On the eve of the 2018 midterm elections, I traveled with President Trump to three rallies in Ohio, Missouri, and Indiana. To my surprise President Trump called me up onstage in Indiana and asked me to say a few words.
“A lot of people know me in my official capacity and it’s one of the greatest honors of my life to serve in your administration and one of the most important jobs I’ll ever have,” I said. “But the greatest job I’ll ever have and the most important title I’ll ever have is that of a mom. And that’s why I work for the president: because I care about my kids’ future and our country’s future.” That might have sounded like a cliché but for me it was true. I loved my country and the opportunity to serve the president, but as a mom I hated the time I had to spend away from my kids at such a young age—time I could never get back. Other people could be the White House press secretary. I was the only person who could be mom to my three kids.
Republicans lost the House in the midterm elections, but the president helped deliver a larger majority for Republicans in the Senate, including hard-fought wins against Democratic incumbents in Indiana, Missouri, North Dakota, and Florida. The president also helped Republicans win governorships in key 2020 battleground states like Florida, Georgia, and Ohio. However, losing the House to the Democrats, led by San Francisco liberal Nancy Pelosi, was a major setback, and it exposed Republicans’ vulnerabilities in the suburbs, particularly among women.
While many liberal feminists in the media attacked my appearance, character—even my fitness to be a mother—President Trump empowered me not just as a woman but as a working mom. It’s one of the things I appreciated most about the president, and I felt an obligation to share that with women across the country. When the president called me on weekends and evenings he frequently would wrap our calls by telling me to get back to taking care of my beautiful children, letting me know he understood I had other priorities and responsibilities. But most importantly, in the office he never treated me any different than any male employee. To me this was far more empowering than anything else he could have done. He included me in key high-level meetings—and not just to check the box and have a woman in the photo op. He frequently called on me to add my opinion to the discussion, which at times could be intimidating, like when he asked me to weigh in on a complex foreign policy issue in a meeting with a foreign leader or a life-or-death national security decision in the Situation Room.
He regularly sought out my advice, complimented me, reaffirmed me, and made me laugh, but he also yelled at me, cursed at me, and pushed me to do better. He never held back and I didn’t want him to. I wanted him to treat me the same way he would Mike Pompeo, Jared Kushner, or Dan Scavino, and he did. So many times the idea of women’s empowerment is that somehow we should be treated differently, but I just wanted to be treated the same way as my male colleagues. I wanted to earn my place, not have it handed to me because I’m a woman.
The president liked surrounding himself with strong women. He certainly didn’t always take our advice but he heard us out. I never felt like I was anything less for being a woman during my time at the White House, but that doesn’t mean it was easy. Like a lot of working moms, for me it was a daily battle to strike the right balance between work and family. Almost every working mom I knew struggled with finding that balance. You spent most days feeling like if you were doing your job well you were lacking as a parent and vice versa. When I was at work I’d feel guilty that I was not at every class party, performance, or field trip. During my time at the White House I missed nearly every school drop-off and pickup. That’s two and a half years I didn’t get to wave good-bye to my kids in the morning before school or give them a hug and a kiss when they came home. Not only did I feel like my kids weren’t getting enough of me, I’d question what other moms must think. My kids definitely weren’t the ones coming to school with a perfectly composed lunch of organic, homemade items in a bento box complete with a handwritten poem on their napkin. Most days we were lucky to find the time at all to pack a lunch and not forget the drink or snack.
Achieving work-life balance in a fast-paced work environment was daunting, and many days, impossible. If my kids were sick and we were up all night, I’d still have to be “on” at work. If I was dealing with a major story or had gone on a foreign trip with the president, I’d still have to be “on” when I eventually got home. I was constantly looking at my schedule figuring out how to make time for both. On Sundays I’d look at my calendar for the week ahead, and often felt like a failure as a mom before the week even started because I’d see the work obligations I had coming up and knew there’d be no quality time left over for my kids. Or I’d feel like a failure at work because I’d see all the stuff I had to be at for my kids and knew it wouldn’t leave enough time for my job. For many working moms the high cost of childcare is a real challenge. At one point before I started at the White House our monthly childcare costs were more than the mortgage on our home. I had friends in the administration who felt like they earned just enough to pay for childcare. And if you could afford it, good luck finding someone who will care for your kids the way you would. It’s one of the reasons I was so proud of the Trump administration for leading the fight to double the child tax credit and champion paid family leave. Four years ago Republicans were hardly talking about paid family leave at all, but thanks to the leadership of Ivanka Trump, also a working mom of three, there was now broad bipartisan support for it.
