They’re out there. Those “other” mothers. The ones with the perfectly pressed locks, bangs never out of place who just seem so, well,
together. They are the moms that I imagine must have been those lucky creatures who glowed during pregnancy, who pushed twice and gave birth to a baby with a perfectly shaped head. Their children never had sleep issues, never had tantrums, never were picky eaters. They look perfect by the pool in their string bikinis while little Emma floats nearby. They know what’s up. They know somehow, some way how to make being a mom seem natural. No, they make being a mom look
easy.
And they regularly make me want to throw a shoe at them.
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