as for that large bar of nestle crunch behind the spice jars on the topmost cupboard in the kitchen? the children can pry it from my cold, dead hands.

never tell your children you're making brownies.  there is no point in pre-heating the oven when there's no batter left to make brownies with.

a mother is her own worst critic.  no matter how selfless she deems herself to be, there's always a nagging afterthought that she hasn't done enough.  i try to contemplate on my own feelings of inadequacy by finding a quiet spot, accompanied only by the chocolate bar that i've succeeded to smuggle past the kids without getting detected.