My name is Annie. Most people call me Ann, but Annie is much more fun as long as I'm not expected to start singing "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow." You laugh, but when I was about four I made the life-altering decision to go by Ann lest anyone confuse me with the red-hair orphan blowing up in the 80's.
I used to have a big job. I worked my balls off to get that big job and used to really want it. It made me feel, errr, big. And I liked being in charge. Then I had a baby and while I still felt like a badass in the big job, I was certain my badass factor would plummet when I checked into my local insane asylum, the place I was spiraling rapidly towards whilst trying to do it all. So I quit my big job and now have a big job at home filled with VIP meetings whose invitees include Ellie the Blue Elephant and Lamaze the Dog.
This change of events has thrown me into a trite identity crisis. Who am I and how did I get here?
Stay-at-home mom? Barf. Worst title ever. Like worse than "Coordinator."
Mommy Blogger? I might not go into the office everyday, but I still know a thing or two about marketing and that descriptor is very limiting in scope. I do not want blogging myopia from the get-go.
Wife and mom? The house needs dusting, dinner is never made, and I am a walking game of "Where's Waldo" when it comes to spotting the spit-up. Domestic titles imply I am killing it on the homefront. I am not.
So for now, I am just a little tart sorting out this whole mess. Not a little tart with too much make-up and a proclivity to trade lewd behavior for dollars, but rather a little tart like a lemondrop. You know, just enough sour to keep things interesting but still make you pucker like it hurts.
If metaphors aren't your thing, just think of me as just another slightly witty, slightly acerbic bitch with a blog. I didn't go that route with my title because my research shows "Witty Bitch" is polarizing. And I want you to like me.
Welcome. I hope you stick around.