Dads who babysit

Hello! I'm back. It took me going to an island that does not usually have wifi (but now does) to sit down long enough and realize that I have not blogged in 2.5 years! Say what? Well it has been an interesting 6 months I'm sure for all of us. Tiny update since we last hung- sold my house in West Ashley, moved back to MTP in to a tiny, little, cute house on York St which I like to call the Sachelorpad(please come visit), became a gardener, hit the 11th year mark at Sass Herrin and in April I started a second full time job selling real estate for Dunes Properties. Oddly enough, having 2 full time jobs during a global pandemic has worked out for me. So there you have it. I am currently in Maine on an adorably quaint little island called the Isle au Haut. We drove here because I am petrified of the Rona and I HATE flying. So here we are. Im drowning in fresh lobster and blueberry soda so no complaints here. Today I was gladly sitting around doing nothing and I realized it is time to hop back on the blog horse. I was watching West Wing for the 100th time (best show on the planet)(and for the record, CJ Cregg is my petronus) Any ways.. You will see below how I got here.. Dads who babysit. For the record this is not a dad bashing. Just a small thought. Trust me, I know you work hard and are awesome. Alas, I am pretty blessed with mom friends. Some old, some young. I'd say 94% of my pals have kids. Also, I'd say they are all pretty kick ass moms(just putting that out there). They are kind, they are smart... They get shit done. Rarely do they get sidelined by the mom cold... They push on like they are in the Hunger Games. Some of them more together than others, but all keeping their offspring alive and fed and mostly clean. Clearly I am a fan of this genre of friends. Alas, having mom friends leads to less time to hang, ear infections and stomach bugs. Plans get cancelled all of the time. Yet they push on. We push on. Well, today on West Wing one of the male aids mentioned having to babysit his child and had to miss out on something. He was not happy. The mom had to go to an appointment. I mean.. she wasn't even doing anything fun. Cool out dude. This has bothered me since I was old enough to realize that dads can't babysit their own kids. That is called spending time with kids that they helped create. This is a pet peeve of mine. I wish it wasn't because once I hear it- I cannot un hear it... So this is my PSA to the dads that procreated. Yes, sometimes you have to spend time with those little offspring. It is not babysitting. If it is then the moms deserve some serious $$$$$$$$$$. Also moms-don't feel bad leaving your kids with their dads. You deserve some time. Not at a doctors appointment. No- go walk around target by yourself or get a Chick Fil A ice dream while sitting in your car listening to T-Swift. Or come hang at the Sachelorpad. You are safe there.. Also for the record.. I know many a dad that hang with their kids. All of the time. And they are awesome. They just don't call it babysitting... Once again, this is not a dad bashing. Just a dads who babysit bashing. Stay cool my friends.

Skinny Bitch: The Break Up

Well, its 2018 and I am back on the Skinny Bitch wagon. I didn't fall off. When I lost 100lbs I somehow got thrown off and run over by it. Then it reversed and ran me over again. And again.. I was still working out, but not clean eating which seems to be the hard part for me. Any how, last week I started back. And let me tell you- it feels like a horrible break up or even a death. Like Jack dying in the Titanic. I feel like Regina George when she got smacked by the bus... I know this sounds dramatic, but alas, it is how I feel on this Monday. Let me tell you two places you should never go if you are trying to eat clean. 1)Cinebarre. I went there the other night to see The Post. Fantastic Movie. However, I sat there eating a tangerine that I snuck in while all of the other happy people were eating popcorn, pizza, freaking milkshakes and pretzel sticks. Kill me now. I was dying a slow and painful death. I wanted to chuck my little tangerine at someone. The time dragged on.. The little eggs I had eaten prior to the movie had evaporated and I wanted to die. Every time Meryl was eating on the screen I just wanted to cry.. 2)Andolinis. This was just sad. I was trying to be social and see some friends for dinner last week. ALL OF MY FRIENDS ARE SKINNY AND CLEARLY CAN EAT PIZZA. So I go. I pep myself up. Prepared to order a salad. I got to the counter. I was 99.0% about to order a slice. The Skinny Bitch spirit took over and I heard myself order a salad. REGRET. It was so sad. I was nibbling on the Andolinis salad(Let's be honest-Andos is not known for salad), while they were eating beautiful pieces of pizza. Cheese was dripping off the sides of the slice and I couldn't even watch. It was all I could do to survive it.(And they were still skinny) I WANTED TO TELEPORT HOME IMMEDIATELY and watch This is Us and just cry. So those are two places that I will not be going for a long, long time. I tried the movies again at Palmetto Grande this past weekend (PS-Go see I, Tonya) and my friend smuggled in some Skinny Pop for us. It was not quite as terrible. That being said- if you are going somewhere really good- don't invite me because I will be sad.

