My youngest and I baked brownies last night. To prevent you from calling me June, let me make some things clear. I went Christmas shopping with my girlfriend. We left the house at 10:00 am, and didn't get back until 6:00 pm. See #84. She wore me out, but man, I made a serious dent in my shopping. I even scored a pair of overalls for my oldest (even if they are a bit too long) for $8. I love outlet malls.

Being the stellular, nutritious concious mom that I am, I made them macaroni and cheese for dinner, with a side of peaches. I wasn't even hungry. My feet hurt. I made my husband fend for himself. He pouts worse than the dog.

As you know, no dinner is complete without dessert. Dear God in Heaven, I didn't have anything. No cookies, no ice cream. Nothing. I'm surprised they haven't arrested me yet.

In an attempt to ward off a visit from CPS, I went digging through my pantry and found a boxed mix of brownies. Saints preserve me, I even had the eggs and oil required.

I love Duncan. He and I go way back. He came to the rescue once again. Betty does just as well, but, you know...she's not my type.

The girls both wanted to lick the bowl and spoon clean. How many of you can relate to this? As I was pooring the batter into the pan, they said "that's enough mom, leave some for us." Mind you, I'd only poored about 3/4 of a cup in the pan at that time.

It always amazes me. How licking a bowl clean (even if I give them a spoon) can leave a child looking like they dumped their whole entire face in the bowl. I was relieved to find out that brownie batter comes off with a little soap and water.

Guess that's why I make them take their shirts of first.