Last night, after the hubs got home from work, we threw on our bike helmets - I have GOT to post a photo of me in my new, even more gooby pink helmet - and headed out for a family bike ride. We rode through the neighborhood to the path alongside the creek, and cruised along, ringing bells and fake racing.

At the halfway point, my son was worn out - the kid needs a new bike so he doesn't have to pedal like a madman to get around. I will say, though, that I woke myself several times last night by giggling as a picture of my red-faced son, pedaling furiously while wobbling down the path rode by in my mind. I took my son and headed home, while the hubs took the girls down a more circuitous route to the house. Even with the extra riding, they arrived five minutes behind us. They must have been flying.

We decided to take the family out to pizza. Why burn calories if you aren't going to immediately negate any effects with food, you know? (I'm actually midway through a 10 day exercise challenge over at BigSlice. I'm kicking assets, so the bike ride was bonus, throwaway calories. In my twisted mind.)

We ordered a large pizza. My son ate two slices. My daughters each ate two slices. My husband ate his usual four. And I ate four, too. I seriously thought my stomach was going to explode.

So naturally, getting some non-fat frozen yogurt was a good plan.

I was in so much pain last night, just praying for my stomach to settle down, or digest all that cheese, or something, ANYTHING that I sort of sat propped up on the couch and moaned for a few hours. And then I went to bed, waking only to crack up about my peddling son.

For penance, I woke up at 5:30 and got my workout out of the way. I've done a bit of writing and caught up on returning phone calls. My kids, not suffering under the weight of 4 slices of pizza, woke up springy and demanding.

They started gathering steam while I jumped in the shower, and my neighbors got treated to a caterwauling me wrapped in a towel ripping my kids a new one for deciding to ride bikes in the street while I washed my hair against SPECIFIC instructions.

The continue to simmer, bickering and knocking things over. They are not so happy, these kids of mine, because they want 110% of my attention. And I'm giving them about 60% right now.

I'm thinking I need to pack up a picnic and just get out of the house for an hour or so. Let them run until they puke, and then maybe they will settle down for a few minutes. Or five...five minutes would be better.