Sarah

 

I’m Sarah.
The little sister.
Thirty-two.
Three boys.

Jamis is 8
Maximus is 4
Ethan is 2

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For all those many months I have wanted to write more. Start to paint that autobiographical picture for you. I want readers to get a sense of the me that is here in my running clothes, typing at 5 am, fretting over things like my About Page. This is the place where I’m supposed to tell you that I work outside the home. That I do all sorts of quirky little things. Like all sorts of quirky little things. That I’m not a fan of, oh let’s say tomato wedges in my salad. I prefer them cut into bite-sized pieces.

I finally wrote something. This is part of what it said. I’m still not satisfied but I’m afraid to delete it all because it means I appear blank again. I’m not. I’m just me. Sarah. The little sister. 32. Three boys.

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I’ve tried to do this.
A lot of times.
And now I think I just need to break it down.
It’s a novel, really. But just the facts please ma’am.
I’m not so very self-indulgent. But this sure could be a compelling story.
If I told it right.
But it’s my life.
It’s not a story.
There is no right.

And I don’t so very much wish to compel.
I just wish to share.
It’s what makes us US.

Human.
Women.
Mothers.
Mortal.

I’m a mom.
I used to be a mess.

When I got pregnant with Jamis, heads bobbed. Eyes blinked.
There was lots of this:
“Really? Wow, um, really?”
My two best friends looked at me in disgust.
My mother was bewildered by the two month delay in breaking the news.
Probably offended.
My friends already knew.
It ís safe to say I had no idea at that point how very important family was.
Not even after all that I’d been through. All that I’d put them through.

So nobody really did that “Oh how very exciting for you, congratulations” thing.
There was more of this:
“What the hell are you going to do oh my god you better pull it together!”

I pulled it together.
I did.
And here I am.

A survivor.
Of many mistakes.
Debilitating addictions.
Failure and flaw.
Life-changing Loss.

A champion.
Of gain.
Hard work.
Personal fortitude.
Motherhood.

I hurt for so long. I struggled for so long.
I wandered, aimlessly, abiding no rules.

And here I am.

As perfect in my Imperfect as a mother can be.
And sweetly content.

For today.

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Wait! Do you want the new and improved About page? With all sorts of pictures of me and my family? Everybody loves a good picture, right? And I promise a few of them. Well, then, what are you waiting for? I invite you to read The !!! of My Life. It is the perfect complement to what you have read here.