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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
It is unpaid sales work with a child mascot.
The school says student led, then sends home a spreadsheet and a deadline.
I would rather donate twenty dollars and skip the plastic junk.
My child is not selling anything. I am texting coworkers with shame in my heart.
Yes, except the prize is storing wrapping paper in your trunk.
And somehow Grandma is our largest corporate account.