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I would really like to know when my last nerve became community property. Because everybody in this house is using it. At the same time.
Some traditions are beautiful. Some traditions are just things nobody had the nerve to stop doing. There is a difference. Every family has one. A
“Mom, where’s my charger?” I don’t know. That answer seems to upset people. Like I’m being difficult on purpose. Like there is a large control
At some point motherhood got a production department. I don’t know when. Maybe Pinterest did it. Maybe Instagram. Maybe we did it to ourselves because
Forty three unread messages and somehow none of them were urgent.
Helpful gesture or one more weird house rule nobody agreed on?
Mom rants, petty arguments, family bullshit, polls and the stories worth sending to the group chat.
MOM.WTF
I paid for it. I cooked it. I am eating it.
No because mine remembers half a french fry from three hours ago like an accountant.
I give it ten minutes. After that, abandoned nuggets become community property.
You can, but they will suddenly need it the moment it touches your mouth.
The second they say they do not want it, ownership transfers to me.
And they will look at you like you sold the family home.