"Pancakes can go f@*& themselves" - An open letter to my late grandmother...

Dear Ma...
When I realised this weekend that tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and the start of Lent, of course the first person I thought of was you, and of course (again), the STACK of pancakes you would make for all the grandchildren on Shrove Tuesday, or Pancake Tuesday. God alone knows how you kept your cool while making like, a hundred pancakes or something, seeing as there was a million of us rugrats to feed. Bless you, Ma.
And seeing as I'm officially A Traditional Old Fart, I decided to keep the tradition alive and make a stack of pancakes for my family-away-from-home, The People At The Office.
Well, Ma... I'm sure you had a good chuckle watching me from heaven, as I went through THREE different frying pans, trying to find one that wouldn't stick. I'm pretty sure you giggled at the clump of stodgy dough I scraped out of the first 2 and had to chuck in the bin. I'm fairly confident that you were rolling on the floor with laughter, when I put a tiny piece of pancake on the kitchen floor for Beena The Cat to turn her nose up at, and then stepped in it, and smooshed it all over my kitchen floor, after paying my cleaning lady to do a good clean up just yesterday.
Every.
Single.
Pancake.
Stuck.
To the pan.
Why, Ma?! WHY????
I followed the instructions. To the letter! But still, it was a nightmare.
You can see from the pic, I managed to get ±30 lacy pancakes out of the giant bowl of batter, but only through the mercy of God.
Ma? Unless you manage to whisper in the ear of mom/dad/Brendan/Donovan to buy me one of those fancy non-stick Bauer pans, I have to say that this is the last time I put myself through this...
Please forgive the swear word in the title of this letter, but I was really cross when I wrote it.
Say HI to Grandpa for me?
Love always,
Carmen.
PS. You're a legend!