bad moms

After having three kids in four years, my life IS toys and play. It’s a knee-high jumble of babies and boxes, of little pieces of cut up cotton buds and impossible to transform robots, and it is that stomach-sinking feeling at the whooshing sound of a box of Legos being upturned in the toy room.

I went to the premiere of Bad Moms last week. I might have peed my pants during the movie and it took about two days until my face stopped hurting. I don’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. (Okay, fine. There’s no “might have.” I did pee my pants. So what?)