So by now you all know I'm not a chef. Martha Stewart beats me hands-down every time. If it was healthy to eat Peanut Butter and Jelly for three meals a day... I would.

Take this evening for example, I decided to make meatballs *rolls eyes*. Disaster! On a scale of 1-10-- 1 being flavored dog food, 10 being better than Martha-- I'd rate mine a 3.5. They were cooked through... but that was the highlight of the dish. They had freshly chopped onion, freshly chopped garlic, salt and pepper and some other stuff and they still tasted like bland, dry meat. They even had marinara sauce over them. Never again! Blech...

On the other hand, something I make delicous about once a month is Homemade Banana Bread! It turns out perfect every time! Crispy on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside, and sweet all the way around! Since the meatballs fiasco I decided to post a picture of the Banana Bread to make myself feel better.

The funniest thing happened on the way home from the park today! Hubby was driving and the boys were in the backseat, both tired, hot and whining. We all had our windows down and Hubby had his arm resting on the window edge. Soon Ben began whining in increasingly higher octaves, and Hubby couldn't tone it out anymore and began snapping at him. Just at that moment, God saw an opportunity: a bird pooped on Hubby's arm!

"Oh my gosh! Look at this! Disgusting! Sheesh!" ...and other choice words were barreling toward me from the direction of the driver's seat. I was trying my best to hold back my tears of humor, while uncontrollably laughing out loud. I quickly handed Hubby a baby wipe and watched while he wiped off the little green dookey from his wrist.

A few minutes later Hubby looked at me and said, "I guess God was telling me to stop snapping at the boys." I thought about it, nodded my head, and replied, "Yes, the Lord sends even the smallest Messengers." Hubby just glared at me.

This is how I found my son the other night when I went in his room to check on him. Apparently he was a little hot. Either that or Superman forgot his uniform under those pj's!

Today I have officially started back on my diet. Breakfast: 1 1/2 cup of Special K cereal with a little honey on top. A little bland, but once it gets past the gag reflex, not bad!

Snack: Banana.

Lunch: green salad with a little shredded cheese and a low-fat Asian/Sesame dressing. Delicious but not nearly filling enough. So I cooked about 2 cups of broccoli and poured a tablespoon of melted cheese over the top. Yum... *rolling eyes*. Then hubby laughed at me and said to the kids, "Mom's back to her diet... the all vegetable diet." Idiot, sitting there with his plate of nachos and a coke... I'll be the healthy one, you wait and see... I'll also be the gassy one (mental note: cut back on the greens).

Snack: 1 1/2 cups of Special K cereal with a little honey... again.

Snack: Hostess hoho... don't ask... and about ten Wheat Thins.

Dinner: Pasta with Marinara sauce and breaded chicken. I figured I doubled up on veggies at lunch so I could allow myself to double up on pasta at dinner.

Snack: 1 cup Special K cereal with a drizzle of honey... *sigh*...

We'll see how it goes tomorrow... I'll need to grab some more honey from the store at the rate I'm going.

I hope her Mom doesn't mind, but just look at those blue peepers! I think everyone should see how pretty she is! ...nevermind the need for a kleenex...

She's ready to go, but stuck in turtle mode!

Here's my sweet Dad and always adorable Niece! I love this picture!

You've got to love my little football fan. Currently he's enthralled with the Colts, but it varies to the Steelers and the Giants and the Patriots, or even the 49er's depending on the day. He'd never stoop as low as the Raiders, thank goodness!

I asked my kids what we should have for dinner last night, and the four year old asked for milk with chocolate, pancakes with syrup, and ice cream. My two year old pointed excitedly to our Gummy Vites vitamins (seriously, gummy bears have never been this exciting before). Nice try, I thought. Very original. Daddy would just love it if we had pure sugar for dinner. Now where's the pancake mix, I wondered...

So lately my four year old has been "pointing out the obvious" in situations. Like at dinner the other night, I was sitting at the table facing out toward the backyard patio and the sun was shining through the windows hitting my eyes at the most annoying angle (comparable to fingernails on a chalkboard). "Wow, that's really bright and right in my eyes"... I said out loud and mostly to myself. Jake looked at me with a blank stare and said, "So move." I looked up at my hubby to protest and found him silently chuckling to himself. "What!" I demanded. "He makes a good point"... he replied. So I forced myself to grin and bear it for the remainder of the meal. I wasn't about to be upstaged by someone who still picks their nose.

