the mother-in-law left yesterday.
this month has been the longest two years of my life.
My belly don’t jiggle jiggle, it folds.
Welcome to your forties.
You brag about how early you went to bed and you’re jealous if someone beats you.
Stop naming your dogs Bella.
We are full.
Anti-carb diets are just radical groups of potato-phobes and spud-judists.
6yo: I wish I was a bird so I could poop on people’s heads.
7yo: Why do you need to be a bird?
Fellas, stop putting rings in our food and let us eat our Crème Brûlée in peace.
[during fight]
him: I’ll cancel our dinner plans.
me: What? Why?? I still like food, it’s you I don’t like.
I’ve realized the source of all my stress and anxiety. It’s anything that comes after someone saying “Mom!”
I was dressed and ready to go for a run an hour and a bag of Doritos ago.
“Here mom, hold this.”
Translation: I own you now.
Our new neighbours came over with an email and phone number because they’re leaving their teenage son home alone for a few days.
I told them not to worry.
I’ve seen The Graduate and he’s in good hands.
Sealed it with my super genuine slow wink.Anyways, making friends is hard.
I was uninvited to “drop it” because we couldn’t hear Yoncé over my Rice Krispie knees.
I like to piss my husband off by using the switch right beside me rather than screaming at devices all over the house in codes I can’t a remember and a voice they don’t listen to, recognize, or understand just to turn one goddamn living room lamp on.
I hate when my therapist “makes a note” because I know that means she’s gonna try and circle back … but she wildly underestimates my filibuster skills.