I had today planned out so nicely in my head: pack up my well-behaved, clean children and head to their favorite, never-crowded playground where we would put our $5 Little Caesar's pizza and drinks on the huge picnic table, and the wind would not blow our napkins away. But the 80% chance of severe thunderstorms called for 100% change of plans and we decided to make today a baking day.

I make banana bread frequently since I always have rotten overripe bananas around. The kids like to take turns putting the ingredients in the bowl, and more often than not they disappear until that magical moment when they get to lick the beaters clean. I have a rich fantasy life: in my imagination I have a clean home, kids with impeccable manners, and we have way more fun than everyone else. The upside to my sleep-deprivation is that it allows me just enough crazy to actually convince myself that this is halfway true...call it self-preservation!

In my head we have two loaves of bread-one for daddy to take to work and another for our breakfast tomorrow morning. My smiling children happily help me and do not fight at all. We all laugh together and after the bread bakes we sit with hot chocolate and watch the rain and no one spills anything. This is what really happened:

• I got the bowls and ingredients out and pulled a chair up to the counter so the kids could reach to "help". (After this part, it's all a blur, but Ill do my best...)
• Luke was standing at the sink (see previous post to read about his obsession with washing dishes). He was entertaining himself peacefully while the older two were getting ready to bake.
• They ambushed me. I know it was an ambush and not a series of unfortunate coincidences because it was too masterfully orchestrated.
• At this point Sarah must have given the imperceptible signal because in one instant Luke dumped a cup of water on the floor-he had backup cups ready to go because they kept coming one after another.
• As copious amounts of water flooded the floor my cat-like reflexes kicked in and I turned off the water and removed Luke from his battle station.
• My finely-tuned danger-radar alerted me to possible follow-up attacks and I spun around in time to see Patrick flinging my spices from the cabinet. Sarah was beside him, furiously scribbling the bottoms of my loaf pans with black marker.
• I went ninja on them and smacked their behinds before they knew it was coming. (Not to worry-if you think this can't be done, rest assured that with the dedication and sheer determination, you too will be able to spank multiple bottoms at one time.)
• Three hours (NOT including clean-up) later we really did have two yummy loaves of banana bread.

It was over as quickly as it started and they retreated to the playroom to plan the next ambush play with their toys. I started to let my guard down and relax a bit, even enjoying the moment...the smell of the loaves baking...the wind blowing the impending rain scent in through the open windows...and just how lucky I am to be able to take in moments like that.

We had two truckloads of firewood delivered (we like to light many fires during the winter). When the couple showed up to unload it in the carport Bonnie & Clyde (better known as Sarah and Patrick) morphed back into the heathen children they like to be in front of other people. I have spent many hours trying to figure out why they do that to me, but I have never come up with an answer. At first they just sat in the doorway, watching and talking between themselves. Then...they morphed. They started fighting like two starving dogs over one steak. I looked at the firewood people, rolled my eyes, and said in a hushed, secretive voice, "I can't wait till their mom comes to pick them up." I know, I know. But it was just one of those things...I blurted it out before really thinking about it. I'll do better tomorrow.

This was quite possibly the worst bread-making experience to date.