It's time to compose a frequently asked questions list for the handful of you who read this blog.

Q. ARE YOU REALLY A LUNCHLADY?

A. Unfortunately, I really am. Sometimes I think back to when I was at an age when all things seemed possible and remember that I too thought I could be both a backup dancer for Paula Abdul and an eye doctor. Then I realized that I can't dance and they don't let people who suck at science and math become medical doctors. That being said, as a lunchlady, I have danced backup at many an iRoar assembly and I have been first on the scene when random eyelashes land in random eyes. So I guess you could say that I am sort of a backup dancer/eye doctor/lunchlady, which sounds kind of cool.

Q. DO YOU REALLY WRITE ABOUT SPEED HUMPS?

A. Again, an unfortunate truth. Along with touring with Paula, I had great plans for writing a book. Turns out that unless you sort of know someone who knows someone getting a book published ain't all that easy. The newspaper, however, seems to go through "stringers" like most people go through tissues. A stringer is a fancy term for someone who strings the story together. In other words, you write it, they edit it, you okay it and then, if you are lucky, it runs in the paper. Stringers freelance for the paper and are not staff. Instead of writing fiction, I get to write about things like speed humps, press boxes, driver's ed costs and superintendent raises. The topics might be a little unusual, but my name is in the byline. Published.

Q. ARE YOU REALLY THE SIZE OF AN AVERAGE 7th GRADER?

A. This is false. In fact, most 7th graders are significantly bigger than me. I am the size of an average 5th grader. I am 5'2 and sadly that is all the taller I am going to get. My grandma never broke 5 foot and managed just fine. Of course, height is one of the contributing factors in my failure as a back up dancer. That and the fact that I don't have any rythm.

Q. BECAUSE OF THE ABOVE, DO YOU NEED A BOOSTER SEAT TO DRIVE?

A. Technically, this is likely true, but since I meet the weight requirements it seems like overkill.

Q. DO YOU EXPECT A LOT OF PEOPLE TO READ AND COMMENT ON THIS POST?

A. Of course. Every day, I continue to expect Paula Abdul to call and offer me work. I expect that at any given moment I will be given an honorary doctorate for something--what I'm not sure. I expect that someday a library book will have my name on it next to written by. I expect, but am not hopeful that I will be taller than one of my children. I expect one of you to send me a booster seat as a joke and I expect all 5 of you to leave me some comment love.

Of course, I have been wrong in the past.

This post was brought to you by writing prompt genius Mama Kat whom I am certain has a lot more comment love than I do and I blame it all on the fact that she is significantly taller than me.

When I was pregnant with my first child, my husband and I discussed at great length the pros and cons of my staying at home and not returning to my legal secretarial job.

It was a job I somewhat enjoyed. Like any job it had its good days and its bad days. My boss at the time practiced family law and one can only stomach so many divorces, so many custody battles and so many paternity suits.

To be honest, part of me wondered what I would do all day with an infant.

Part of me thought I would be bored out of my mind.

With much reluctance, I gave up my office manager position and told my boss that I would not return.

My baby was born less than four days later. I was overwhelmed. Hubby stayed home for the first week and then he got to leave. He got to take an uninterupted shower, get dressed in nice clothes and leave. He didn't have to figure out why she was crying, he didn't have to change diapers or always have lunch alone.

Oldest was born in February so sometimes it was days before we even could leave the house.

It was sooooo lonely. I thought I would loose my mind. When oldest was about four months, I joined a playgroup. Some of those moms became my lifeline. They understood what I was going through. They understood how I felt.

Many of them remain my friends.

I started to enjoy my baby. She was becoming more of a little person, she was showing her unique personality. The years started to fly by. Soon I was chasing a toddler and dragging a infant to library story time.

Flash foward two more years and our son arrived, completing our family.

Oldest was four, middle was two and youngest G was new. Four, two and new. It seems like yesterday.

I was overwhelmed. I was never bored. I was never alone.

I remember trying to grocery shop. Oldest is trying to ride on the end of the cart, middle is fighting her for position. I offer to push around one of the stupid car carts. Youngest G is playing with his own hands in his carrier.

Middle tells me in a loud voice that when she grows up she is going to be a garbage man so she will always be able to hang on the side of the car. Oldest says, "When I grow up I am going to do nothing, just like you, mommy."

At first it felt like she had hit me, but then I realized that nothing would please me more because, lets face it, whether we stay home with our kids or not, having a child changes everthing.