Know Thy Limitations

I can wrangle 100+ little kids, and get them to make music together.

I can give birth without painkillers (I can, not that I'd volunteer for a repeat performance.)

I can tease my hair up so easily that in 30 seconds I could play Ronald McDonald without needing a clown wig.

I can write a couple of damn fine pages on societal satire comparing Jonathan Swift and Matt Groening.
I can, for that matter, kick your ass in "Simpsons" trivia.
I can change a (girl!) diaper in 10 seconds.

I can walk up and talk to almost any stranger, pretty comfortably.

I can play Sur Les Cimes by Eugene Bozza on my horn, on a good day maybe even a little better than this guy. At least the good parts...(Props for standing up to play though, guy. Nice sound.)

I can say, though I'm understandably biased, that my husband and I have one of the best marriages around, period.
I can get most Kindergartners matching pitch in solo vocal performance, in six sessions or so.
I can calm my own kids down, make the mean-mom ballistic routine totally get results, or render my girls mute and hysterical, silently giggling at The Tickle Monster.

Why the egocentric bragging?

Sorry. I can honestly say I needed the shot in the arm.

Because I cannot make a decent grilled cheese sandwich to save my life. 

Multiple tries.

And it bugged the Hell out of me today.

That's all. Thank you. Feeling better.