Mika Brzezinski's memoir, All Things at Once, and the description inside the cover calling her book "an unflinching account of her struggles as a working mother," are nothing less than misleading. Sure, she gave birth to two children, and certainly she works. Very hard. At securing and keeping more work. At motherhood? Not so much.
My husband had to go out of town for a funeral, leaving me with my 6-year-old and 2-year-old for the weekend. No big deal -- how much could I screw them up in one weekend? Turns out, a lot.
I may not be downing a bottle of wine every night, but is there a name for moms like me who can't resist eating a bag of goldfish in one sitting?
I never thought I'd feel so lucky to be driving a new car. Not that I ever take a huge purchase for granted, but my husband and I just bought it last week with the Cash for Clunkers incentive. In the nick of time, since they've barricaded the doors on this deal a lot more quickly than it took to chisel them open.
There's nothing wrong with my husband, by the way. My husband is cute. It's me. I'm tired ... and I know it's the middle of summer, but I am not bikini-ready. I'm not even flannel-pajamas-lights-off ready.
What have I been allowing my innocent child to be exposed to? No wonder eye-rolling and declarations of the superior power of aliens have become common occurrences at the dinner table.
I don't know how I could have missed it, since the invitation read "Bag Lunch Fundraiser," but that's how far handbags are from my mind.