Before I became a mother none of these phrases would have come out of my mouth. Well, maybe like one or two but definitely not one a regular basis. Now I say this shit every day, usually multiple times a day. Sometimes when I hear myself I think “what the fuck happened to my life?” I’m sure you moms and dads out there can relate. Here are my weirdest:
Could someone please tell me what is going on this year? My children are sick way more than they are healthy. It’s like the cold, cough, flu thing is never going to leave my house. I literally Lysol until almost rendered unconscious. What’s the point? Why don’t we just re-name “pre-school”, breeding ground for every mild disease known to man-kind?
EVERY damn day it’s a new e-mail from the school nurse. Sometimes they come in multiple times a day. So basically, even when my kids are not sick, I’m paranoid by the next looming virus. Paranoia no more my friends. My nightmare has become reality.
ARTWORK – Yes, I love it. Of course, I see exactly what it is. It’s wonderful, I’ll keep it forever. You are an amazing artist!
Truth is, with the exception of the uterus painting below, I’m usually very confused by my kid’s artwork. Yes, I love it, but like 50 paintings or color pages a week is too many too keep. I’m throwing most of it away once you go to sleep baby.
Here are a few mom’s I just can’t be friends with. I like meeting new people and I try to be kind to everyone. However, making “mom friends” is tough, even for the super social. I consider myself a “cut your losses” kind of lady. I approach a potential friend and say “Hi I’m Sarah, would you like to drink wine and bitch about our kids”? If the answer is no, that’s OK. I just like to know where I stand. Before I developed this intense screening process for potential friends, I met the ladies below. You may know some of these gals as well.
I entered into our second viable pregnancy on the cusp of a miscarriage. I had miscarried before, so I was not new to the feelings. However, this pregnancy I felt relaxed. Maybe that was because I was already 7 weeks along. Yep, I had gone through two full periods all while carrying this baby. Basically, by the time I found out I was pregnant, I was out of the “danger zone”. Or at least the danger zone as I had known it.
The news was shocking to say the least. I was at my OBGYN’s office for a birth control RX. The previous miscarry had been a lot on my husband and I. We had decided to take pre-cautions until we were sure we wanted to try for a second baby. Ironic that this was the day I saw the baby I absolutely couldn’t live without.
No symptoms, no signs of pregnancy. A different baby, a different pregnancy. It was then that I learned, sometimes when a woman miscarries, her body will begin to ovulate “twice a month”. Often your cycle will continue through the first couple months of pregnancy. Lots of surprises that day.
Fast forward a few months and I’m feeling great. I’ve been relaxed and traveling. Spending time with family out of state. I got to announce this baby in person to so many people that I loved. Something most “out of towners” don’t get to do. Thanks to a new blood panel test, we would even know the sex in a few weeks.
I had secretly been longing for another little girl. I felt like I knew her all along. We shot our “announcement photo’s” with a little pair of pink baby shoes along ours. Even a picture of my husband digging in his wallet, lol. I held off on telling distant friends and social media until exactly 15 weeks.
That’s when it happened.
(An open letter to my dear Aunt Edna.)
Dear Aunt Edna,
I am writing you this letter because, I feel as though you don’t understand what I have tried to explain time and time again. Aunt Edna, this is why you may not spoil my children.
When I found out our first baby was a girl, I was thrilled. After almost two years of girl life, I wasn’t ready for that to be over. I silently hoped our second little bundle was a girl as well. Nothing made me happier than finding out I was going to be a girl mom again. Sure, I’ve had scary thoughts of teenage life with these two sweeties, but nothing could damper my happiness of raising girls. WRONG! O how wrong I was!
It’s not the drama, the attitude, the whining and crying. It’s the other girls. Apparently, we now live in some alternative universe where “mean girls” start in pre-school. Now, I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. I was prepared to counsel my girls through middle and high school bullying. BUT pre-school, are you F’ing kidding me? This isn’t going to be the post where I rant and rave about my daughter’s experiences with “mean girls”. This is the post where I make sure my daughter doesn’t turn into one.
Sarah’s Birth Plan
#1. Give me the drugs.
#2. Give me my baby.
The End
SlightlySarah 