A Brave, New World

I quit my job.  The one that pays actual dollars and cents, not the one that involves caring for and loving three snuggable, but filthy boys, one condescending cat, and a loyal dog who literally eats shit (I can't even).

It's been a slow roll to this momentous occasion in my life.  T and I met while attending university (ooohooo doesn't it sound so pompous when I say it like that?!) where we were both lucky enough to be receiving monetary support from our lovely, kind, and generous parents.  Once we graduated we both got the boot, and I was the bread winner for the first few years of our relationship.  T lollygagged around and got another ridiculous degree.

The first day of training for my first big girl job!

The first day of my first audit.  Way less "Wolf of Wall Street" than I had imagined.

My old office, plus it's awesome view

We then shared the load for another year or so, until we found out that the Box was on the way.  I then decided to go remote and part-time.  That was about three years ago.  Since then, I have been saying that I am a stay at home mom, but as of January 30th, it will be a complete truth and my new reality.

The job has served as an escape of sorts, and was the last real tie I had to the working girl who could have been.  Let's be honest though, working is kind of a pain in the ass.  I would much rather be doing Pintrest projects, working out, volunteering, scheduling playdates, cooking for bake sales, rearranging my linen closet, reading, scrap-booking... oh, the list goes on for sooooo long...  Most importantly, I have dreamed of dedicating myself completely to the love of my own little family since I was pint size.  Now, here I am with the opportunity to do so, and I am grateful for it.  (I'm looking at you, T - you wonderful, loving, faith-filled, hunk of man.)

So, I say to hell with the dollars and cents and hello to happy, full, blessed days of mopping up spilt milk, drying tears, applying kisses to little bumps and bruises, and doing all those things that only a mommy can do, and doing them full-time.

......

You thought I was done, didn't you?  But aren't you at least a little curious about my shit eating dog?  Well, I am sad and disgusted to say that I am actually being very literal.  Remember how I told you that that Box is potty training?  He had an accident.  In the backyard.  Rory, who is not remotely close to being a starving dog, ate the accident.  *Vomit*