I want to be that mom.  You know the kind, the has her shit together on both the inside and out.  The one who works full-time, takes college classes, volunteers on multiple boards and still goes above and beyond.  Case in point, making marshmallows instead of simply buying a bag.

Clearly, I have dreams of grandeur.

To which a pan of homemade marshmallows handed me my ass.

Here I thought I’d have beautiful homemade marshmallows, loving coated with chocolate and adorned perfectly with Valentine sprinkles.  Lets not forget delicately packaged in cellophane, tied with a bow that would make you cry.  These treats would redeem me in the treat department for not only preschool, but dance as well.  I’d have the look of envy from all of the other moms. 

It was perfect!

Me, the mom who completely screwed up by not bringing Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas treats, she was going to trump all by showing up with these magnificent marshmallows.  Handmade, none the less.

Yeah, well that bag of suckers doesn’t sound so bad now.

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