Dear Kim,

I’m writing to you because I know that you’re a wine lover. My husband and I are having a very special couple over for dinner next week. They said they like Cabernet (like you), but since we don’t drink wine we weren’t sure if we should serve a Cabernet from the Sonoma or Napa region. What do you think?

Penny in Foryourthoughts, ND
 
 
Dear Penny,

Let me answer your question with a little story.

When I was 14, I went to my local pet shop to purchase 2 pet mice. The shop owner, who reeked of Bourbon and Tab, insisted on picking them out for me. He stared at their little mouse bits for several minutes and handed me what he claimed were two boys. I named them Sparky and Morris.

Over the next few weeks Morris became fatter & fatter and meaner & meaner. It wasn’t until we saw Morris bitch slap Sparky and shriek “Don’t touch me, asshole!” that my mother recognized the symptoms of pregnancy.

I’m embarrassed to say this but…I returned Morris (renamed Judy) to the pet shop like she was a wayward teen from the 1950′s. I thought for certain Sparky would become despondent and depressed, but instead he seemed relieved that I took care of his “little problem”. I swear I saw the stress leave his tiny rodent shoulders. Silly mouse.

Penny, I think you know where I’m going with this…get your guests drunk and, like the pet shop owner with mouse genitalia, they won’t know the difference.

And stay away from French wines, you won’t know how to pronounce them and you’ll just look stupid.

Your welcome,
Kim
 
 
 
Dear Kim,

Like you, I’ve been a stay at home mom for 9 years now. My question is, how do I keep from losing myself, the person I was before I had children?

Margaret in Kidtopia, KS
 
 
Dear Margaret,

Oh Margaret, Margaret, foolish Margaret- you can’t. I’m so lost that the vanity plate on my minivan says “WEAR M I”.

Back in the 90′s, I did a stint as a Life coach at S.O.S. Counseling (Stop Officially Sucking). I was a young, single professional that had a naive view of life. The Motto on my business card was “There’s Always a Way”. Years, marriage, and two children later, I realize my business cards should have read “There’s Always Xanax and Tequila Chasers”.

Somehow my life had changed…
My “Excuse me while I use the restroom.” became “I gotta go potty!”, my purse was suddenly a suitcase without wheels, holding everything from tampons to harmonicas, and my boobs went from supple sexual globes to functional flesh flaps capable of holding promotional bank pens and loose meter change.

Here’s my advice Margaret: embrace it and cry until the tears dry up.

If you’re really desperate, you could try taking a pole dancing class. It’ll give you those familiar inner thigh bruises and knee burns reminiscent of your wild college days, but when you get home you’ll still have to throw your stilettos in the closet and wipe up the baby shit. Is pole dancing really worth your Better Homes & Garden reading time? Besides, there’s always retirement.

Kim