"Can we order pizza?" the kids ask for the umpteenth time. "I don't like meatloaf."

It's my own fault. I was the one who forged this ongoing relationship between the Papa John's delivery driver and my front door. It's partially a weakness for my favorite food and partially a lazy streak when it comes to cooking.

Luckily I have my husband, who relaxes at the end of the day with a Crown 'n' Coke and cookbook. The kids may not be too thrilled about eating...