The Freaking Half Marathon from Hell

Last Saturday I did the Kiawah Half Marathon. It was amazing. It was hellacious. I'd like to say I ran it. I did not. I started out walking. Not sure what you would call how I ended it. All I know is that I felt like I had just survived a combination of Naked and afraid, The biggest Loser and being left in the movie WILD for days upon days with no food or water fending for my life. I know this sounds dramatic. BUT THIS SHIZ IS REAL. All you runner people- INSANITY. I will give you a play by play. I woke up Saturday with intentions to stay in bed if it was raining. I woke up at 4:27 am and it was raining. My dumb self decided to get out of bed and head to my friends house that was attempting this with me. We got to Kiawah unreasonably early so I sat in the car and let my anxiety climax to its upper levels. Finally at 6:25am I decided we should heard with the other cattle to the buses that were delivering us to our destiny. We made it to packet pick up and about 1 million other people were there doing their race warm ups and stretching. Once in this building I realized I was unlike the others... I saw lots of lu lu and running shorts. Racing hats and belts. Fancy shoes, goo and whatever that tape stretchy stuff is people put on their legs. Maybe I should have eaten breakfast. Maybe I should have stretched. MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE FREAKING TRAINED. Alas destiny awaited. We made our way to the starting line. It was a lovely 42 degrees. Awesome. Once again, I was feeling a little(lot) out of place with all of these fit professionals. Crud. Is it too late to bag this? Then the race started. I'm not sure what I thought would happen, but I definitely thought it was going to be a little different. I started out fairly well. Mile 1 was my best... I should've known things were headed south when the bike paramedic suggested I try to keep a quicker pace.. Thanks. Obvi I am not Usain Bolt. All was well the first mile in. After the first drink station I kind of realized it seemed a little quiet. I looked behind me. NO ONE. NOT ONE SOUL. Ok Sarah its ok. You need some alone time anyways.. Everyone behind you is resting or took a wrong turn. Several times throughout the race I actually did think I took a wrong turn because there was NOBODY. No fear. I let a few minutes pass before I looked behind again. Next thing I knew I felt like something was behind me. I turned around and there was the police Tahoe with its blue lights flashing. Well that's nice that they are keeping us safe. After a few minutes I realized that the police man was the end of the race. I was last. DEAD last. like no other soul around. He was like 2 feet behind me just inching along. Well that's funny. Next time I looked- about 15 cars were creeping along behind him(one was even honking). These poor people just wanting to get home, but Sarah Usain Bolt was not moving quickly apparently. This was just the beginning for me. At mile 5 I wandered a little bit to the middle of my lane and my noise cancelling beats drowned out the sound of the quickly approaching bus. Yes- a bus. I literally barely missed getting my ass hit by a freaking bus during the marathon. But, lucky for me there were no actual humans on the premises to witness this or come to my aid had the said bus side swiped me. Another highlight was that by the time I got to certain landmarks all of the spectators had moved on so all I saw were cups and posters strewn upon the ground. Lets go Sarah.. I have to say that miles 1-6 weren't so bad. 7 was like when you accidently walk behind the car and hit your shin on the trailer hitch. You cuss and it sucks, but you walk it off. Mile 8 was the start of my demise. At mile 8 my phone started getting texts one after the other. I began to realize that everyone I knew that was doing the race had finished. FREAKING FINISHED. I still had 5 flipping miles. OMG how was this possible. I started toying with the idea of calling an Uber. Or just sitting down. My legs were killing. My feet were wanting to fall off. I couldn't make eye contact with any water station people because I was scared I would just burst out crying. At mile 9 I used a lifeline and I phoned a friend. By the grace of God Anne had come to watch me finish and drive me home because I knew I would want to die. She talked me through mile 9 and probably off a ledge. By mile 10 I was praying that God would just zap me off of this course and this dreaded island. There was no way I was going to make it 3 more miles. My pace had more than doubled and I was literally just putting 1 foot in front of the other. At this point I had caught the full marathon runners. Just kidding. They had lapped me several times. We had bonded. Especially since they had passed me so many times. Crazy people running 26 miles. No thank you. By mile 11 I thought I was on the verge of death. I am sure I looked like a horrible and slow hot mess express every time I meandered to a water station. Miles 11 and 12 were the longest miles of my life. I stopped at one point and just took my shoes off. I almost didn't have the energy to put them back on. When we were on the golf course sidewalk I just about walked straight across the green. AGONY. By the time I was finishing mile 12 people were telling me how close I was. Well, that did not help me so much... I must have asked every single soul I passed if this *&^%*&^% race was almost over. I'm sure I terrified people, but I was a hot mess. When I saw Mile 13 I thought my legs were going to break off. I had already lost my mind. Why not some body parts? Finally after what felt like days I heard the spectators at the finish line. I had imagined that this moment would be glorious. I would feel inspired. I would increase my pace and lengthen my stride. Start running. Cross that finish line at a jog with the crowd cheering. Not so much. I slowly made it down to the finish feeling every step. Every part I forgot to put Body Glide. Barely looking up accept to see my friends at the finish. Was scared to actually make I contact for fear of mental breakdown. I told myself to run, but that did not happen... Finished. All in all I am glad I did it. But I am pretty sure I got last place (fact and proud of it..) And I am pretty sure I am not doing that again... Peace out my friends. Thanks for the support 0.0 I don't run

