At least I try.

I decided to make the Boy Terror some healthy muffins. He's turning out to be a bit of a picky eater, yet still manages to be the largest, heaviest child ever.
I started out by buying all kinds of crap that normally would never be found in my kitchen. I got wheat germ, rolled oats, pumpkin, and even low sodium baking powder. I dug out the blender. I sprayed the muffin tin. I separated eggs, blended and pureed, measured and stirred. I used more math in an hour than I've had reason to use in the last year. I made a total mess of the kitchen. Eventually, the goods were in the oven, the house smelled like pumpkin and spice, and I felt very proud of myself.
20 minutes later, the smoke alarm was wailing, Girl Terror was screeching and hiding under a crib, smoke was billowing from the oven.
After all that work, I produced a dozen lumps of charcoal with a soft, raw pumpkin center. I'm thinking that tomorrow, I will hand the kids each a PopTart and tell them "The box says it has 9 essential nutrients. Eat up."