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Guilt has always been a motivating factor in my life. Seriously.

For example, let’s say I want to skip a family event… I don’t have to question whether or not I’ll feel guilty because I so, so will. I have to ask myself how long will I feel guilty. I’m OK with anything less than 48 hours of guilt. Anything higher means I can’t skip the hypothetical family event.

Enter mama guilt.

When I’m at work, I feel guilty I’m not home with Franny. When I’m home with her, I feel guilty I’m not at work. Don’t get me started on the guilt I feel over the pugs not getting as much attention as they deserve. Don’t worry, they still run the show but just with less walks.

Does it get better or at least a little bit easier?

Because ohhhmyyygoddd people, there’s nothing stronger. I wish I could bottle it up and get my loved ones drunk off mama guilt. WAIT, forget my loved ones. I’d open a fucking club and make billions.

My due date is 58 days away. I’m so ready for this to be over; pregnancy is definitely not my favorite stage in life.

That said, I’m incredibly excited to meet our daughter. Our daughter. OUR DAUGHTER. I have to keep repeating that, because it just doesn’t feel real. Sure, I can feel her kick… um, constantly. Yet, my mind is having trouble grasping that this is a human and not just some freak medical condition that will just magically go away and not produce a human.

You guys, a daughter!

I am going to be in charge of raising another human being. The universe allowed that. MIND. BLOWN.

I helped a boy find a pug.

Two years later, the same boy found me.

The rest of the story? I can’t wait to find out.

I haven’t just been absent here.  I’ve also been absent from many areas of my life,  including my office as you can see.

Lately my office remains empty more often than not, while I attend meetings. My team finally replaced me, which is fine I suppose, just as long as they recognize I have better hair and much funnier ‘that’s what she said’ jokes.

Found in the desert.

I’m allergic to beer so it’s not mine and Fancy Shirt Boy(friend) drinks much trashier beer. Yes, there is such a thing.

Oh, and threatened breakups: 15. Actual breakups: 0. So far, so good!

“Sarah I think I finally beat you at the grandkid game. I’m officially the favorite.”

“Ben, I highly doubt it. But what makes you THINK you’re the favorite?”

“I took the day off work and drove down to see grandma and grandpa.”

“Yeah, that’s the act of a favorite grandchild alright.”

“They were pretty happy to see me. I’m a fresh memory, unlike the flowers you sent a few months ago. So I win.”

“I don’t know about that… I actually ordered grandma a dozen roses yesterday.”

“Dammit, Sarah, that’s not fair. It takes you five minutes to send flowers and it takes me hours to drive down and back.”

“I’m not only a better grandkid, but I’m also better at time management.”

“I hate you right now.”

Today as I cleaned up all the dog shit in my backyard I ran across this teeny flower:

I stood still and stared at the flower for the next five minutes. Maybe I needed the visual reminder that underneath all life’s shit it’s possible to find something special.

Or maybe I was just scared of stepping in crap.

Now that I’m 34-years-old, I’ve finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up.

I want to be this lady:

I’m not kidding around here. Think about it… she gets to wear a pink cowgirl hat AND a motherfucking tiara.

How cool is that?

Um, it’s cool. Trust me. Plus I bet someone else washes her hair and bathes her, which is pretty much my new life goal.

I’ve been struggling with my age lately. When I look in the mirror I see my face starting to age, and that is hard to come to terms with.

Hearing this woman roar with laughter over something the cashier said put everything into perspective. Who gives a shit if my laugh lines are getting deeper? At least I’m still laughing.

1. Pants are bullshit.
2. Yellow Tail Shiraz-Cabernet is my lifeblood.
3. There is nothing sexier than an attentive and well-mannered date. NOTHING.
4. Vodka tonics glow in the dark.
5. Burlesque shows bring all the creepy men to the yard. And some of those men are awesome dancers.
6. Snow is not made of glitter, no matter how much you want it to be.
7. Cookie dough makes a delicious dinner, but will also be the reason your pants are too tight.
8. Knowing there’s a light at the end of the tunnel is soooo cliche, but damn it feels good.
9. Wearing boots over slipper socks can really be quite fashionable.
10. Hookers are not appropriate holiday gifts.

When I got home yesterday I found a box from Nordstrom sitting on my porch.

Fuck.

Guess who has been online shopping after taking Ambien again?

The shirt is a cute, and I would have most certainly picked it out in a non-Ambien state. That’s not the problem. Breaking my budget is the real issue.

Why can’t my Ambien spending sprees be limited to paying bills? Clearly my subconscious doesn’t understand that I’m going to need to replace my car soon. Oh, and buy groceries, UNLESS my subconscious is telling me to go on a diet. In which case, my subconscious is a total dickface and I demand a new one immediately. Can you imagine being able to custom order your subconscious? I would have a smaller ass, perfect skin, a great rack and much longer legs.

So I guess I need to train my subconscious to think I’m a Victoria’s Secret model. Great.