from a perfectly orated speech but from a boy who shook, stumbled, and slopped over his words.
It’s alright to be you.
Don’t Repeat. Tell yourself over and over (yep, oxymoronic) that you have something to offer this world. Y.O.U. Don’t get caught in the trap of wanting to be like someone else. Don’t try and repeat someone’s actions. Instead, gain their insight and understand that you will do it your way. But, if you can’t resist the temptation to these cupcakes, here’s a little something…
Recipe for Disaster Peanut Butter Log Worm Cupcakes:
1 recipe cake mix. Follow directions for cupcakes.
Disaster Peanut Butter Frosting
adapted from allrecipes.com
(Theirs had a beautiful pic, a nice title, & oodles & gobs of likes)
1 cup no name brand peanut butter (I’m frugal)
1/2 cup butter (softened by sitting on countertop… not melting it in the microwave)
2 Tbsp. 1% milk (then second guess yourself; add another Tbsp. for a total of 3)
2 cups powdered sugar
Directions To Avoid:
First, plop all ingredients into mixing bowl. Then, make this disaster frosting by adding too much milk- beat it until your sure it won’t return to it’s previous fluffy state (like 6-7 minutes) and then add an extra 27 seconds, just in case.
Look disappointed, but proceed.
Scoop frosting into bag (which resembles nothing like frosting). Punch a hole in your cooled cupcake with frosting tip. Yes, on purpose. Get all twirly in your stomach, hope, and squeeze. If your eyebrows jam together quickly like mine, you’re on the right track.
No fluff… just log wormy stuff should squeeze out.
Place on the countertop and hope that your name tag wandered off somewhere.
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