Being a working mom in the White House was tough, but it actually made me a lot better at my job. Some of the best training I got to be the White House press secretary was from being a mom. It taught me how to multitask and prioritize my time. It also taught me about the weight of my words and the importance of being intentional and focused. Most important, it taught me how to answer the same question over and over again and say no. In fact, dealing with some reporters in the briefing room was a lot like dealing with screaming toddlers. Unfortunately the press didn’t think that analogy was as funny as I did!
A lesson I learned from my dad was that it’s not just about the quantity of time you spend with your kids—it’s the quality of time. Growing up in a political family where my dad’s time was often not his own I experienced firsthand how much quality one-on-one time mattered. One of my fondest memories of my dad from growing up was our Wednesday morning breakfasts together. It was a set date. It didn’t matter if it was a fancy restaurant or McDonald’s, on Wednesday morning I felt like the only person in the world who mattered to him and that’s what made it special.
I’ll never forget my first Take Our Daughters and Sons to Work Day at the White House. I decided to bring my son Huck, who was three at the time. Huck was younger than most of the other kids coming, but it was a risk I was willing to take. How many more opportunities would I get to take one of my kids to work for a day at the White House? I couldn’t pass it up. Bryan and I talked about it and he agreed to be on standby in case Huck got to be too much for me to handle.
For President Trump’s first Take Our Daughters and Sons to Work Day we decided to not only invite the kids of White House staff, but also the kids of the White House press corps. The White House staff rolled out the red carpet for all the kids—giving them gift bags with hats, coloring books, Secret Service badges, and filling the day with once-in-a-lifetime experiences like seeing the president’s limo, the Beast, baking cookies in the White House kitchen with the pastry chef, and closing the day out by meeting the president and vice president for a group picture in the Rose Garden. As White House staff and press kids gathered in the Rose Garden, I briefed the president in the Oval Office about the event. I reminded him that half of the kids’ parents are reporters so he may want to be careful with what he said. He naturally ignored my advice! As we talked, the president noticed the rose bushes outside his window violently shaking. I turned and looked up to see a crop of blond hair pop up out of the bushes. “There’s a boy in the bushes!” the president exclaimed. The boy with blond hair launched himself out of the bushes and ran to the window, pressing his face up against the glass of the Oval Office. Mortified, I responded, “Yes, sir, that’s my son Huck.” The president looked at me, shook his head, and said, “Well, Sarah, at least he’s handsome.”
Moments later, the president walked out of the Oval Office onto the iconic Rose Garden colonnade to say hi and take pictures with the kids and I followed behind him. Out of the corner of my eye, in front of dozens of cameras, I saw Huck running at full speed toward the president. President Trump bent down to greet him, but just as the Secret Service was about to intervene, Huck blew right past the president as if he wasn’t even there and dove into my arms. The president turned and gave me a “this kid again” look with a grin. I shrugged back and smiled as I gave my son a big hug. It was an encouraging reminder to all the moms out there: for a three-year-old boy, the most powerful man in the world—the President of the United States—has nothing on his mom! I knew in that moment I hadn’t totally messed him up, at least not yet!
At another Take Our Daughters and Sons to Work Day, Vice President Pence joined me at the podium in the briefing room to take questions from dozens of reporters’ kids. One of the things I always loved about the vice president was his heart, compassion, and love for the people of our country. He was always the first person to encourage the team, build us up, and take an interest in each of us personally. On more than one occasion he’d engage my kids and make them feel important. The vice president was not only a good Christian man, but a trusted confidant of the president and a calm and stable presence in the White House during tumultuous times.