Worst 19 minutes of my life

It was Friday night. At Cinnebare. I was awaiting to see Dunkirk. With a stroke of bad luck, I made it to the 7 pm movie well ahead of everyone else. Which means I had the horrible task of saving 6 seats. Kill me now. I was going with the Wagners which usually means Tobey is there well ahead of time. Well, I wasn't so lucky Friday night. So I got in there and things were pretty good. Most of the upper seating was taken so I claimed 6 seats on the first flat row. Was feeling pretty good about my selection. I thought I was safe. All of a sudden around 6:40, civilians started pouring in. One after another. At first some were nice while asking if I had ALL of those seats. (I mean 6 is not that many. You would have thought I had 23 seats saved). As the minutes inched along, I began to feel some tension in the air. Clouds of hostility floating my way. I trid not to make eye contact. I really wanted to lift up the arm rests and just lay across all of the seats. At least 10 people tried to sit in my seats. I was proactive by getting there early. Why did I feel like Cruella De Ville? Like I was shunning the public. Like I was the worst person in the world. My anxiety was majorly on the rise. At 6:49 a British lady came at me. Told me I was ridiculous (in her ridiculous accent) to save seats. I almost backed down, but I had a duty to do so I told her to push on (maybe not in those words). So many people just made a dash for it and sat down, ergo I had to tell them to roll out. Worst feeling ever. I was staring at the walk way praying one of my people would walk in. I felt like everyone was watching me to see if I actually had people coming. The theatre was filling up and I felt like my seats were sitting ducks ready to be taken. Just as I was about to sweat through my shirt, in they come. Praise the Lord! I think it took a solid 30 minutes and chicken fingers to bring my anxiety back to its resting level. If you want to feel terrible about yourself, just go to a Friday night movie and save seats. You're welcome.

My Boys

This post is a long time coming. Most of you know that I have been lucky enough to do Young Life since 2003. It's been a long time. YL has taken me many, many places, but one of my favorite and most unexpected places has been Porter Gaud. I know, I even surprise myself sometimes. Last place I ever imagined this Wando Warrior was chasing a pack of boys at PG. Well, every now and again a blind squirrel finds a nut. In my case, I was lucky enough to find several nuts. It makes me cry just thinking about my nuts. Ok, bad wording there.

(Here are some of the nuts) Somehow, in 2012 I met a pack of some of my most favorite people. Porter Gaud freshmen boys. Yes. You read that right. I made friends with my best friend, which led me to becoming friends with her son. And then his friends. I've been around high schoolers enough to decipher who is the real deal or not. These boys are the real deal. I never thought I'd be 31, single, and have a pack of recently graduated boys. THANK GOD I DO. They have brought me some of my most favorite memories. We have had many crappy meals at Andos, hundreds of car rides, hilarious and crazy conversations in the Jones living room and very competitive Xbox games which could have led to severed friendships... haha. Heck, some of them even let me take them on a trip and accompany them on a cruise... I also got lucky enough to meet them for breakfast the first day of school all of high school. Here are some pics

