Current Status: Certified Office Superhero (Cape is currently at the cleaners)

Oh. My. Goodness. If this week were a movie, it would be a high-stakes thriller involving folders, spreadsheets, and a very intimidating auditor.

​It all started on Monday. The ANAB Audit began. And let me tell you, "Audit" is just a fancy word for "Let’s see if we can make you sweat while you hunt for a document from three years ago." We were justifying everything. I felt like I was on trial for a crime I didn't commit (The crime of... filing?).

​But wait! Just as I was about to reach for the emergency Jacob Biscuit, the Plot Twist arrived. HQ called. Apparently, the utility bills are higher than last year. And because I am the Official Utility Officer (a title that sounds much more glamorous than it actually is), my boss asked for a full justification.

​The Deadline: Wednesday.

The Problem: The audit also ends Wednesday.

The Other Problem: I had to finalize the procurement for instrument spare parts by... you guessed it... Wednesday.

​By Monday evening, the Anxiety Monster was tapping me on the shoulder. I was looking at the clock, then at my to-do list, then back at the clock. It was a mathematical impossibility! But then, I remembered the Magic Words a wise person once taught me:

​"No worries. One by one."

​It’s a mantra. It’s a lifesaver. It’s basically a spa day for the brain.

​So, I put my head down. I dodged the auditors, I ran analysis like a woman possessed, and I fetched documents like a champion retriever. And today? On Wednesday? I DID IT. Procurement? Finished. Utility justification? Sent. Workout? Squeezed in! (My leggings are the only things holding me together right now).

​And the icing on the cake? My boss—who is, shall we say, a highly enthusiastic micro-manager—actually praised me! He was confident in my investigation. He trusted me. I’ve literally screenshotted the message and saved it in a folder called "Evidence of My Genius." It is my trophy. My Olympic Gold.

​There are still two days left in the week, but you know what? Those are "Future Me" problems. Right now, I am sitting in the glory of Day Three.

​One by one, ladies. One. By. One.

​The Mid-Week Victory Tally:

• ​Auditors satisfied: 100% (I think they were scared of my determined face).
• ​Micro-manager praises: 1 (Adding this to my CV immediately).
• ​Missing analysis worsheet (and my pen) found during document search: 2 (A secondary win!).
• ​Current Mood: Smug. Intensely, beautifully smug.

To strength, sweat, and showing up every day —

Finding power in motherhood and muscle

Weekly Goals: Operation Stay Alive for Small People

• The Undergarment Struggle: Buy a sports bra that doesn't require a GPS and a team of three people to help me get out of.

• The Green Challenge: Eat exactly one green thing per day. (Note: Parsley garnish on a pizza unfortunately does not count).

• The Stealth Jog: Attempt a "jog"—even if it is just running toward the ice cream van to tell it "No, thank you" (while sobbing internally).

• Strategic Hiding: Find a more sophisticated hiding spot for the "emergency chocolate" because the toddlers have officially cracked the code on the top shelf.

To strength, sweat, and showing up every day —

Finding power in motherhood and muscle

 

The Official Pros and Cons of My "Stay Alive for the Small People" Plan

 THE PROS (The Dream):

• The Spandex Aesthetic: I get to wear leggings all day and tell people it’s "activewear" rather than "I haven’t found my jeans since 2024."

• Superhero Status: My kids might actually believe I have superhuman strength when I lift them both at once without making that unfortunate grunting sound.

• The Glow: Apparently, eating greens gives you a "radiant complexion." (Currently, my glow is just sweat, but I’m told it evolves).

• Future Planning: Staying healthy means I’ll have enough energy to embarrass them at their 21st birthdays. This is a top priority.

THE CONS (The Harsh Reality):

• Kale: It tastes like a recycled cardboard box that once held a much nicer salad. Why is it so crunchy?

• The 6:00 AM Alarm: My bed and I have a very deep, committed relationship. Breaking up with it for a treadmill feels like a betrayal of the highest order.

• Mathematical Exhaustion: Trying to calculate "macros" when I can barely remember where I put my car keys is a cruel and unusual punishment.

• The Vegetable Standoff: It is very difficult to tell a toddler to "eat your carrots, they’re delicious!" while your own face is Twisted in a Mask of Pure Agony.

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Verdict: The spinach stays. The morning alarm is on probation. The kids are worth it (mostly).

To strength, sweat, and showing up every day —

Finding power in motherhood and muscle

Confessions of a Vegetable Hater (and Other Family Tales)

Current Status: Hydrated (if coffee counts as water), slightly breathless, and currently hiding a stalk of celery under a napkin so my kids don’t see me grimacing.

Let’s be honest. If life were a romantic comedy, I’d be the lead actress who gracefully jogs through the park in a coordinated spandex set, glowing with the radiance of a thousand kale smoothies. In reality? I’m the woman doing a "stealth-sprint" to the kitchen to hide the emergency chocolate before the toddlers stage a coup.

The truth is, I’ve spent years treating "salad" as a decorative garnish rather than a meal. But then I look at these tiny, chaotic humans I’ve created—who have the energy levels of a nuclear reactor and a strange talent for turning my living room into an Olympic hurdle course—and I realize: I need to keep up.

So, I’ve officially launched Operation: Stay Alive for the Small People. It turns out that being a "Healthy Mom" involves a lot more spinach and a lot less "sitting down with a biscuit" than I originally negotiated. I’m trading my hatred of broccoli for a chance to see these kids grow up, even if it means I have to learn what a "macro" is (is it a type of pasta? Please say it’s pasta).

Follow along for the snacks, the setbacks, and the sheer adrenaline of trying to live forever while fueled by lukewarm tea and pure maternal love.

Wish me luck. I think the broccoli is looking at me funny.

To strength, sweat, and showing up every day —

Finding power in motherhood and muscle