There’s Absolutely Nothing Wrong with Eating Hamburger Helper for Breakfast
My family does not trust me in the kitchen. Even the dog. Mrs. Pain in the Butt, our golden retriever, paces and pants every time I turn the stove on – just because I happened to set off the smoke alarm a few years ago while I was cooking. My husband is just as bad. Since I had never operated a gas stove before we moved into this house, he is convinced that I am going to blow us all up. This paranoia stemmed from the fact that, the first night we moved into the house, I placed a box on the counter next to the stove, inadvertently turning one of the dials ever so slightly. We woke up in the middle of the night to the distinct smell of gas. I try to tell him, “But I wasn’t even cooking when I almost killed us!” He does not find that reassuring.
The only family member that meets my rare trips to the kitchen with delight and anticipation is our bulldog, Wonderbutt. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he steadfastly clenches to the belief that I am going to give him food scraps while I am foraging for a Diet Coke.
And our daughter? Here is how confident she is about my kitchen skills:
My husband, who usually prepares breakfast in the morning, had to leave early one day, and reluctantly left it up to me. My daily breakfast is cereal, but my daughter is used to gourmet meals made to order by Cap’n Firepants. That morning, at 6:20, I went to wake her up.
“Hey, sweetie. Time to get up.”
“Umm. Daddy had to go to work early, so it’s just me today.”
“What would you like for breakfast?”
Silence. Then a hesitant, “You know how to make waffles, don’t you?”
“Well, I probably could. I think it has a recipe on the side of the box. But I think I would need to use the mixer (don’t I?), and that would take a lot of time. Plus, you know I’m not good at doing multi-step tasks early in the morning.”
She sat up, and looked at me.
“You. Just. Put. Them in the. Toaster,” she said slowly.
“Oh! Those kind of waffles! Sure, I can do that!” I said with great confidence.
“Okay,” she said, looking at me doubtfully.
“I can!” I said.
I marched to the kitchen to prove my point, thinking, “Geez, why can’t she just have a darn Pop Tart like every other kid in America?”
Oh yeah, because we don’t have Pop Tarts.
Another thing no one trusts me to do – the grocery shopping.
Posted on February 8, 2013, in Cap'n Firepants, Children, Dimples, Dogs, Family, Humor, Mrs. P.I.B., Parenting, Wonderbutt and tagged cooking, food, humor, motherhood, Pop Tarts got me through childhood and look how great I turned out. Bookmark the permalink. 35 Comments.
We could have been separated at birth!
It can’t be possible that there are two of us! The world would fall off its axis.
LOL… I have had hamburger helper for breakfast…. in fact I would be hart put to find something I havent had for breakfast for I eat whatever is there…. sauerkraut and sausage, steak, tacos and sometime even cereal! LOL…. Not having to grocery shop is a plus… 🙂 who wants to do that? LOL…. ya know, Ginger says if you burn everything you make for breakfast you wont have to make anyone breakfast!!!! Muwahahahaahah
God Bless You!
the collies and chuck 🙂
Ginger has the right idea!
I’m not sure what hamburger helper is, but I like your style. Learned helplessness is a GREAT way to get out of domestic chores you hate to do… I shall take a leaf out of your book with the ironing (and keep you posted!)
I’m going to assume you don’t know what Hamburger Helper is because you live in Sydney, and not because you are “above” pre-mixed meals in a box that you just add to cooked ground beef. Although, you seem like a pretty classy person, so you probably don’t do box meals too often.
It is the former, my sweet…
Wow. Wonderbutt’s tongue looks scary in that picture:)
I know!!!! That is one seriously long tongue.
Love that name..Wonderbutt..:)
It doesn’t really matter what we call him. He doesn’t respond to anything except the sound of the treat canister.
I call my dog Mag-a-tron. She loves bacon treats.
Haha! I hate the kitchen. I wish I was banned from mine! Your doggy is adorable 🙂 thanks for the cute post!
Some nefarious people might deliberately sabotage their own cooking just so they could be seen as inept in the kitchen and not be expected to do anything. Not that I’m making that suggestion…
I would have just left you to make homemade waffles instead of toaster waffles. I haven’t had homemade waffles in a very long time.
I think it’s safe to say that I would not have actually gone through with making the homemade waffles. Dimples knows my limits.
You are definitely my long lost twin!
Yeah, if I had that Aga stove thing you’ve got, I’m sure I would have blown us up a long time ago.
Poor Dimples had to eat toaster waffles in the Cap’n’s (Is the apostrophe right in that? I am thrown off by the ‘n.) absence. I could maybe make waffles ok but definitely not on a school morning!
Yes, she is very deprived when the Cap’n is not around to make her meals. He even makes her lunch to take to school!
I’m suitably impressed that you even considered making waffles from scratch at that hour of the morning. You’re a brave woman.
I’m not sure I was actually considering it. I think my brain was just trying to stall until I could think of a more attractive suggestion that would trump the waffles.
I’m so glad to find that I’m not the only one. In all fairness, the majority of the best chefs in the world are men, so it truly is their place 🙂
I will pass that on to Cap’n Firepants!
so, the smoke alarm going off is not the same as the dinner bell?
Since I usually trigger it before I’ve even started cooking (like when I pre-heat the oven), sadly the smoke alarm is merely a signal that the kitchen should just be Mrs.Cap’n Firepants proofed.
Wonderbutt is thinking, “Um… I like waffles, too, ya know…”
And he would be perfectly satisfied with the frozen ones – even before they went in the toaster.
You can always just throw raw food in the microwave, then just nuke it for 30 seconds at a time until it’s edible.
What? It actually works when you’re really drunk.
And your tastebuds are shattered from tequila.
Can’t I just skip the food and go straight to the tequila?
DeDe and I love when Jen cooks….. but we don’t like it when she sets off the smoke alarm.
I’m sure she doesn’t do it that often. Right?
Yeah…. right…. *snicker*
I love that dog. My dogs will come running, from the bottom of a sleeping bag that they’re sharing downstairs with a sticky kid, all the way up to the kitchen for two sounds: one, my husband pulling a knife out of the knife block because that means meat and two, me opening the cabinet above the stove because that means popcorn.
I like to cook…but I’m with you in the mornings – I don’t cook nice breakfasts for my family – though my mom did, from scratch, every nice breakfast you can think of. Apparently that early-morning love was not transfered on to me.