It's hard to explain, but I feel like they are my brothers. I am sensitive, therefore, I have been dreading graduation since freshmen year (ask Anne.. ). Most of the moms thought I was crazy, but alas, they will be sad too come August. Since 9th grade, I knew that they would leave us. Granted- they should. Things would be much worse if they graduated and had no where to go.. But, I have been dreading graduation for a few reasons. The obvious one is that they are leaving me. Geographically speaking. That means no more Andos or Chick Fil A. No more crashing the Jones house to find 10 cars horribly parked outside and hearing them scream at each other over College football or Rocket League. Sadly, the times are changing. Don't get me wrong, I am glad they are all getting to go where they want to. I'm just sad I won't be with them:( Also, it means they are getting older. I don't like change so this one is hard for me. I loved the days when they were dorks and couldn't drive. They needed our help and in exchange we got to hear all of their ridiculous conversations. Now, they mostly drive cooler cars than me and come home when I'm well into my REM sleep cycle. I'm sad I won't be with them on move in day, or to rag them as they walk to class. To sum it up, I am sad. But, I am Proud. Proud of the boys/mini men they are becoming. Proud of the friends they are to each other and the friends they are to me. Boys- I'll miss you. You better not forget me and still answer my calls. No college is too far for a first day of school breakfast:) or a beat down when you need it. I am also thankful to have gotten to spend so much time with these guys. Love you long time.

Crazy Train

That moment. When you know you have just hopped aboard the hot mess express. Actually more like the crazy train. I was full speed ahead on the crazy train yesterday. I do not know when I hopped aboard, but at some point I was driving that thing like a beast. I usually stay pretty steady, but I'll be honest, all the forces were working against me. I had to wake up at 5 for the gym (more on that next post), I'm eating healthy so therefore, I am HANGRY all the time and I took every tiny thing personally yesterday. Plus, I set off a silent alarm in a clients house at work, slammed my finger in the door and dropped my phone on a driveway. A while back, our bible study read the Bait of Satan and I kind of prided myself on usually not get offended. Well the tide has turned. Pride has been swallowed. I ended up taking the bait, hook, line and sinker. I even cried in Michaels. Ps- I HATE MICHAELS. Seriously. That joint gives me so much anxiety. And smells like fake cinnamon. Any who, the moral of my terrible day was that I took the bait and what I saw was ugly. My reactions, thoughts and feelings were pretty ugly. Plus, I couldn't fix myself. That is where the problem is. Instead of me trying to make myself better or not take things personally, I should've asked for help. Not driven around with road rage calling every single name on my favorites list. Thankfully no one answered.. (except you Stephen-Thank you)They would have probably had some form of PTSD. I should have stopped and asked for help. For clear thoughts. I should have even prayed one tee tiny little munchkin prayer. Nope. That would be way to easy. Instead I let it all stack on top of each other and then have an awesome melt down.. I realized that I do not always think clearly. Or positively. I also realized I actively try to protect my feelings from being hurt a lot. I also sometimes let totally DUMB things hurt my feelings. So today I woke up, went to the gym and then gave myself a pep talk. I need to be okay with myself the way I am. Good feelings or bad. I need to practice not getting worked up or going after the bait on first cast. I need to rely on God to work it out with me instead of me working it out with myself. I'm sure I will be back on the train one day soon, but today I am on the other side. Peace. PS- sorry for the absence. Might be back soon:)

