Well, hello there. Thanks for stopping by to read my ravings. I know when I read someone’s blog, I want to know as much as I can about them (don’t wanna be readin’ some lunatic’s manifesto or anything.) So for all of you who are nosy bitches just like me, here you go.

The fine print:

I am a thirty-something working mom that lives in Baton Rouge (transplanted from Arkansas.)  I married the smartest and funniest man I’ve ever met in 1999. His brain and wit are what keep him alive most days. 🙂

All three of my children were born in a four-year time span. Yep, three kids in four years. My oldest (as he will be referred to in this blog) was born in 2006, the Girl was born in 2008 and Lil’ Man was born in 2010. Is it any wonder as to why I’m so bitchy?

I work full-time at a fancy, downtown law firm. I was hired as an Accounting Specialist but have recently been torn away from my department to be an Executive Assistant/Peon/Typist/Unhappy-Former-Accounting-Employee. It wasn’t a demotion nor did I do anything wrong. I still have the same pay, hours, benefits, etc. However, in my warped head and bitter heart, it is. I’ve lost all job satisfaction and a projected growth path I was excited about going down. For now it’s a paycheck but secretly, I cannot wait for another opportunity to present itself. For now, it helps pay the bills and honestly, is a much-needed vacation from my kids. It’s the only adult time I get other than the incoherent growls and sighs shared with the hubby after finally getting the kids to bed.

I love to bake. I try to cook. Sometimes I surprise myself by making an amazing meal. Although, it doesn’t matter if the heavens part and angels sing when I unveil my glorious creation, my kids are still going to ask for bologna or chicken nuggets.

I use foul language. A lot. Like a lot. Curse words tend to be more versatile than regular words and they definitely get your attention faster. To me, words are just words. Words only have power and negative connotation when you give it to them.

I have the weirdest “phobias” you will ever hear of. I CANNOT watch competition-type reality shows. American Idol, DWTS, The Bachelor, etc. It’s not because they are stupid (which I think most are;)  it’s because I get physically nauseous watching them. I kinda have a mini panic attack. I also can’t watch talent shows, auditions or open mic nights.  As nervous as I get, you would think it was me on the stage. It’s even worse when the person REALLY sucks. I immediately want to vomit. Also, and even weirder, bowling. Uh huh. I said bowling. Can’t do it. It’s not the shoes or fondling a strange ball (heh, I said ‘ball’.)  It’s kind of a competition thing, again. Thirty lanes of people can see you lining up, strut, swing and loft that ball right on over into someone else’s lane. Add in the fact that I cannot physically walk up to the line, aim, swing and release the ball in one fluid movement further increases my apprehension. I have to walk to the line. STOP. Aim. Swing. Release. And still get a gutter ball for all my effort. When you have to play like that, they are ALL looking at you. *puke*

There are many things from my pre-mommy life that I miss. In no certain order, they are: Sleep, silence, dancing, not knowing who the hell Calliou is, sleep, reading books, never having snot/shit/vomit on my shirt, vacations, sleep, disposable income, a living room that doesn’t look like Geoffrey the Giraffe threw up toys all over it, sleep and finally (and most missed of all) sleep.

So, yeah. That’s me. Anything else you want to know, read the blog. Feel free to comment and leave me your thoughts on anything I post here. I would LOVE to hear what you have to say. I promise to respond to every comment. You took the time to read my endless bitches, the least I can do is reply to show my gratitude.

Later Bitches!

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