Out of the Closet

I’ve been working on de-cluttering and organizing my life for the past few months. All the while singing the praise of my magical book. If you have had contact with me in the past 6 weeks or so, you’re probably sick to death of hearing about it. I don’t even care, I’m going to keep talking about it. The book has changed my life. Get the book!

 

I defiantly want to talk to you guys about my journey and how this book has changed my life. First, I want to show you results. This whole concept seemed so unrealistic to me, I actually became physically ill when asked to remove every last thing from my closet. The KonMari method starts with clothing. Probably because it is the least sentimental for most. Not me! My closet is my soul. Dressing myself, dressing others, it’s a part of who I am. The clothes that I keep just because they were gifts from buyers or designers. I earned them for doing my job well, just like a paycheck on a hanger baby. The picture is simple, it’s me on the floor of my walk in. An empty bottle of chardonnay in one hand, a vintage Vera Wang in the other. OK, it obvious I have real issues, but let’s move on to the before pictures.

My closet on any given day.

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The Breast of the Story

I belong to one of those neighborhood websites, as I’m sure a lot of you do. Well since I’ve been reading, The life-changing magic of tidying up, by Marie Kondo (you have to read this) my house has been in a state of constant purge. We are also undergoing a decent size home renovation that is fueling the purge as well. So, I’ve been selling lots of stuff on my neighborhood website. It’s cool because I make a couple bucks, and have meet some of my awesome neighbors. It’s actually been a very pleasant experience, until yesterday.
I’m not new to internet trolls. Rude people with rude comments about just about everything. I expect them on my blog comments, thus approval process. I see them on Facebook and such. I never expected a troll on a sales post, but here she was.

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Mom’s I just CAN’T with…

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.

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The Story I Never Wanted to Tell

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.

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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.

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That’s when it happened.

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I’m raising women here, OK?

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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.

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Table Transformation

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This is my biggest re-furb project to date and definitely the most involved. Usually with my furniture projects there is no pressure. If it works out awesome, if not, I just get rid of it. I’ve only worked on pieces that were almost out the door anyways. Here are some before pictures.

(A few notes about this set. It was sold by Ashley Furniture about 8-10 years ago, it has some solid wood and some composite. The top showed the most wear, as you can see below. The composite and laminate did not cause any problems with this project.)

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Holiday WINE down

It’s the holiday season, which basically means booze season. Now that we are adults, (well most of us) a handle of Captain Morgan is just not an appropriate take along gift. Whether you are hosting the party or a guest, some basic wine knowledge is helpful. We have all been there, standing in the liquor store, looking like a deer in headlights, wasting valuable drinking time, in attempt to find the perfect bottle of wine. Let me help you.

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