My name is Marie. I’m married to the boy I had a crush on when I was 12. I refer to him as R until future notice. We already have 2 furbabies, Stomper “Poo Poo Monster” a JRT, Silky mix and Axl McGreasy a Poodle, Yorkie mix. Don’t let their size fool you, Stomper can knock you off your feet while Axl trips you.
Once a upon a time, I partied like a Rockstar, hung around with MTV VJs, sleazy media types, lame pop stars, drank too much, went to loads of free concerts, swore, cursed and watched too much porn.
I plead with my friends to go clubbing with me every 3 months or so. I still prefer whiskey and vodka to champagne and wine. I don’t get free concert tickets nor free CDs (I have to buy my own Britney CDs!) I haven’t got drunk since my fabulous Bachelorette Party which I still have plans to re-create. I haven’t gone clubbing in 2 4 5 years, I still dance in my living room and with my kids. I haven’t gone for a concert or a play, I feel rather uncivilised 🙂 I read Eric Carle most often but I do try and squeeze in a proper book now and again.
These days, I have a grown up job where I deal with the academia types and I tell you, most have egos larger than pop-star-wannabes. I mostly enjoy my work but I live for the weekends. I miss diving, wakeboarding and worshiping the sun. They were replaced with gym, little triathlons and running around with my husband, our tom-boyish baby girl & dogs. I even use spf 30 now… usually.
I love my family (even my in-laws), ma bitches, some of the people at work and I’m learning to go to church again, I never lost faith but when I can’t understand or relate to what the priest is mumbling on about or they starting bitching about anti birth-control issues, I get mad. I’m pro life personally but pro choice generally. I don’t wear fur, touch sharks fin or goose liver but I love a good steak. I believe moderation is the key to life but it’ll never stop me from jumping out of a plane.
Of course, I love my husband, he’s the best thing that has ever happened to me and I’m glad he wasn’t in the picture till I was ready. We met again when I finally figured myself out so I didn’t cause him too much grief. He’d disagree. I love him for his smile, the way he makes things right when I can’t deal with them anymore, the way he loves our puppies, his warp sense of humour, that he spells better than I do, that he’s half Chinese and his flat abs. I love him despite the fact that he can’t read a map to save his life, that his sense of direction is so bad I worry every time I’m not around when he’s parked the car. I also love him despite the fact that because of what he did, and DID IT AGAIN, I’m now gonna STAY fat and lumpy, my boobs hurt like a bitch and I may never fit back into my pretty old clothes ever again.
This is my Mommy blog. I was never a good example so please don’t listen to a thing I say or do… at least not without a pinch of sea salt. Then again, I think Rylen’s turned out pretty well and survived her
first second fourth year and Jordan her first third year.