I came to expect the unexpected when I’d bring my kids to the office. For Christmas at the White House one year, Bryan and I took all three kids. It was perfect. Once again the first lady had done an amazing job. The first lady was not only a gracious and welcoming host but had a spectacular eye for things of beauty and at no time was this more evident than Christmas at the White House. Even though some in the press mocked and attacked her, anyone who spent any real time with her knew what a beautiful spirit she had and she poured all of it into making visitors at the White House feel special and welcomed. Christmas at the White House was magical, each room filled with unique décor and impeccable thought and detail put into every ornament, light, and display. As you entered the East Wing, the first thing you’d see was a Christmas tree that towered over the room adorned with ornaments to honor Gold Star families who had paid the ultimate sacrifice for our country. As you continued into the East Wing, you’d step onto a green carpet with giant all-red Christmas trees made from thousands of small berries lining both sides of the hall. As you left the hall, there were frames on the walls with Christmas cards from previous first families. Just past that you could peek into the China Room where tables were set to display past presidents’ china patterns. Across the hall in the White House Library were four Christmas trees that had ornaments with seals representing all our states and territories. As soon as you started to make your way up the stairs you’d begin to hear beautiful music played by the Marine Corps Band, and at the top of the stairs stations were set up for kids to make Christmas crafts. There were all kinds of Christmas treats and a hot chocolate bar, where the parents carefully monitored their kids to make sure they didn’t spill all over the floor or themselves. The grand finale was a chance for the families to meet the president and first lady in the Blue Room in front of the eighteen-foot-tall North Carolina–grown Christmas tree and have a photo taken. Like the other attendees I wanted a picture with my kids and the First Family. I had the boys dressed in green dress pants with blazers and bow ties and Scarlett in an ivory dress with gold trim and a Peter Pan collar that looked like a miniature Jackie O dress. I was a proud mom and wanted to capture the moment. Despite the fact the kids had way too much hot chocolate, they were on pretty good behavior for the family photo.
As we finished, the president pulled me aside. The boys ran off and Bryan chased after them, but Scarlett stayed with me. The president was irritated with negative coverage on the Sunday shows. He was particularly offended by that morning’s edition of NBC’s Meet the Press, anchored by a liberal reporter the president often referred to as “that sleepy-eyed son of a b, Chuck Todd.” Next to me, Scarlett, listened intently as the president dropped an explosive f-bomb on the media. I interrupted the president and said, “Sir, you can’t say that. She’s six!” to which the president replied … “Oh, sh——!” He then turned to Scarlett, apologized, and said, “Well, sweetheart, it was only a matter of time. Welcome to the real world!” It was a Trump White House Christmas memory I’ll never forget—and I pray my daughter was too young to remember!
As much as I wanted to protect my kids, I also wanted them to understand why we were making the sacrifices to serve our country. Politics is a nasty business, but I believed good people have to be involved and stand up for what is right, no matter the cost, because if good people don’t get involved, bad things happen. One of the things I admired about the president was he raised good kids and included them in everything he’d done in business and politics. It’s been said, “You can’t fake good kids.” Nobody is perfect, but the president was a good father. I have seen him make world leaders wait so he could take a call from one of his kids. I have watched him step to their defense when attacked and praise them as a proud father when they succeed. He has helped raise kids who are kind, smart, hardworking, and very generous to others. That didn’t happen by accident, and it’s something I hope people will one day say about me and my kids.
Bryan and I found that even when we couldn’t spend as much time as we would like with our kids, being intentional about our time—particularly one-on-one time—made a big difference. However, when you’re a parent of multiple preschool-aged kids you had to be careful that being too focused on one doesn’t leave the others unsupervised. I have learned this the hard way too many times to count!
One Saturday morning about 9:00 a.m. I was focused on spending time with Scarlett, who was giving me a makeover. After about an hour of getting my hair pulled into ponytail holders and bows and my face covered in makeup and bright blue eye shadow, I went to check my phone and found I had a lot of missed calls, texts, and emails from reporters asking what I was trying to say. I was confused because it was Saturday morning. I was at home with my kids getting a makeover from my daughter. I hadn’t been trying to say anything. After a few minutes I found an email that had a tweet embedded in it. The tweet was from my official White House account. It didn’t say anything, but it did contain a bunch of stoplight, anchor, plane, and train emojis. In a panic, I yelled, “Huck, get in here!” It had been more than an hour since his tweet had gone out, and I furiously typed out a clarification: “This is what happens when your three year old steals your phone. Thanks Huck! #NeverLeaveYour PhoneUnlocked.” It did, however, happen to be Infrastructure Week so at least the boy was on message!
Not to be outdone by his older brother, my son George one evening somehow ordered an $80 Batman toy off our Amazon Echo (why does it automatically select the most expensive Batman? you might ask…). Not realizing this was even possible, I posted on social media: “Alexa, we have a problem if my two-year-old can order a Batman toy by yelling ‘Batman!’ over and over again” into the Echo. To my surprise, Democrats on Twitter were outraged, accusing me of an ethics violation for promoting the overpriced Batman toy, or perhaps even a national security breach for owning an Echo in the first place because surely the Russians must be listening in on all my top-secret conversations with my kids.
