In the Kitchen...

I still cook dinner for my family.

I do.

You might not believe me since I haven't written a What's For Dinner post since March 22nd.

I checked.

Well, I don't have a menu for you this week either.

I'm going to remedy that next week.

But until then, I figure we could just hang out here, in the kitchen.

My children are eating me out of house and home.

I think I say that every summer. With good reason.

I'm telling you, they eat all.day.long!

I need a grove of fruit trees to keep them full.

And an endless supply of Life cereal and tortilla chips.

Other beginning of summer observations:

A schedule is a must.

We spent last week loafing.

I realized very quickly that if we (I) were to make it to fall with our (my) sanity, loafing would have to have its allotted time slot in the day.

Popcorn, watermelon, and cantaloupe is a perfectly acceptable lunch.

Grilled (soy)cheese with a side of strawberries is a well received dinner.

For those still in the single digits age-wise, that is.

Who am I fooling? I'm down with it, too.

Although, my breakfast of lettuce, tomato, and hummus on wheat is not met with the same enthusiasm.

The Mr. thinks we are all nuts.

The Boy having another kid to play with across the street has blessed my life in ways I never knew possible.

This is a new thing and I'm a little scared to acknowledge how wonderful it is. But it is. Wonderful.

He goes over there and plays...for hours. They ride bikes, skateboard, run, trade Pokémon cards, play Wii, and other such boy things.

The key is, he goes over there. Not here. There.

Not that I care, but The Boy says that since this kid is allowed to have a messy room, it's better.

I knew my OCD would have some dividends.

We go through a lot of toilet paper in the summer.

You're welcome, Charmin.

The news is no longer safe to watch with children.

The word "wiener" would have brought giggles from my children even without today's current events.

I feel like I'm living in a Beavis and Butthead episode.

"Why do they keep saying...hee, hee...wiener?

Added to the mix: our youngest kitty was recently "fixed".

The Boy: But what's broken?

The look of horror upon The Boy's face when learning our little meow-meow's fate is one I'll never forget. I doubt he'll forget, either.

I've had enough of the male anatomy.

It's one week in.

That's what I know.

But with that knowledge comes a couple of cold beers at the end of the night.

Sweet relief from the feeding, scheduling, playing, noise, toilet paper replacing, and wiener talk.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring?