Vitamin D and Caffeine, that's what little girls are made of.

The kids came down this morning and wanted pancakes. So I pretended I was awake and made them some. I feel funny about giving them pancakes. It always feels like I'm just feeding them starch and sugar. Now, I'm fully aware that more than half of it by weight is actually milk and eggs, and the flour is stone-ground whole wheat, and half the time I can trick them into using the lightest smear of syrup, but I still feel better when I make them vegetable soup.

Then we did some stuff until noon, but I honestly can't remember what it was. Which worries me a little, but it's been an active day and I'm a little tired, so I guess it's okay. Then, trying to get outside, I realized I'd have to either feed them first or g t some crap food out. So we made chicken-fried steak, fried potatoes and broccoli, with carrot flower garnishes (thanks, DZDiva, for the link on how to make those). [Damn, this memory lapse really makes it look like all I do all day is obsessively cook. Then again, maybe that;there's something to that.]

Finally got out, after the usual false starts (the 2-year-old has learned to stop at the door on our way out, say, "I f'got somefing!" and run back into the bedroom, pause just inside the doorway, then run back saying, "Okay, let's go!")

Today was 69 and mostly sunny here in the Bronx. The first time in a long time the kids were out in short-sleeves and no jackets. We went to the park a few blocks away, which boasts a number of playgrounds, and I informed the them, "Your job is now to go have fun!" Which they did. The climbed, swung, and slid. We collected moss and the 5-year-old read signs with remarkable ease.

And we played the Swing Game, which basically involves me getting annoyed at the 5-year-old and yelling at her to "Go away and STAY AWAY!" while pushing her away on the swing. (See, it's a swing. So of course she comes back. They find such absurdity hilarious.) I get angrier and angrier, eventually deciding to just "Go far, far away, so you'll NEVER SEE ME AGAIN!" -- which involves loudly and dramatically wandering out of the swing area, around it and in through the other entrance. Then I dramatically pace back and forth with my back to them, proclaiming how relieved I am to be so far away from those rotten children. I then wander close enough for one of them to touch me, whereupon I whirl around just as she swings back; this goes on or several minutes of hysterical laughter. Always the highlight of the park trip.

A glorious time. The kids and I are soaking up the sun and fun. Then a problem arises. See, we like the 2-year-old to nap around noon, noon-thirty, maybe 1 p.m, though even 1:30 p.m. is acceptable. If I'm pressed, I'll let it happen at 2 p.m. The thing is, see, the later she naps, the later she wakes up refreshed, the later she stays up at night. Today she did not nap at 11, at noon, or at 1. Then, at the park, around 4:00, she starts snuggling against my shoulder and burying her face in the crook of my neck in that maneuver I know so well. It's the sleepy-toddler's equivalent of the horny-dude's exaggerated yawn at the movies that results in an undone bra. Dah-dee says "No way, little stinkface."

This does not sit well with the stinkface in question. She begins to do the sort of crying I do when she gets me up at 3 a.m.; "NNnnnnnoooo... e-HEH! e-HEH!" Well, I was taking them to the corner store to get some water anyway, so maye that will wake her up. The stinkface, once there, demands soda. e-HEH! e-HEH!

Now, she LOVES soda, loves it like a bear loves bear-heroin, but normally she does not get soda. She gets water or milk. When it can't be avoided, as when someone else at the table has soda, we give her a tablespoonful in her water or milk and cheerfully say "There you go!" and she has not yet caught on. But now as I'm forming the words "Now, we're getting water," a change comes over me. A Decision is Made.

It was like on TV, when someone has a sudden epiphany at the last minute and completely changes the plan and everyone else freaks because It's Sheer Madness, but it turns out he suddenly realized it was The Only Way.

I say, "Okay, soda it is." And I buy a 20-oz. Pepsi. A non-diet, sugary, CAFFEINATED Pepsi. And a tiny box of raisins. (She loves raisins. Loves them like a bear loves... well, raisins, probably.) And as she spends the rest of the afternoon with the opening of that bottle vacuum-sealed to her mouth, I think, "This better work."

Well, it does. She makes it home. Makes it until Mommy gets home (late). Makes it through enough of dinner that when she finally passes out (in the crook of my neck), I am satisfied that she wouldn't wake up at 3 p.m. and moan, "Fooooood!"

I invite the ex over for dinner and to watch Run Ronnie Run (in brief: I love this movie). Having some shredded veggies on hand, I opt for beef stir-fry; a little cliché, so I liven it up with more carrot flower garnishes. Don't worry sir, the dead horses like it when you beat them.

And here I am. She took the kids tonight so she can go to a meeting tomorrow. And I have work to do. And emails. And cleaning up from dinner. And sleep.

I'll work it all out somehow.