I now pronounce you ... who?

It's a wonderful thing to be a teenager and a 20-something and know everything.

I vowed as a young girl that I would never, ever have a baby. I was a career woman.

My mother would tell me that one day, when I was older, when I met the right man, I would change my mind.

"Never!" I swore.

Well, OK, she won that one. I do have a babe now. I think it's a good way to tell if you're with the right man or not. If you meet him and instantly want his baby, it's a good sign. I have lots of girlfriends who said they weren't sure they could call their honeys their soulmates, or they weren't sure they wanted to marry them, but they were sure, 100 per cent, that they wanted these men to father their children.

But now comes yet another dilemma that one reaches when you're 30 and engaged.

To change your name or not to change your name. That is the question.

The feminist in me wants to keep my name.
The romantic in me wants to change my name. There's something wonderfully romantic, sweet and dedicated about having the same name as your man.

So, what to do?

I know women who changed their maiden names to their husband's name and then, years later, after spending a lifetime regretting it, changed it back.

I also know a couple of women who decided not to change their names when they got married and then, years after being married, decided they wanted the same name as their husband and children and so they took their husband's name years into their marriage.

Hyphenation seems to be the hot style these days but I'm just not into it, purely for aesthetic reasons. If I had the kind of last name that rolled off the tongue when paired with another, then maybe, but I don't. So that option is out.

Of course, I could take his name and have a professional name and a personal name.

At work, I'd go by Sarah Crosbie.
In the grocery store, I'd go by Sarah MacBarah.*

Oh, decisions, decisions.

What to do?

* Name has been changed to a silly name that rhymes with "Sarah" mostly for fun, but also not to out the Fiance totally. :)

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The gall of that girl! (Yeah, me)

A couple of weeks ago, I went to see a production of Joseph and The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at a local school and I wrote a column about it for The Kingston Whig-Standard.

In the column, in which I praise the outstanding talent of the young actors, I explain that I went to the musical because my "stepson" had a starring role in it.

The day the column was published, the Fiance, formerly known as the BF, got a phone call at work that went exactly like this:

"Hi. I'm just calling to tell you that Sarah made a MISTAKE in her column. He can't be her stepson if you're not married. Goodbye."

Well, I'm going to take the high road here and not get nasty, but let me just stay this: Geez. Isn't it terrible that there's someone in this cruel, crazy world who looks out for a child, wants the very best for him, is proud of him?

Yeah, I'm a massive jerkhead.

What was I thinking?

(P.S. I know who you are ...)

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A little Mother's Day wisdom for you

My favourite quote: "You find a glimmer of happiness in this world, there's always someone who wants to destroy it." - J.M. Barrie

I've used that quote on here many times before - unfortunately there are many bitter, mean, sad, unhappy people out there who constantly try to poop on our parade.

I hope you all had a lovely Mother's Day.

sarah :)

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No longer have a BF - Pt. 2

Yes, it's true, folks.
I no longer have a BF. After two and a half years together, it was time for things to change. And so ...
I have a fiance!
The BF recently proposed and, no, I didn't immediately go on here and blab the news because I wanted it to be my news for awhile. For two days, we didn't even tell family because I wanted it to be my own bit of happiness that no one could destroy.
Not that I was totally surprised.
We live together.
We have a family together.
We have a baby.
We have a joint bank account.
And so, a few months ago, when the BF started to say, "Um, don't open my Visa bills for awhile, OK?" I knew it was coming. But he did keep me guessing.
I was sure I was going to get the ring on my 30th birthday in March.
This was my logic: He thinks that I think I'm going to get my ring. So, he'll wait until the last minute to give me my ring so that I'll think I'm not getting it. But then, with minutes to spare, I'll think I'm not getting the ring and so he'll give me the ring. When all the while I thought I was going to get the ring, so I would've been right.
See what I'm saying?
But no, I didn't get it on my birthday.
Then, one morning, we went out for brunch, just the two of us. Again, I thought this would be the perfect time.
And, at one point, I was 99% sure it was coming.
As I sipped coffee and picked at my strawberry crepe, out of the corner of my eye I saw him start to move. And then he bent down ... to get on one knee?!
No.
He was picking up our son's rattle. But my heart was racing, faster than when we do sprints in our running group. I was so sure, yet so wrong.
Then, I thought he might give me the ring at the Ontario Newspaper Awards. We were both nominated for awards that night but then he won his category and I lost and I was pretty sure he wasn't going to pull out the ring after I'd been declared a loser.
And so I waited. And waited. And waited.
And then one night, after a delicious dinner of red wine, escargot cabbage rolls and chicken paprikash, he asked me to marry him.
We still haven't told anyone how it happened or what he said.
I think that's my story to hold in my heart and not share with the world.
But you never know. Maybe I'll blab it all one day.
I will tell you this: There was a mirrorball.

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No longer have a BF

Did you hear?
I fell off the face of the earth.
Well, that's not totally true. I just fell off the blogging world.

It's sorta like this: Tomatoes have always been my favourite food. I eat them on everything: bagels, potatoes, tacos, eggs, cheese. Then, starting in 2007, I just stopped buying them. All of a sudden they were acidic and just not that tasty.

Back in February, when I stopped blogging, it was beginning to feel like a chore. Family and friends were e-mailing and calling to question why I wasn't writing enough. More! they demanded.

So, of course, I gave them less.

Blogging, for awhile, seemed acidic. It was making me tired and irritable and I just didn't feel like doing it.

Today, for some reason, I felt like typing a tad.

So, I'll give you the quickie update and I promise to give you more in the days to come, OK?

1. Ran my first 10-kilometre race last weekend in 1 hour, 53 seconds. Damn those 53 seconds.

2. Went to the Ontario Newspaper Awards last month. I was nominated for best humour writing for my columns that appear in the Kingston Whig-Standard. Lost to a dad from Guelph who penned a piece on his vasectomy. I'm psychic though. I just knew I was going to lose to him. Still, I got a nice runner-up trophy. And I looked pretty. And looking pretty is all that matters. :)

3. Little Man is the cutest baby in the world. Fact.

4. Thought I was going to win the $38 million Lotto 649 last month. Obviously I didn't.

5. No longer have a BF. Shocking but true.

And, I still don't like tomatoes.

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