Then the next afternoon my booger boy and I were playing soccer in the backyard and I kicked the ball way off to the left. "Why did it go over there!" I exclaimed. Jake looked at me and said, "You kicked it over there. Next time kick it forward if you want it to go straight." Mentally I rolled my eyes. "Thank you" I mumbled... but he continued, "No problem Mom. Anything else or can we play now?" Sheesh.

The new version of Shakespeare: The Empire Striketh Back

So lately my two year old literally "dives in" to his PB&J's and this is the result... when he was done we drug him outside and hosed him down.

So yesterday we were headed to my sister's house for the whole day! I wanted to leave early enough to have the entire day to spend with her, so I told my boys we'd be leaving first thing! Well, they were ready to go at about 7:45. I said, "let's give them a chance to wake up".

An hour or so later I was headed out to the car to load my things and I instructed the boys to each grab a toy to take along with them. I grabbed all three of our jackets, plus each of their blankets, my bag, a sippy and the keys. Then Ben started to hand me his toy for the car: an enormous bright orange garbage truck, half the size of him! I asked him if he'd rather bring a small car or motorcycle, or a book. "No! That!" He declared, thrusting his pointer finger at it. So up it went on top of my pile. Then Jake decided he wanted to bring his Leapster and two different games. He tried handing it to me and I said, "really, Son, I couldn't possibly hold another item." But apparently his arms were broken and he began a long drawn-out version of "Killing Me Softly".... so up the Leapster went to the top of the pile, precariously perched on the hood of the garbage truck.

Jake opened the door and out we all went. Then of course my keys fell (why wouldn't they?) so I committed the most brilliant balancing act known to mankind in hopes of picking them up without dropping everything in my hands. Picture an elephant on a tight-rope. By a miracle only God could produce I got the car door open and the stuff piled in.

As we were getting everyone situated in the car, each to his own carseat, Ben decided he wanted the garbage truck on the seat right next to him. "Wouldn't you like to put it on the floor under your feet?" I excitedly asked him! "No! Seat." he replied. So up on the seat it went, taking up the entire middle section; Ben happily patted the top of it, content as could be. Great, one down, one to go. I look over at Jake and he's already buckled and started his Leapster. Smooth sailing, I think!

Something's missing... I thought. Purse: check. Kids: check. PJ's for later: check. Keys: gone. I looked all throughout the car and glanced out my window to see my husband standing there dangling them from his fingers, smirking. I got out and retreived them saying, "You could've helped, you know." He replied, "I needed a good laugh this morning." Glad I can boost someone's day.

There is something controlling, insulting and incriminating lurking in my bathroom... it's my scale! I hate that thing, yet I'm always drawn back to it. It knows when I've been laying off the sweets, or if I've had a bad day, or how fun the holidays were... not even my own husband knows me as well as this plastic square device.

The other evening my hubby stepped on the scale and was delighted to find he'd lost yet another pound! Then he gestured toward it, "go ahead!" he declared excitedly. As I slowly stepped toward it, the events of my day were rapidly playing in my mind: peanut butter waffles, banana, brownie, cheese enchilada, rice, brownie, Pepsi, 1 baby carrot, 5 wheat thins, brownie... I thought maybe the scale would be in a kind and generous mood, because we all know how tempermental a scale can be.

I stepped up on it and held my breath. Slowly the numbers creeped up and up... and slowly my blood pressure rose faster and faster. And there it was, in all it's glory, the final number. At least I didn't break the scale, I thought. "Well, there you go!" I said. "I'll need to take a couple pounds off for my Ugg boots, and then another pound or so off for my sweatshirt. Also, it's been a long time since I've used the bathroom, and..." As I looked at my hubby my voice trailed off. He was standing there, hands on hips, shaking his head and smirking. "You're pathetic." He laughed and left the room. Since I'm so heavy, it's a good thing he finds me amusing, I told myself.

It's a little infuriating, I rationalized to myself. Hubby can lay off the beer and soda for one week, add two extra salads, and lose 6 lbs. I lay off soda and desserts for a week, add a salad to every meal, and gain 12 lbs. along with two new zits on my face. Where is the justification, I wonder...