Jami's Pancake Problem

I can't flip pancakes. It's some sort of physical defect. I don't understand why, but no matter how hard I try, no matter what "sure-fire" technique someone has insisted I use, no matter what color, shape or size the pancakes, spatula and/or skillet the fact remains that this is something I will never be successful at. Sadly, I can remember when I discovered this defect in my character - 6th grade Home Ec (the bane of my Jr. High days - forced Home Ec classes). Our teacher - Mrs. Pratt, I believe - explained to us how you watch the center and the little bubbles stop and then in one quick, deft motion you glide them into the air, over and back down - viola. Right? Well, no, a pack of gawky adolescents will not be able to master this skill in just the one demonstration, and in my memory pancake pieces and batter ended up everywhere, like a diorama of D-Day with pancakes representing the soldiers. For Mrs. Pratt's sake, I hope my memory exaggerates, but knowing 6th graders, I'm not sure. By the end of the next 42 minute class, I believe most of my classmates had it down, and though I was not among the successful, I had no concern about it. Years passed though, and repeated attempts at pancake perfection yield essentially the same results each time - I butcher the first few, and tell myself that everyone says the first ones are supposed to be messed up. I pour one, two, or if I'm feeling crazy four more perfectly round pools of batter into a nice buttery skillet. I watch for the tell-tale signs that they have reached the height of flipping readiness. Somehow, this is where it will all start to go wrong. The spatula won't get the whole thing, or it'll push the front of the pancake into the middle. Or part of the pancake will magically not be cooked as much as the rest. Or the pancake will tear as I lift it. Even if, somehow, I miraculously manage to swoop up the whole thing, there is no doubt that I will flip it onto another pancake, thereby meshing the cooked side of one into the uncooked side of the other. Man, does that irk me, too. Of course there are the ones I've flipped just a touch too early and which will, for some reason, never finish cooking. Never. They will remain that unhealthy looking light beige even if I apply a blowtorch directy to the pancake. By the time I'm done, what remains is a plate of misshapen, mostly cooked, pathetic-looking "pancakes" and tiny droplets of batter in various stages of done-ness all around. Sadly, I keep trying. People tell me their little secrets and I try that next time. I preheat the griddle, I don't pre-heat it. I use butter, margarine, Pam, olive oil. I've tried every shape of spatula available in the free world. I believe the words my Home Ec teacher who said that it's just a matter of practice. But it isn't. It's a magical skill I never will master. I have to accept my short-comings and still love who I am, and let the Husband make the pancakes for our family. Actually, it's not a bad excuse to get out of making dinner, is it? "Hey, babe? I'm in the mood for pancakes . . . but you know how that goes. . . "