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.
Once again Christmas card season is upon us. I mean, can we call it a Christmas card? Do we have to call it a holiday card? I don’t know what to call it, but I do know I’m late. My social media feeds are already packed full of adorable family photos which will inevitably become Christmas cards. I have yet to even schedule a photo session. I’m just not into it this year. Usually my Christmas cards are my pride and joy. This year there is a good chance it might not even happen. Let me tell you why.
First of all, this year has been so cray! Every day it’s something. It’s dance class, pre-school, therapy, holiday parties, birthday parties, doctors’ appointments, grocery store, not to mention someone in this house is always sick. We are off of all official kid activities this week, and I’m trying desperately not to leave the house. The last damn thing I want to do is dress my family and drag them to a photo shoot. Also, my photo shoot joy was trampled by my husband this year.
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.
I started this investigation for myself and after everything I found, I have to share. The fact of the matter is I don’t just want to be able to defend myself, my kids, and my home; I don’t want to ever be in the position where I have to. My goal is to get you guys protected, so you don’t have to defend.
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.