Dear Kim,

I’m writing to you because I know that you are 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 mice. The shop owner, who reeked of Bourbon and Tab, insisted on picking them out for me. He stared at their bits for several minutes and proclaimed them both boys, so I named them Sparky and Morris. Over the next few weeks Morris got fatter and meaner. It wasn’t until we saw Morris bitch slap Sparky and shriek “Don’t touch me, you 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 some wayward teen from the 1950’s. I thought for certain Sparky would become despondent and depressed, but instead he seemed relieved that I had dealt with his “little problem”. I could actually see the stress leave his tiny rodent shoulders. Silly mouse.

Penny, I think you know where I’m going with this…get your guests drunk enough 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 I had a vanity plate made for my minivan that reads “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 cards read “There’s Always a Way”. Years, marriage, and two children later, I realize my business cards should have said “There’s Always Xanax and Tequila Chasers”.

Somehow my life had changed…

My “excuse me, I have to use the restroom” became “I gotta go potty”. My “Screw you!” became “That wasn’t a good choice”. My purse became a suitcase without wheels, holding everything from tampons to harmonicas (in my purse now. i swear). And my boobs went from perky to a place capable of holding promotional pharmaceutical pens and washable markers.

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

If you’re really desperate, you could try taking an invigorating pole dancing class. It will 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 clean up the baby shit. Is it really worth your Better Homes & Garden reading time?

There’s always retirement,

Kim