HI. I'M JENNIFER.

I know a lot about three things: my work, books, and keeping babies alive. Other than that, I don't really know much.

Here's a bit about me.

I married my prom date. But not on prom night.

I have no words for the hair.

I refuse to wear name tags. REFUSE. I am a rule follower in almost every other circumstance, but name tags? I cannot abide them. . . even if they are on a cute lanyard.

I'm obsessed with the Enneagram. Six with a five wing. Holla!

I have an intense love for a juicy marker. The juicier, the better. SHARPIES FOR LIFE!

god.  country.  notre dame.  and headstands. — god. country. notre dame. and headstands.

I am raising four boys. FOUR. BOYS. Even the dog is a boy. I’m so outnumbered, I’m getting some hens just so we can have a little bit of feminine energy around here.

I love people. People exhaust me. Both/and.

My childhood goal was to become a naval aviator. Couple of problems, though. One, I have horrible vision. Two, I hate to fly. Three, there's that no sense of direction situation. That dream went the way of Goose in Top Gun.

Baking heals me. Baking pads my body with unwanted cushion. Both/And.

Yoga helps to remove the padding created by the aforementioned baking.

since I was a little girl, I'VE FANTASIZED about becoming a farmer's wife who bakes and cans and gardens and cleans all day. (I know. Weird.)

Too much Little House on the Prairie, methinks.

Now, I’m doing a version of that. I’m learning to farm.

I've also dreamed of being a writer.

AFTER DROPPING A WHEELBARROW FULL OF FEAR, I’M STARTING TO LIVE OUT THAT DREAM.

Unpopular Opinion Alert:

I'm not a dog person.

In fact, I only like dogs that I like, and that list is VERY SMALL. It includes my dog and exactly EIGHT OTHER DOGS, both living and dead. If I don’t know you, dog, I don’t want to know you. Unless you are a LEASHED golden retriever or springer spaniel, steer clear of me, dog. I do not want to be your friend.

DISCLAIMER: I have some dogs for which I am FOND. You know who you are. I also have no problem with friendly dogs greeting me when I arrive at someone’s home. Just please don’t eat me.

I am notoriously bad at directions. Even if I’ve driven somewhere a dozen times, my boyfriend Google Maps will have to hold my hand and take me there. I'm not ashamed.