I don’t miss painstakingly cutting crusts pre-coffee, but I do miss writing love notes on their lunch napkins.
Author: Sammiches Guest Writer
Therapists have suggested I think of my anxiety as a friend so that I learn to accept it as a part of my life. But the thing is, my anxiety is a bitch.
Typically, Mid-October means moms around the country are gearing up for a season of Pinterest-inspired holiday parties at school. But it’s 2020, and fun has been cancelled.
There are countless more examples of things the year 2020 has ruined, but if I have learned anything this year, it is to not count the power of this year out.
No, my son isn’t a good sleeper. In fact, he’s a terrible sleeper. And no, I don’t need your suggestions because trust me, we’ve tried them.
No, super involved volunteer mom, I don’t want to work the damn concession stand Friday night. I want to stay home and talk to zero people.
I think of all the things my master ankle-biter will be able to sink his teeth into:
Oddly enough, a semi-famous girl on IG with very few wrinkles and barely one butt dimple is part of the reason I learned to accept my own mom-bod.