Joni Edelman

They will 

As a stay-at-home mom, I've made plenty of sacrifices. Where are my accolades?

I’m lucky to be smart, to have an astonishingly good memory. Or maybe I’m lucky to be bipolar.

Suffering is America’s favorite thing to do. We starve ourselves to lose weight, and we’re a success story. We don’t sleep, and we’re just getting SO MUCH DONE. We do a thousand things a day and involve our kids in a thousand activities, because somehow, in some perverted way, that makes us successful.

She says she’s worried that the cat, whose name is Jack, doesn’t know what’s going on. She tried to explain to him that she was leaving for a while.

Our relationship has been a little complicated. I've loved you a lot, and I've loathed you at least that much, but mostly you've just gone unnoticed. Except for those 5 to 7 days every four weeks when you made your presence quite evident, what with the river of life blood and the random excruciating, and from what I can tell, unnecessary, contractions.

Misogyny is pervasive. And my three boys are living it all.

Can we just take a pause to consider all of the total fucking bullshit to which we subject ourselves?

Do you want people to for-sure panic? Tell them not to panic.

A weekly trip to Walmart would end in tears — first theirs, then mine. Them pining in the toy aisle. Me saying no. Over and over. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to buy my kids whatever they wanted, it was that I couldn’t.