It's me, slackermum

I'm affectionally known as slackermum.

Alright, well I named myself slackermum and it's perfectly apt.

My involvement in all things 'school' is usually limited to walking the kids to the bustop and cursing if I have to pick them up if they are ill. Last week or so Kia comes home with a letter about 'Immigration Day' where they will celebrate the trip our ancestors made on the boat over to Ellis Island (or in our case the 7.5hr flight on a Virgin Plane to Newark). The letter has the words 'volunteers needed' and I immediately switched off.  If I wanted to be surrounded by 30 children I would have become a teacher or Trigint-mum (hah you Duggars beat that!)

There was also a wee bit about sending in a traditional dish from the country your ancestors came from for the classes to sample. In true slackermum style I ignored that bit too. My cooking skills aren't exactly top notch. I am not her        ------->

Then Kia has a playdate and the friend's Mum, who if we were in a comic would be my arch nemisis in her very nonslacker "I'm in daily email contact with the teacher" way, raised her eyebrows in true shock and horror when I mentioned that I wasn't lovingly preparing a gourmet meal of epic proportions for this major 2nd Grade event that they will remember for the rest of their lives (rest of the week maybe) and that they were pretty short on main course dishes as many were sending in desserts.

Well the gaunlet was thrown.

I won't say I'm competitive because that would be too weak a word!

Trouble is what on earth could I cook that's 

a) British 

b) within my limited repertoire 

c) portable to school without needing warming 

but mostly b)

Thanks to Twitter suggestions, Yorkshire puds won out considering they have, like, 3 ingredients and are pretty much idiot proof, or should I say Cara proof.

So I told Kia's teacher at Parent's Conference that I will bring in a dish of these yummies, oh and I'll throw in some Marmite sandwiches for good measure, because then that's two dishes, two separate 'British' things, all be them far, far from gourmet, and even though I was screaming to take in a Haggis with a side dish of Black Pudding. Yumm-a-licious!

Problem is, I'm ashamed to admit, even after spending 5 years of my life in Yorkshire (admittedly in a Stella haze) I've never made Yorkshires before, Aunt Bessie did that for me, because they are perfect every time. 

We scoot to today and I deliver the delights of the creme-de-la-creme of British cuisine, the Yorkshires came out mighty fine (if I do say so myself, and I do) complete with little notecards explaining what they were made from and what on earth Marmite was, and Kia informs me after school that only her and her teacher tried the Yorkshires and noone cared for the Marmite Sandwiches.

Next time I'm keeping my slackermum pants on.