Reaching that point
Where I keep asking myself “Why the fuck do I bother?” Really, really.
Where I keep asking myself “Why the fuck do I bother?” Really, really.
So the other day we’re in the car. Daughter: “Where are the groceries?” Me: “They’re in the trunk.” Daughter: “What is trunk?” Me: “mm.. in the way back.” My kids have no memory of a car with a trunk. We’ve had a hatchback or a minivan their entire lives. And I’m feeling old.
So sorry, y’all, having a bit of a time right now. But here’s something to distract all of us momentarily. Shamelessly lifted from Busy Mom’s blog… (she said it was OK) Name someone with the same birthday as you. Eric Clapton. Where was your first kiss? Probably at church during a youth group dance. I […]