I’m not sure why it’s so difficult to try and describe yourself when you have to. We all hit that writer’s block when someone asks you to “introduce yourself.” Ugh. This is particularly weird because I am probably one of the chattiest people you will ever meet. I’m that girl who goes into the bathroom and comes out having made three new best friends. I talk non-stop. About the weather. What I had for breakfast. What I think the couple’s “story” to the left of where I’m sitting is. When I last shaved my legs. I talk about every last one of those details. All the time. I’m a wife, a daughter, a sister, a crazy aunt, and a friend to even my Starbucks barista.
So, before you read any further I should clarify that I do not claim to be an expert nor am I accredited to give any parenting advice to anyone out there. I am however skilled in showing you the silver lining to pregnancy and motherhood mostly through my own shortcomings and mess-ups. My name is Sara, I am an eternal optimist, child at heart and clumsy frazzled mom. That’s right, I’ll admit it.
My top obsessions:
Free samples, magic tricks, bite-sized snacks, the sound of a kid really cracking up, the sight of a kid cracking up because of something I’m doing and will continue to do until they pee their pants, coffee, peanut butter, Greek yogurt, dads who wear their kid’s Hello Kitty backpack on their way to work, bread that’s soggy with freshly BBQ’ed chicken, any and every kind of music, Humans of New York FB page, pregnant women who continue to work out, the food network, street-side musicians, silly dancing, the smell of laundry, 80s and 90s playlists, dramatic nail polish, the beach, the words “serendipity” and “serotonin,” the smell of pine trees, people who smile while walking down the street, reconnecting with people from your past only to hear that you haven’t changed, boyfriend jeans, kitten heels, and Anne Lamott.
I’m allergic to:
Anyone who is rude to waiters, soup, dill, aggressive tones, “Debbie Downers,” uncomfortable jeans, onion rings, women who wear heels they can’t walk in, women who wear dresses they can’t breathe in (*I have done both), long nails, moms who roll their eyes at kids’ birthday parties, feeling cold down to the bone, worry lines, no tan lines, speeding on a highway, speeding through life, red roses because they’re cliché, Valentine’s Day because it’s cliché (*although I still expect some form of flower on February 14th).
So, here I am. Grab your glass of wine, cup of coffee, or detox juice and come hang with me. Get snuggly and stay a while because I’d love for you to experience pregnancy and motherhood through my eyes. Let me show you a bit of that magic we all need to get through the tough part. It’s not buried where you think it is…