In the midst of the uproar, I received an email from the owner of Sure Thing Toys, the purveyor of the $80 Batman toy.
Message from third-party seller:
Thanks for your order and the inadvertent press! In all seriousness, you can return your Batman figure if you’d like. No hassle! Just arrange for the return through the “Your Account” link on the Amazon homepage. It is a really cool figure though, but probably a bit too detailed and expensive for a two-year-old.
Ryan
Sure Thing Toys
I replied to Ryan:
I apologize for the press. I’ve never been great on the return. Maybe my four-year-old is big enough for it. Who knew a basic post like that could be so controversial, hope it doesn’t cause you any problems!
Message from third-party seller:
It’s cool! We’ll take all the press we can get. We sell toys and stay out of politics, so I can’t imagine it would cause us any problems. People on there are brutal. Such a toxic environment. I don’t know how you deal with that! And, for the record, we do have about 400 of those Batman figures left, so a boost in sales would be nice!
Either way, thanks again.
Good luck,
Ryan
Not out of fear of the Russians but out of concern George might bankrupt our family yelling “Batman!” at Alexa, we got rid of our Echo. We still have the giant Batman toy. Sticking with the Batman theme for Halloween at the White House, George and Huck both dressed as the Caped Crusader. We trick-or-treated around offices in the Old Executive Office Building and the West Wing, and the president was nice enough to invite my kids into the Oval Office to say hi. George and Huck, both in full Batman attire, high-fived the president. Some of my favorite pictures from my two and a half years in the Trump administration are from that day.
My kids were too young to fully appreciate how cool it was to get to trick-or-treat at the White House or high-five the president in their Batman costumes in the Oval Office. But it was a relief they were also too young to really understand some of the worst parts of my job. Very early Monday morning on October 2, 2017, I woke up to a call from the Situation Room to let me know about a mass shooting that had taken place in Las Vegas late the night before. I was getting ready to head to the office and Huck, always an early riser, was playing in the living room while I talked to Chief of Staff John Kelly to confirm the president had been fully briefed. I notified the press via the pool and turned off the television so Huck couldn’t see the horrific images rolling in from Vegas.
Fifty-eight people were killed and many more injured. I was scheduled to brief that day and would be the first person from the administration to speak to the country. I knew this moment was important. The country was again hurting from a mass shooting and needed a lot more than my words could provide. Cliff Sims and I talked about what my script to open the briefing should include. I asked him to find stories of concertgoers in Vegas who had courageously risked their lives to help others to highlight the resilience of the American people. He came back a couple of hours later while I was doing briefing prep with the rest of the team to do a read-through. When I started the first read-through of the script I fell apart. I asked the team to step out of my office for a minute. I sat quietly and cried for the people who had lost mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters they loved to this senseless act of violence. I prayed and asked God to comfort the grieving families and friends and to help me deliver a message of healing and hope. I then called my team back into my office. No one said anything. We just hugged. I walked out into the briefing room, took the podium, and choked up recounting acts of heroism that saved lives: “What these people did for each other says far more about who we are as Americans than the cowardly acts of a killer ever could. The Gospel of John reminds us that there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for a friend. The memory of those who displayed the ultimate expression of love in the midst of an unimaginable act of hate will never fade. Their examples will serve as an eternal reminder that the American spirit cannot and will not ever be broken. In the days ahead, we will grieve as a nation. We will honor the memory of those lost as a nation, and we will come together, united as one nation, under God, and indivisible.”
After the briefing I went back and sat alone in my office trying to make sense of it all. I opened up an email from Ari Fleischer, former White House press secretary for President George W. Bush and during 9/11. He wrote:
Sarah, I thought you did a really nice job at the briefing today.
Every so often, events are so significant that they take you, at least for a moment, out of the tough and hardened White House life people like us have come to know. Today, you showed your roots, your faith, and your humility.
I was touched by it and I think all those who watched gained an appreciation for who you are and what matters most to you.
I just wanted to say good job.
