Family Fitness Day! I'm so (not) excited!

Today is "Family Fitness Day" at Littleboy and Babyboy's school. I'm over the moon with excitement...really...can't you just feel it?

Don't get me wrong, I am all for encouraging these kids to move around, and alot of parents need to do some moving too, but honestly, do we all have to do it in front of one another? The three-legged race? I don't have appropriate, "work out in front of everyone" clothes for that. Not to mention the fact that I am, by far, one of the least-graceful humans on the planet.

Will I humiliate my sons if I do a lousy job? Will the kindergartners snicker behind my back when I go in to help them paint penguins on Thursday?

Please understand, I work out. Alot. In a gym that 1.) is women only, and 2.) is very supportive of women and all different body types, etc. Not alot of judging going on there, no one cares if you gained 10 pounds in the last 3 months (thanks, crappy thyroid), you have old sweatpants on or if you turn bright red in the face every time you work out. They know me there, they accept me, my ugly sweatpants and my red face. This is a totally different thing.

I always try to look presentable when I go to the school, cute t-shirt with the school motto on it, cute shoes that the little kindergarten girls and I giggle about when I go in...I can't look presentable if I'm wearing worn-out sweats, am extremely red-faced, and performing in a very non-graceful, non-cute sort of way.

One day my sons will look back on days like this and either a.) think their mom is a great sport who showed up at all sorts of school activities or b.) think their mom is a great sport who really should have invested in better workout attire...

Oh and hey! I just remembered, they are bringing in a photographer too...I think I just pulled a hamstring...

Sea Monkeys...a purchase you might regret...

Alright, so color me "unprepared" or better yet, color me "bad at doing research before I purchase Christmas gifts for my children that are going to end up being gross and/or a pain in my butt".

Littleboy asked for Sea Monkeys for Christmas.You've seen them, they've been around since I was young. (I could never understand why my mom wouldn't buy them...now I know.)  They come in a cute little package at toy stores, just look at how cute:

Little tiny tank, little feeding spoon. How adorable, how bad can they be? Right? Wrong.

Allow me to show you a couple more pictures...if you haven't eaten breakfast yet, let me just apologize now.

Sea Monkeys are actually brine shrimp...or some such thing. (Of course NOW I do my research on them. After Littleboy and Babyboy have their tanks thriving on the bathroom counter.)  Still, not too bad, right? Kind of cute and minuscule, no big deal.

But then there's this:

This is what you end up with, apparently. These suckers are breeding, and grow to 3/4 of an inch long.

I think I might just have to vomit. It looks like a tank full of swimming fleas, or bugs, omg, what have I done?

I work extremely hard to maintain tight border security between myself and the flora and fauna that live outside. And I've just shot myself in the foot.

These guys are going to come to some unfortunate demise before we get to this point. I'm going to start planning the assassinations now.  Maybe the "cat" will knock over the tanks while they are at school.  That might work, they'll still love HIM if he kills the seamonkey-shrimp-bugs...

I'm really needing a personal assistant...not "sorta" needing, not "wow, it would be nice to have one" needing...but really, truly, desperately needing a personal assistant.

Keeping track of one business, one household, one husband, four children and one pet (two, if you count the goldfish we are fish-sitting...he needs to eat, doesn't he??)  is pushing the limits of my brain memory storage.  Hubby will ask me things like "Do you remember that plan that we did, that we needed the signature on, back in September? What did we do with it?"  I do not know. The amazing thing is...he DOES know. He can remember things he did 4.7 years ago, who he spoke to, and what they said.  I can't do it.

How does a woman that God blessed with such a miserable memory get handed so much to do and remember? I've got to send in brownies for the teachers on Wednesday this week, get everything done this weekend so I can mail out 1099's to people we worked with last year, call the dentist to set up appointments for two of the four boys, and check on a Jeep we own that apparently prefers life at the repair shop to the comforts of our cozy garage. Not to mention, we have no juice in the fridge, are out of ibuprofen and canned cat food (he prefers to have both, wet and dry food, excuse YOU) and I think the dishwasher needs soap...

I need someone to stand behind me in the morning, with a clipboard and a calendar and say "Here are your lists of things you need to do today, Onegirl."  and then make sure I get it all done.

Instead I have this:

...and yes, you guessed it, one of those post-it notes says "BROWNIES WEDNESDAY!!".