The devil wears a Kroger manager's special sticker

Yes.  Yes, he does.  Some weeks, these stickers are budget savers.  My eyes are trained to spot these suckers from at least 50 yards away.  I really do love a good manager's special.

So, imagine my elation when I spotted one in the cooler at the bakery.  And no, it wasn't on one of those awful black forest cakes (sorry if you like those...but gah-ross).  Nuh uh.  This sticker was on the holy grail of desserts.

Cheese. Cake.

$5.99 for a little circular nugget of happiness.  I nabbed it and could not wait till the kiddos were out for the night.  I had a date with the cheese cake.

I pulled it out of the fridge, ready to cut myself a nice, healthy slice (ha!), but what catches my eye but the stinkin' nutritional facts label.  Gag.  Seriously.  Gag me.  29 grams of fat for 1/8th of the cake!?!?

I'm sure that most folks are already aware of this egregious number, but I don't usually buy a whole pre-made cheesecake.  My mother-in-law occasionally supplies me with a luscious homemade, un-labeled cake, or I usually order it in a restaurant...where it is served in gloriously over-sized portions, and is, once again, un-labeled.

I cut my slice, slowly devoured it, and fought the temptation to up my 1/8th serving to 1/4.  I triumphed.   This time.

Here's a quick glimpse into my kiddos' lives over the last few days.

Cade sprayed about .7 of an ounce of Lacoste cologne on his shirt the other night while he was supposed to be brushing his teeth.  Doesn't sound like much cologne?  Just check out how many ounces are in your bottle.  It's a lot.  I've sent this pj top through the wash twice.  It'll still knock you out if you get within 5 feet of it.

Eve has worn out the spot of carpet next to the wall which is her "time out" spot.  The terrible twos have hit.  Hard.  Tonight, in the few minutes it took me to change out the clothes from washer to dryer in the laundry room which is directly across the hall from the bathroom, she managed to dump an inch of water on the floor.  Literally, an inch.

It makes me eager to have a little Post-it baby (not sure where I heard this term, but I'm adopting it) for a while.  Stick em' somewhere and they stay.  They don't douse themselves with cologne or rot the subfloor with bath water.  Maybe little Trek will rub off on his older siblings a bit.  Unlikely, but a gal can hope.

Now, I'm about to indulge a little more (as if a 29 grams of fat slice of heaven weren't enough) with a $5 bottle of nail polish and an episode or 3 of New Girl on Hulu : )