Best, Ari
I traveled with the president to Las Vegas to meet with the victims’ families, survivors, and first responders. Serving as consoler in chief President Trump told reporters, “In the darkest moments, what shines most brightly is the goodness that thrives in the hearts of our American people.” A survivor named Thomas Gunderson had been shot in the leg, but when President Trump and the first lady came in to see him he got out of his hospital bed and stood to greet them. The president and first lady pleaded with him to return to his bed but Thomas said, “I will never lie down when the president of this great country comes to shake my hand.” As we took off on Air Force One from Las Vegas, I looked down and could see the shattered windows of the Mandalay Bay, from which the shooter had murdered fifty-eight innocent souls, one of the most vivid and visceral images of evil I had ever seen.
The mass shootings that have tragically become all too common in our society made me fear for my kids’ safety as they would for any mom. It wasn’t lost on me that the more I was in the public eye the more recognizable and more of a target I’d become. There was more interest in the Trump presidency than any other in history. He dominated media coverage and social media interaction 24/7 in a way that no human being ever had before him. The number of senior administration officials who’d become household names was a new phenomenon that none of us who came into the White House had really prepared for. For better or worse, many of us had become celebrities—featured on meme after meme on social media, the target of regular punch lines on late-night television, and caricatured on Saturday Night Live. Some of us couldn’t go anywhere in the country without being recognized and approached. In my experience, the vast majority of people who approached me in public were positive and encouraging, but around Washington, DC, one of the most liberal cities in America, that wasn’t always the case. “You’re a terrible person”; “you’re not fit to be a mother”; “your kids should be ashamed of you”; “I told my kids to never be like you” were just a few of the pleasantries I encountered from enlightened liberals and feminists who approached me in our nation’s capital.
Protecting my kids from a cruel world was difficult. One Sunday afternoon I was driving all three kids to a friend’s house to play and George shouted from the backseat, “Mommy, what does it mean to be killed in cold blood?” Huck followed up with, “Yeah, what’s a cold-blooded killer?” I was shocked and asked them where they had heard this. George said, “Daddy let us watch you on the news!”
I could always count on my kids for daily doses of reality and humility. One night Scarlett was getting ready for a father/daughter dance. It was one of the first big events like this for her and Bryan. She was so excited. We spent the day picking out the perfect dress and getting her hair and nails done. Scarlett wanted the big reveal moment coming down the stairs. As we were putting on the finishing touches I told her how proud of her I was, what a beautiful girl she was inside and out, and how blessed she was to have such a wonderful daddy. We shared this special moment and I was so thankful and proud to be her mom. A little tear of joy came to my eye. Scarlett noticed and said, “It’s okay, Mommy.” She reached up, patted my arm, and with a look of empathy and compassion on her face, said, “One day you can be pretty, too.” That was not the direction I anticipated our conversation going! I smiled, gave her a kiss, and sent her down the stairs to meet her prince.
No matter how high you fly in this life, kids have a way of bringing you crashing back down to earth. On a quiet Saturday over the kids’ Christmas break, Bryan was playing Mousetrap with Scarlett and Huck. I was cleaning up the kitchen from breakfast and all of a sudden water started pouring through the ceiling all over me. I was soaking wet. I yelled for Bryan’s help and ran upstairs to find George in the boys’ bathroom. He was balancing with one foot on the side of the toilet and one on the side of the bathtub, completely naked. He had a plunger in his hands and a guilty smile on his face as the toilet overflowed everywhere. There was nearly two inches of standing water on the floor of the bathroom. I shouted to Bryan and the other kids to bring towels. I grabbed George and carried him to our shower, and after he was cleaned up, I walked back to the boys’ bathroom. Bryan was on his knees soaking up the mess and George, still naked, walked in, patted Bryan on the shoulder, and said, “It’s okay, Daddy,… my teacher says ‘sometimes accidents happen.’” We laughed so hard neither of us could bring ourselves to punish him.
My kids humbled me, but they also made me more appreciative of all God’s blessings. On Memorial Day, I accompanied the president to a ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery to honor our fallen heroes. It was technically a holiday so I got permission to bring Huck along with me. Just before we departed, Johnny DeStefano asked if Huck and I wanted to ride in the front of the motorcade in the Suburban just behind the president’s limo from the White House to Arlington. Huck sat in the backseat with one of the military communications staffers, James, who was a friend and also a parent. James was patient and answered all of Huck’s questions on the fifteen-minute ride over. James also told Huck that all of the people lining the streets and waving to the motorcade had heard he was coming to work with me that day and that’s why they were all there. Huck was thrilled with the size of the crowd there to see him and took great responsibility in making sure he waved to every onlooker we passed!
