I’m the second oldest of six children, and before you ask how that was growing up, I’ll tell you. No matter what one of us did wrong, there was always another sibling to screw up worse in a day or two. So no one was in trouble for very long. 

I’ve given up biting my nails unsuccessfully since high school, or more accurately, the past 22 Lents. 

I once did the math, and realized that if I make dinner most nights until my youngest is 18, I will have cooked 8,625 meals—not counting breakfast, lunches, and snacks. I am not sure why I need to know that number, but I am am keeping it in my back pocket as a drop-the-mic moment with my future teenagers, as in “Oh yeah, well I cooked you 8 thousand meals. When was the last time you did 8 thousand of ANYTHING?" 

I am admittedly and proudly in the process of projecting all my childhood "wish-I-would-have-accomplished-it" onto my children. "You will learn Spanish, and tennis, and piano, and you will LIKE IT!"

I have a child who was a bad eater, I have a child who was a great eater. I have a great eater who became a bad eater. I have a bad eater who became a great eater. My two oldest sometimes sneak into our pantry before I wake up, close the door behind them, and eat marshmallows in the dark. We're working on that.

My ice cream choices reflect that of a 78 year old woman. Yes I would love a scoop of butter pecan, thank you very much. 

I kickbox twice a week, or three times if I’m lucky. After mornings spent cleaning up crumbs off the floor and diffusing fights among my kids about whose shadow is bigger (I mean seriously?), there’s nothing more soul-satisfying than launching a flying front kick onto a heavy bag. 

Admittedly, I am that annoying mom at the park who shows up with apple, slices, baby carrots, and plain popcorn, while the more popular moms come carrying bags filled with Oreos and Doritos. When the cool food moms arrive, you won’t find kids (mine or otherwise) crowding around my picnic blanket begging for the last baby carrot. But even though I bring the healthy stuff, I don’t mind if my kid eats one of your Oreos. Sweets are part of life too!