Hello there. It's me, the redhead. Some people call me Sarah. Others know me as mommy, wifey, hoser, freak, freak of nature, super freak, freaking fabulous etc. You can call me what you like as long as it wouldn't make me cry. I'm super sensitive. Plus it's really really bad luck to make a redhead cry. Trust me. Anyway, more about myself.
My parents hit the estrogen jackpot and had five daughters, of which I am the oldest. As a result of being first in line, I'm bossy, smart, controlling, a perfectionist, reliable, motivated, creative, and a tad bit dramatic. Is this starting to sound like a resume? Having four sisters gave me lots of opportunities to argue over clothes, whose lip gloss was whose, and who dared to play with my Peaches and Cream Barbie. We also had some pretty memorable catfights. I have scars folks. Scars.
I grew up wanting to be an actress and then the whole socially awkward age set in and that dream was a bust. I was skinny, shy, and let's not forget my unmanageable head of red hair that just drove the boys wild. Insert sarcasm. I also sported a boy hair cut for a couple years that may or may not have contributed to a fear of scissors. That's me in the back, the one who looks like a boy wearing fuschia. I'm not even going to talk about the perm incident. Let's just say my interaction with boys was limited. Very limited. But if one of them dared called me carrot-top, I would for sure put them in their place. Hello, carrots are orange...not red! Silly boys.
But did you know that at some point, boys (supposedly) become men right around the time that high school is about done and over. And some of these men actually like redheads. Like they think they are hot. Who knew. So by the time I was in college, I had pretty much shed my awkward layer. But my understanding of the male gender was severely lacking. Remember four sisters, no brothers. I had no idea what to expect from these creatures. Did they sleep upside down like bats? Did they bathe daily, weekly, monthly? If I punched one in the chest, would he curl into a ball like a potato bug, then get stuck on his back, legs flailing? I just didn't know the answers to these questions. So yes college was very enlightening.
Enter the (future) Husband in all his glory. Yummy. We met in college, and he gave me a crash course in Males: Being Basic 101. Homework assignments were 1) do not read too deeply into things 2) mean what I say, and say what I mean 3) avoid heavy conversations that are sure to induce a coma. Seems simple enough, but sometimes me and my fancy thoughts just miss the mark. Somehow, though, we were able to get along well enough to want to marry each other. And we did just that, over five years ago. Even better, we now have two sons, little Bosco and Bubba. I am so outnumbered it's ridiculous. The crash course continues as I put all my time, energy, and sanity into being a stay-at-home mom.
Somewhere in between getting married and having two children, I graduated from Brigham Young University with a BA in English, minor in Editing. I always hesitate to mention this because then people think I judge their speech or writing, or they will expect perfection from my speech or writing. To this I can only say don't worry, I won't judge you...too harshly. And never, ever expect perfection from me because it's just not going to happen. In fact, if there's one thing I learned from the multitude of English classes I took, it's that rules are made to be broken. So yes expect that from me. Broken rules. Made up words. Fragmented sentences. Yes.
So there you go. That's me in a really big, rambling, nutshell. Love me!
Please do not copy or use any material from this blog without my consent. Send me an email first, along with promises of chocolate. I can't let you use any pictures of my family though. That just ain't right.