The event was a somber occasion as we honored the men and women of our Armed Forces who had paid the ultimate price so we could live free in the greatest country in the world. Families of the fallen as well as hundreds of veterans and current members of our Armed Forces were there. A man opening the ceremony delivered an inspiring message that ended with “Hallelujah!” In the silence that followed, Huck loudly yelled back, “Hallelujah!”
I brought Huck with me that day because he had lately expressed interest in joining the military when he grows up. My friend Sarah Flaherty was a helicopter pilot in the US Navy, which Huck thought was pretty cool. In September 2018 I had the honor of conducting Sarah’s official promotion from lieutenant commander to commander. Sarah came from a military family, her grandfather having been a major general in the Marines. General Dunford, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and a four-star marine general, had served under him as a young officer. I officiated the ceremony and administered the oath and, as a thank-you, Sarah gave me the bars from her uniform that I had helped switch out to signify her new rank. Huck loved to look at the bars that I kept in my office and told me he would like to have some like them someday and that when he did, he wanted me to change his, too.
I figured this day would be a good way to show Huck what true sacrifice and bravery really means and for him to meet some real superheroes—not the fake cartoon ones he watched on TV. After the ceremony finished and we were waiting to head back to the White House, General Dunford came by to say hi to Huck. I had gotten to know the general and was always impressed by his bold confidence, but also his kindness. I introduced Huck to him and told Huck he was a real superhero. Huck proudly told him he wanted to be a real superhero, too, and was going to be in the army when he grows up. General Dunford said, “That’s not bad, son, but I’m pretty sure you’d rather be a marine.” We laughed and Huck told everyone he met after that he was going to be a marine just like his new friend the general.
Being the first mom to ever serve as White House press secretary had its highs and lows. If I didn’t have the best partner in the world, I couldn’t have done it. Bryan was all the things I wasn’t. He was the fun parent who played monster and chased the kids through the house as they squealed in delight. He pushed them higher on the swing than I would dare. He made our boys tough by letting them roughhouse and be boys. And he made our daughter feel special and loved by treating her as she deserved to be treated. He was patient and laid back and he was the rock of our family during a challenging time. Every day when I was too tired to do something he stepped in. When we needed to pretend George’s birthday was on a completely different day because I couldn’t be home on his actual birthday he just went with it and made it happen. He was and is my perfect partner on this crazy journey. Not only could I not do it without him—I wouldn’t want to.
So when an opportunity came along to fulfill his lifelong dream to meet his childhood hero—Kansas City Royals Hall of Famer George Brett—I jumped at the chance. George Brett and his son Jackson were at the White House for a tour. Johnny DeStefano, who like Bryan had grown up a Royals fan in Kansas City, told me he was giving George a tour and asked me if I wanted to meet him. I bolted from my office and went to say hi and asked for a photo I could send to my husband. George said, “I’ll do you one better. We are going to dinner tonight. Why don’t you join us?” I couldn’t believe it and couldn’t wait to surprise Bryan. It was actually perfect timing because it was only a few days away from Bryan’s birthday and this was better than any gift I could ever give him!
I told Bryan and he was thrilled. I said, “This will only happen under one condition—you are not to ask George Brett about pooping his pants in Las Vegas.” The Vegas story was legend to all Kansas City Royals fans. Being married to one, I’ve heard it retold many times. George Brett was caught on video with a hot mic at spring training talking to a Royals player named Scott Dohmann.
George Brett said, “I sh—— my pants last night. I did … I’m good twice a year for that. When was the last time you sh—— your pants?”
SCOTT DOHMANN: “Me?”
GEORGE BRETT: “Yeah. Been awhile?”
SCOTT DOHMANN: “Yeah, it’s been a long time.”