Skinny Bitch: The Holy Hundred

So this post has been a LONG time coming and its long so hunker down or hit the x. I've been waiting 1.5 years to be exact. Last Thursday I had an incredibly awesome and spectacular moment as well as a complete breakdown. Here is a little background on the situation. You have read some prior posts about me doing HCC or as I like to call it "Fat Camp." (Hold your negative comments, we are all good). In my opinion, it is like voluntary imprisonment, but it is also the best thing that I have ever done. That actually sounds like having kids according to some friends.. I've been on this health/sweat/eat clean journey a while and a few weeks ago I hit my 80 lb loss mark. Ok, cool I thought. Then I got to 90. The I realized, "HOLY CRAP. I COULD ACTUALLY GET TO 100." This was such a foreign thought to me for so long. When I first started I was honest to God just lucky enough to get my ass to the freaking gym and walk. I hated it. I wanted to puke just getting on the Crosstown. I could not even utter the word "weight." Then I used to fear the exercise ball. I thought there was 100% chance of popping that shiz.. Month after month, fears dwindled and new ones sprouted, but by the help of good friends I still got there. Weeks turned into months and oddly enough, we are into years. When I first started I couldn't run. Mostly because I was embarrassed that I would look like one of the Chick fil A Cows shuffling around in a circle or my legs would break off. We have come a long way. When I first started I don't think I said one word there and if I did speak, it was not positive. I was definitely not on the prowl for new friends. Especially gym friends. The worst. Boy was I an idiot. Now, some of the toughest people I know I see at the gym almost everyday. Last week was the week. I was on track to reach my 100lb loss goal. I kind of turned into a raging psychopath. But, really. I was obsessed. If I did not get it who knows what would happen. It was all I could think about. I didn't even want to eat. I went to the gym way too many times and was the exact image of gym people that I want to punch in the throat. Some of you knew this and probably wanted to punch me in the throat last week. I was a complete maniac and on the brink of a meltdown. Enter said meltdown. Thursday is weigh in day. Go time. Its horrible and I hate it, but its what you have to do. And no its not public and you don't have to be naked or anything. But I still hate it. I got to the gym to do a last minute workout before weigh in. Things were going well. I was exhausted, hungry and tired. Probably not the most ideal situation. Things were going well. I was working out hard. I decided to get super introspective and carry 2 50lb dumbbells around the track. It seemed like a therapeutic idea at first. And then I started walking. I made it a quarter of the way around and had to just drop them. Crap those were heavy. I picked them back up and went another 10 yards. I made it about halfway and realized I was crying. It was HORRIBLE. I felt like I was going to die on the spot. Right then and there. WORST IDEA EVER. How was I going to finish.. You can't really exit easily and I knew deep down I'd be pissed if I quit. So I went another 10 yards and dropped them. My knees, hands, arms, hips and shoulders were screaming. I was wrecked. How the HELL did I carry this around every day for so long. There's no way. I don't know how something bad hadn't happened to me. Carrying those things really put it into perspective and I HATED every minute of it. I finally saw the end in sight and basically willed my body there and just dropped that junk right on the ground. I drug myself around the track crying and cussing. Praying no one came to say hey or ask me if I was going to hit the 100lb that night. Their life would have been in danger. I finally calmed down after walking 3 laps slower than I have ever walked. I mean, I felt like I got hit by a Mac truck. I made my way down to the weigh in. Do or die. I got on the scale and hit the 100 exactly. PTL. I felt such a relief. I have been really torn about this because on one hand I understand how cool and amazing losing 100lbs is. It was a ton of work and life change. It has not been easy in the least. However, I didn't know this was a possibility. At all. I had gotten to a place of no hope. I had super negative thinking and figured I'd probably just die in my sleep one day. It wasn't good. I had to ride around in my best friends car for hours before I could even say the word weight. (PS-she is a saint) I finally admitted that this whole deal was killing me ( I remember this like it was yesterday). Literally killing me and I hadn't told anyone any of this before. Mentally, physically and spiritually killing me. Luckily, we moved forward from there and got the ball rolling. So to have come from that is one of the coolest blessings and accomplishments ever. On the other hand, I was pretty upset that I had (and still have) all of that to lose. Its a hard thing to think about. And I most certainly do not enjoy talking about it. But, this is what keeps me going. I have a new goal. I have expectations and goals that I am going to meet. It will take time, but I am going to get there. Here is where I need to say thank you. Anne, I literally could and would not have set foot in that place if it weren't for you. Thank you for driving me around MTP and Sullys for hours upon hours just listening to me be a freak. Talk about a hot mess express. ALL ABOARD... But in all seriousness, thank you isn't close to being enough. Thanks for being my gym friend:) Mom and Dad and Lili, thanks for drinking the koolaid a long time ago and being supportive. Could not have done it without yall either. To my new gym friends and team Lucey family- you know who you are. Sorry if I came across as a biatch. I actually was one, but I promise I'm much better outside of that place. I do think I've softened a hair. Thanks for always pushing me and encouraging me no matter what. I see you more than most and I'm glad we are in this together. Another thank you to a big jewel that got me to start meeting her at 530 am when I first started and kicked my rear into gear:)I think the craziest thing I've learned in all of this is that you actually don't even have to believe something is possible for it to happen. I had zero hope when this started. You just have to have a friend willing to sign up for HCC, knowing that you will have FOMO and therefore, you will then sign up too. Sorry for the long sappy post, Until next time, Skinnybitch wannabe