Kids

Everything has changed. I started out as a disgruntled doughnut girl. Not sure where my life was going...definitely not sure about where my life had been...unhappy with a good job that wasn't quite good enough. My life was fine, but not spectacular. 

So much has changed. I started this blog pre-kid. I was different. I was selfish. I thought I knew what mattered. I was wrong. 

Fast forward to 2015. I have two kids; the same husband; same place of employment; a new house; and a master's degree. I am still a glorified doughnut girl, but the master's degree has helped me move into more of a doughnut engineer role. I am still selfish. I'm not ashamed to say that I drive a mini-van. Sometimes I feel like a cliche and other times I feel like I'm just gliding down the path that my life has taken. It's ok. I'm lucky. We're all healthy and relatively happy. Our bills are paid, most of the time, and we still go out to eat on occasion. We still drink beer (me and the hubs) but we buy it in bulk at Sam's Club, just like our cereal and diapers. 

The thing about kids is that they change everything. I haven't peed alone in over six years. We have zero knickknacks in our home. I'm exhausted. I'm elated. I'm Mom. But underneath all of that, I'm still the same snarky, immature, and confused person that I always was. I just have less time to marinate on it. 

Pleasantries

Apparently, I require a pleasantry to start a conversation. Not every conversation. Just the first one, with you, each day. When I walk in to work at 7:55 a.m. you can't just start yapping at me. I require a hello, good morning, or even a hey. It doesn't have to be elaborate, but it has to be there. You can try to start your line of questioning without it. Go ahead. I double-dog dare you. But if efficiency is your goal, you better throw in a good morning. Seriously.

As always, there are a few caveats. If I am on fire, you may tell me so without the requisite greeting. If your foot is caught in a bear trap, you may request assistance without first asking if I slept well. Do you need to know where the extra paper clips are hiding? Then yes, you must offer the aforementioned pleasantry. Why? Because its just nice and the world need a little more nice.

If you are in a hurry, then you better hurry up and get the greeting out of the way. I do not intend to take up any more of your time than necessary. My time, actually, is much more important to me. I don't want to chat. I don't care about your drive to work. I just don't want to be barked at the moment we see each other.

If you think that you're moving the conversation along a little faster by skipping the greeting, you are wrong. Very, very wrong. Here's why. Without the proper greeting, I will stop. Sigh. Shake my head in disgust. Sign again. Tie my shoe. Possibly purse my lips and ponder the mistake. And then look in your eye and say, "Good morning." That's all. It's now up to you to start again with your line of questioning. Are you any closer to the paper clips? I think not.

Each day offers a new hope and that new hope starts with a cheerful greeting. You may say, "Good morning. Where are the f*$%ing paper clips?" I'm perfectly fine with that. I can roll with that.

Am I allowed this little eccentricity? Yes, I am. It's one of the few and I intend to hold on to it. Good day.

Frequency

Apparently I blog about once a year. I think it take a pending crisis to make me fire up the site and start typing. The posts have been at times in my life when things weren't great. Today is different. Today I am relatively content and I feel the need to try to get back to writing. I've been reading the blogs of other folks and truly enjoying them. At one time, I considered myself a writer. Truly. I could say it unabashedly. Now I don't know what I am. However, I seem to desire a label for myself. I'll try a few on...in pencil. When I'm more comfortable I'll grab a Sharpie (God, I love Sharpies).

Female
Girl
Librarian
Lover of Technology

Mother

Mom

Reader
Wife
Woman


Lover of alphabetization, although that was not realized until the list was complete. To refile it would seem in-genuine.

I want to be a writer. It feels good to write. To form the words is to create a sense of order and accomplishment. I will do better. I will try harder. I will write.

No thanks on the job

I love my job. I hate my job. I just want to stay home with my baby. Sure, everyone says it, but I really do.

Well, maybe I don't know what I really want. I have a great job, but it's boring. I get to wear jeans, tshirts and capri pants, but there is no motivation beyond the paycheck. Everyone here is pissed about something and it's getting old.

Donut Girl

Okay, so this morning I called and withdrew from the fall semester of college. I thought that I would feel better once it was done, but I certainly do not. It means that I'm not going to finish this degree and will owe the financial aid people even more money. It's depressing. It also means that I'll never be considered a professional and will continue to live my life as a degreed secretary and donut girl.

What is a donut girl, you ask? Well, I don't work at a donut shop. I work at a regular place like everyone else. For all intents and purposes, it is an office. That's about all you need to know. I have one college degree, but it's not doing me any good. I'm the lowest flag on the flagpole here. That's important to know. I'm also "assistant to the director." Let's make this very clear: I am not assistant director, I'm the assistant to the director. My official title is: Administrative Assistant. It sucks.

Therefore, everytime the director has a meeting with *important people* I have to be donut girl. I'm the one to pick up the treats (donuts, cookies, muffins, browines...), put them on a plate, make coffee, tea, ice water, etc and keep everything filled up all day. It's fun. It is definately what a person with a degree in public relations has aspired to.