A few months ago. Before Cooper was even born. I bought a box of pineapple upside down cake mix. It’s my and my Dad’s favorite. I got home to make the cake only to discover that it wasn’t the kind that came with the pineapple. So. There I am with a box of cake mix and no pineapple and no icing so I can’t even just make a regular cake. My mom is crying tears of shame right now.
There the box sat. I gave birth. Christmas passed. Finally a week ago I bought pineapple. Yay me.
I’m home, ready to bake the cake, excited for the dessert I’d have later. I reach in the cupboard for the brown sugar. Oh, wait. I’m all out. Dumb.
A few days later I finally remembered to grab some brown sugar. Woohoo. Mmmm, cake. Drool.
I’m at home. In the kitchen. I pull out my mixing bowl, the box of mix, the brown sugar, the pineapple, butter and the eggs. Wait, eggs? Oh, look, I need 3 eggs. How many eggs do I have? 1. One. Uno. Not enough. Shit.
I give up.
No I don’t, because I love cake.
The next day I get eggs. YAY. I made it home and to the kitchen without any of the ingredients disappearing.
Of course not. Why the hell don’t I have that particular size? Hell if I know. But, according to the instructions I can split the cake between to 8x8 pans.
It could have said that I needed to split it between all of the pans left in my cabinet and I would have done it. This fucking cake is getting made.
Three months later I have not one but two beautiful pineapple upside down cakes. I just hate one.
Not a piece.