Mini-muffins: almost as good as muffin tops

I got up this morning and went to CowBoy’s and Birdie’s soccer games. There is something about that soccer field that really sets off my asthma.1 I quit taking them to soccer practice because I came home sick every time. Today was CowBoy’s last game and next Saturday is Birdie’s last game.
I [...]

Not afraid to beg

No, I am not. I am begging you my dear readers not to leave me. We’ve been extremely crazy here trying to get back on track with a decent schedule. All matters of life seem to be fighting against us and we are winning, but it remains a battle – daily.

We got [...]

What’s for dinner?

I hate it when my children ask me what’s for dinner. I despise it. Why? Because no one pays attention to the answer, only to the fact that some one asked a question that had the word dinner in it. So each little brain tunes in to that one single word and they wage a war against me each asking me one at a time only minutes apart, “What’s for dinner?” UGH! Why do they do this? I think it is to wear me down. Break me so they can tie me up and put on their Indian costumes and dance around me with tomahawks and yip and hoot like the Lost Boys and Indians in Peter Pan. When I get that question I often answer with something like, “Food”. They especially love it when I say something like “pickled pigs feet” or “hog jaws”. So when I am prepared (read organized) I love it when I have something in the kitchen for all of them to do – at least then they won’t be dancing around under my feet just getting in the way. That’s worse than the repetitive questioning.