How to tell if you're a Stay at Home Mommy

There are some serious indicators i do not leave the house enough.  Here are some of them:
My evening nightcap is often a jagerbomb.
I start crafting Halloween costumes in May, but do not start Christmas crap until Dec. 23rd.   (Metrotown Mall on Dec. 23rd is a special level of hell, I assure you.  Much, much more so with kids in tow.  Hello, jagerbomb.)
My first meal almost every day is at 3:15 pm and it's usually crackers and cheese, or whatever the kidlets have for an afterschool snack.
Telemarketers are officially afraid to call me.  Haven't heard from one in months.
I have a huge to-do list everyday, and mostly don't do any of it.  I do have fresh lime-raspberry loaf right now though.  No, no pics.  I'm so lame.
I have like 8 gold trophies on Plants Vs. Zombies, because I'm so awesome.
I got to go for a mammogram yesterday and I was so, so excited about it!!  Yay Squishiness!!!  (FYI women, they feel like a million stinging wasps in your bra.  Not pleasant.  But the nurses were super nice.)
I'm really enjoying the books my children bring home from school.  For example, my son brought home a superhero alphabet book which included "W" woman, who is wet, wild, and willing.  Maybe not quite that inappropriate, but it raised eyebrows.  She was also "wonderful" to look at.  At least he's learning the alphabet?
I have started singing, because I am an extrovert and I need to hear voices, or I'll be hearing the bad kind of voices, and that benefits no one except JP Domino who can use me for a case study one day.  I suck at singing, am the polar opposite of every Disney "heroine".  Birds fly into windows on purpose when I sing.  I know this is on purpose because my windows are filthy and birds aren't that stupid.
I drink 2 cups of coffee every morning, then get jittery and panicky, then do yoga, then hurt myself and lay on the couch.
I'm too smart for the new fall lineup (2 Broke Girls? Painful. TerraNova? Write something new.) But I watch them anyway, because All My Children just finished it's million-year-run so Susan Lucci can peel off her flesh to expose a Hellraiser-type-Succubus in private.
When I get bored, I cook, way too much, then panic at the amount of food I have made and inevitably end up with a somewhat surprise dinner party of 11 and panic about that.

I have all the time in the world, but no time at all, it seems.  And that glorious napping thing I had planned on?  Not with this much coffee jostling for space in my veins.  Well, I have to run, the sewer guys are coming tomorrow and I'm going to bake them a cake.  (serious.)