In Which I Try Not to Be Arrogant

Part of the adoption homestudy stuff is that Matt and I have to write our autobiographies. Relatively simple, right? I mean, who knows me better than me? But this isn't some quick, easy, tell us about you type stuff (like just about every English paper I had from 6-10th grade. Which is kind of pathetic, really. While other, smarter, classier private school kids were translating the Iliad from Latin to English and then to creole for extra credit, I was penning my very boring memoir ad nauseum. It was always entitled 'About Me' but I could've titled it 'The Life of An Average Girl in Suburbia who Wears Slap Bracelets And Watches Way Too Many Episodes of Full House.")

Now I'm wondering what the rule is on how many words you can technically stuff into parentheses. Somewhere, my 8th grade grammar nazi of an English teacher is choking on her Metamucil.

So the autobiography. This one isn't just 'Tell us about yourself.' It comes with an outline. Like with bullets and all. There's about 400 questions including your BMI (so what if I added a few inches to my height? I could be wearing high heels) and the length of our courtship before marriage. That's right. Courtship. Like we were really sophisticated and mature.

Matt just sat down and typed it all out in one sitting. It's even slightly funny. His section on his personality is perfect. Lists his good characteristics without sounding full of himself. It's well-written. It's a perfect blend of honestly and humor. It ticks me off.

Whenever I try to write that section I either downplay my positive characteristics to the point that it looks like I shouldn't be trusted to keep potted basil alive (which is probably true) or I sound incredibly narcissistic - I'm the most awesome person you'll ever meet! I was the VP pick before Palin! Chuck Norris has me on speed dial!

So how do I make myself sound good enough without being too good? I'm not sure but as it turns out, the actual definition of awesome is to inspire awe. That may be overstating it a bit.

I'm thinking about using one of those middle school papers. "I really love jello. Jello makes me happy. I want more jello." I think I could swap out jello with children and voila! There's the paper.

It's hard to speak of my glowing parenting skills when my baby has had cheerios and goldfish the entire morning. Instead of the organic quinoa and broccoli casserole he normally has. Cheerios and goldfish! Like he's carb-loading for a marathon. Oh and when I apply temporary tattoos to my kids before sending them off to VBS. I'm probably on some sort of list now and I can expect a visit from a committee to 'see how we're doing.' That list is titled 'Unfortunate Children of Heathen Parents.' Hey, at least I put the happy butterfly on her ankle instead of her neck, like she originally wanted. That would bump us up to number one on that list. And get us a red circle around our name.

I'm off to write that bio. I'll have the dictionary open for synonyms of 'slightly above average parenting' and 'not quite mediocre.'

It will be phenomenal.