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.
A little backstory for this letter comes from a promise I made myself last year around this time. It sounds so cliche, but turning 30 used to really freak me out. Even two years ago I dreaded that number. 10 years ago I would have told you I’ll be lucky to even see 30. So last year on my 30th birthday I promised myself that 30 would be MY year. I was going to do everything that I had wanted to try, but was afraid to. I was going to make 30-year-old Sarah the best Sarah. In following through with this promise to myself, I had to do a lot of uncomfortable things. Reflect on my past self and really own the mistakes that hindered me from truly loving my present self. To say 365 days is enough time to accomplish all of that would be a lie. But, the first step is always the hardest, and self-reflection is a big bad jerk-off.
“To understand who you are; you have to understand who you’ve been.”
Dear 20-year-old Sarah,
I am your older wiser self, I beg you to listen to my advice, but I know you won’t because you are an extremely stubborn young lady.