Sometimes I really hate my toddler. I really do. Not in a cute, “I want to write him up on my local Brooklyn listserve and try to give him away,” kind of way.
All in ESSAY
Sometimes I really hate my toddler. I really do. Not in a cute, “I want to write him up on my local Brooklyn listserve and try to give him away,” kind of way.
I am a mom who not only disobeyed the local treatise to avoid Botox, I took the nuclear option as well — and got breast implants. I hope after writing this article, they still let me live here because our zoned school is really top-notch.
When I had kids in my 30s, I immediately felt contempt for the so-called “sisterhood.” No one had prepared me for pregnancy and motherhood.
Maybe you and I have different ideas of what qualifies as a “good” day.