GEORGE BRETT: “I was in Vegas a couple of years ago. This is an honest to God true story. I’m staying at the Bellagio. I went over to the Mirage for dinner and met some friends of mine over there. Went to Cocomo’s, a great little steakhouse. Guy brings out some fresh crab legs. ‘These just came in. I have to give them to you guys.’ Brings them out. I am eating them. Then we go gamble a little bit. I had a tee time early in the morning. So I said, ‘Look, I got to get going.’ I’m walking back to the hotel. I get three-fourths of the way out of the lobby … I got my butt pinched … I can’t move. All of sudden … BOOM … water. I had food poisoning from the crabs! Take off my leather jacket, tie it around my waist, and I’m just standing there and it is just running down my leg.… Every time I’m walking something’s coming out, it’s water. Straight water! Then to tell you how sick I was I am standing outside and I got to get my cell phone. I call the guy, I say, ‘Larry, you won’t believe this. I’m standing outside … I can’t move. I got sh—— everywhere. I sh—— all over myself.’ And Larry is about a forty-eight waist. So he brings me over a pair of pants and some towels.… He finds the closest bathroom.… He goes and gets the towel all wet for me, throws it over the stall. I take off all my clothes. Just wipe off. Leave my shoes, my pants, everything right there. The towels right there in the stall, and I am walking barefoot with my shirt and his pants that are forty-eight waist through the lobby at midnight.… True story. Who’s the pitchers in this game?”
That was the PG-13 version. The actual video (viewer discretion advised) is posted on YouTube, where it has millions of views. Bryan had watched it enough times to repeat some of the better lines from memory, so I didn’t think it was necessary or appropriate for him to bring it up the first time he’d ever meet George Brett at dinner. Bryan agreed to my terms, and we joined George Brett, his son Jackson, and a friend of his from Kansas City, along with Johnny and his wife, Sarah, at Bourbon Steak at the Four Seasons in Georgetown. After a couple of drinks, George Brett, a Republican and Trump supporter, started giving me a hard time. He said, “You know, Sarah, you have the toughest job in Washington.” I pushed back a bit, and he followed up with: “Actually, you don’t just have the toughest job in Washington—you have the worst job in Washington and probably the entire world!” He howled with laughter and I said, “Actually, I have the best job in the world. In fact, if I didn’t have this job, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now with you.” I then really let him have it. I did exactly what I’d repeatedly warned my husband not to do. I said, “George, why don’t you tell us about that time you pooped your pants in Vegas?” George Brett, without hesitation, launched into the story in graphic, hysterical detail. The look on Bryan’s face was pure joy.
I blamed Jackson. I had been sitting next to Jackson all night and had instantly hit it off with him. He was a young guy with a big personality and while Bryan and Johnny were drooling over George I had been talking to Jackson. I told him I had threatened Bryan’s life if he fanboyed too much or asked George to tell the Vegas story, but Jackson had egged me on and told me to do it. That night we all became friends, and to this day, Bryan says it was his best night in Washington. We love George and his family. Every time I am not the perfect wife (pretty rare!) I remind Bryan of this night, hoping it will get me out of the hot seat!
He and I have a great marriage, but we have faced many challenges and we are still a long way off from perfecting parenthood. During our time in Washington we did our best to teach our kids right, from wrong, why it’s important to help others, and to love others the way Jesus loves us. Some days we failed miserably and others we had moments to be proud of. Being a working mom these days is not easy. Social media, while a great tool, is also a dangerous place to spend all of your time. It’s a permanent highlight reel of our best moments. It’s rare to see a mom post a picture of their kid standing naked on a toilet—plunger in hand—flooding her house with dirty toilet water from the second-floor bathroom! No one is a perfect parent and no one has perfect kids, but our kids are a gift from our perfect God. They have been entrusted to us by our Creator and God chose us to be their parents.
On a snow day when all the schools in the Washington area were closed, I went into work. Thankfully Bryan was able to stay home with the kids and they went sledding. They had come in to warm up, and as Bryan was building a fire, three-year-old George said, “Turn on Fox News, Daddy.”
“Why, George?”
“Because I like Fox News.”
“Really? Why do you like Fox News, George?”
“Because that’s where I can see Mommy.”
My three-year-old had apparently concluded that if he wanted to see his mom he’d probably be more likely to see me on TV than at home.
That night when I tucked George in he asked me why I didn’t wave back to him. I was confused and asked when he had waved at me. He said he had seen me on TV and waved at me, but I never waved back. No matter how many ways I tried to explain to him that when I’m on TV he could see me but I couldn’t see him, he never seemed convinced, just hurt.
I loved working for the president and serving my country. It’s probably one of the best jobs I’ll ever have. But the greatest job and the most important title I’ll ever have is that of mom. As I neared two years in the White House—and three years since joining the Trump campaign—I knew I’d soon have to make a decision about how much longer I could do both.