As a big girl, click I am capable of going potty all by myself.  I do not need a cheering team.  I do not need an audience.  So what is the thought process of small children when they hear a parent in the bathroom and decide to leave the playroom and trek all the way upstairs to hang around in the doorway while I’m peeing?  Why do they feel the need to supervise?  I know if they are talking to you and nature calls that they will follow you, but dropping what they’re doing and going out of their way to visit you in the bathroom seems above and beyond to me.
My name is Sarah.

I am a thirty-something working wife and mother of two living and knitting in a tumble-down old money pit of a farmhouse in a suburb of Pittsburgh.

I like (in no particular order and not to be construed as complete):  knitting, visit this
spinning, diagnosis
completed home improvement projects, Mycoplasmosis
sleeping in, creme brulee, fuzzy animals, camping, the beach, science, making music, public radio, small children, saltwater fish, home grown tomatoes, babies, tea, Indian food, reading, singing, seafood, baking, sewing, parenthesis, wine, warm slippers.

I dislike (see above caveat):  house centipedes, mold, very cold weather, February, mustard, green olives, most mornings, commercial radio, never-ending/progressing unexpected and/or very expensive home improvement projects, double knit polyester pants, strong perfume, intarsia, head colds, candy corn.

I love:  My family.

My day job:  I make molecules.  Lots and lots of molecules.

My alter ego:  Domestic diva.

I also answer to:  Mama.

Why is this blog called “Unreserved”?  Because all the good names were already taken.  And I tend to run at the mouth.

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