Happy 30th to me!

So my 30th birthday has come and gone. It seems like everyone wants to slam the 20s as a bullshit decade. Maybe for some it was/is. However, I’ve spent the last weeks of my 20s reflecting on what my 20s did for me, good and bad. While I wouldn’t trade places with 20 year old Sarah now to save my life, I don’t think that the lessons I learned, in what seems to be the most spit upon decade ever, were truly all that bad. So in my true OCD fashion, I compiled a list of things I learned or realized in my 20s. Not too shabby of a decade, in my opinion. So here’s what I learned:

• I learned how to live alone.
• I learned how to truly be alone.
• I learned how to appreciate my parents for who they are now and who they were while raising me and how they are separate entities from me.
• I learned how to become my biggest advocate- with all things academic, social, medical.
• I learned the therapeutic properties of cheap wine, a good cry and a long phone conversation.
• I learned that “No.” is a full sentence and an appropriate answer that does not need an explanation or an apology.
• I learned how to assert myself & my needs and not feel like an asshole.
• I learned how I need/expect to be treated by family, friends, significant others, coworkers. etc.
• I learned that the size of my hips or boobs do not define me.
• I learned that some trends are better left unfollowed.
• I learned that I am not going to miss some world-changing event by staying home on the weekend.
• I learned that honesty is truly the best policy.
• I learned that life is tough and love hurts and I learned how to move past the hurt and find the good.
• I learned that a job title does not define me or hold me down.
• I learned that no one else is going to figure it out for me; to take a leap of faith, a jump into the unfamiliar, the unknown.
• I learned that my 20s were my battle phase and now I’d like to think I’m moving into maintenance mode.
• I learned not to judge based on how things appear- friends, jobs, dogs…
• I learned how to value a Friday night alone, rocking out and dancing by myself or reading a book.
• I learned that babies are not “just like dogs.”
• I learned that yoga pants are acceptable everywhere but in court.
• I learned that I hate yoga no matter how many times you tell me to “just try.”
• I learned that I can still be an amazing mom even though I was never (and I’m still not) a “baby person.”
• I learned that a marriage is more than a wedding, and a wedding is more about other people.
• I learned that my marriage is a team and everyone involved best be on the right team.
• I learned that I can (somehow) manage to function on 20 minutes of sleep.
• I learned to use my words and that words can either make someone’s day or tear their world apart.
• I learned that social media is a savvy name for personal P.R.
• I learned that the Stones were right; That sometimes you get what you need, not what you want.
• I learned to pick my battles and fight them both wisely and passionately.
• I learned how to say “I’m sorry.” and how to admit I was wrong. Neither is a sign of weakness.
• I learned to trust my gut. Always.
• I learned that I am way more capable and handy than I ever would have given myself credit for.
• I learned that even the finest laid plans deviate from their paths and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
• I’ve graduated and earned two degrees, neither make me more educated than those around me.
• I have rescued 4 rowdy ass dogs (and rescued 2 more that I found other homes for) and still feel guilty when I see the Sarah McLaughlin ASPCA commercial.
• I have experienced the joy and horror of my first pregnancy.
• I gave birth to a beautiful daughter that I would rather die than live without.
• I learned how to put others’ needs before my own as a standard of living.
• I learned that I have a chronic neurological disorder that will be with me every step of my life.

I also learned that every step of the way, I will have my person, my people. My husband, my daughter, my mom & dad, my friends that are the sisters I never had. So looking back on it all, through the tears, heartache, body aches and hangovers, I cannot say that my 20s were awful. This decade just barely passed has introduced me to the people I love the most and the person I’m most proud of, myself. Cheers, Sarah. We made it girl.

We got engaged!

Bachelorette party

We got married!

We started a family.

My everything.

Loves of my life.

Those days in which there doesn’t quite seem like there’s enough seconds, minutes, hours, breaths to accomplish everything that my arbitrary yet ever-present to-do list says I should do. I woke up with my heart heavy with a case of the shoulds, my head already aching with the have-to’s before my feet even hit the floor. Once my feet touched down, the frantic frenzy began. Everything had to be done five minutes ago and nothing was going according to my mind’s plan. Rather than taking a breath and calming the hell down, I kept up my frenzy, finding myself walking in hurried circles amongst dog bowls and tea sets. I couldn’t stop myself even though I knew all too well how days like this end- in a heaping, anxious, tired yet spastic clump of a woman. Me.

I do not feel better or more accomplished as the day draws to a close. Instead, I am choked up with guilt. That mom guilt that always resides somewhere in the pit of my stomach and rises up to take residence in my heart and I feel it physically manifest in my throat. Not even a huge gulp of my Rite Aid 2 for $10 wine can dislodge this lump of sadness, guilt, and regret from its new home.

I sit here and tell myself that tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better. Different. Is it still considered a lie if you’re telling the fallacy to yourself? I sit and think how tomorrow I will cherish the little things and not feel so hurried. That tomorrow I will say “Screw you to-do list! We’re winging it!” But I know that’s not true. And with me, it’s nearly impossible. It’s these moments that make me sit and reflect on the “bigger picture” and I have montages in my head of Nugget going to school, to prom, to college… And then I get pissed. At myself. At the way I am because I’m blowing it. Why couldn’t I just watch her play and set up a tea party with cupcakes for the Muttleys? Why didn’t I let her splash around a little longer in the tub? Why was I always in such a goddamned hurry?!

As it usually does, it all catches up to me as we approach “ni-ni” time. My voice catches as I tell her she makes me happy when skies are gray. Because she does. And she’ll likely never know how much I love her, but I want to live each day at least trying to show her an inkling of how much.

I’m making a promise. To her. To myself. To slow the ever loving hell down. I am not going to say “cherish every moment” because tantrums happen and I need not cherish those. But I want to be more present. Rather than rushing through my 500 lists of the have-to’s and the shoulds, I want to be able to shut that part of my brain on mute so I can truly be with her. I want to see things the way she sees them. I want to stop watching the clock whose second hands are deafening in my ears. I want to be in THAT MOMENT rather than my head being 30 moments in the future.

This will not be an easy task for me. I know that much is true. For a person like me, who is so Type-A, OCD & anxiety ridden/driven, it will take a physical and mental effort to stop the rush. But I’m here now saying I’m willing to try. Nugget may not hold these moments as memories s she gets older, but what happens when she does? I don’t want her to remember being rushed everywhere and through everything. I don’t want her to remember me as that. I want her to remember how I made up silly songs with her, our countless tea parties, dance parties, and bedtime snuggles. I have no control over what memories she will carry with her into adolescence and adulthood. But I can control my actions and thoughts starting now. I know I will mess up because I am human. I know, as any mother does, that the ugly-cry inducing mom guilt will always be in me, looking for an opportune moment to make its presence known. But for now, I choose to acknowledge my faults and to try as hard as I can to improve on them. This one’s for you Baby Girl. You are my sunshine.

Stopping to enjoy the sunshine

You are my sunshine