Kate Ryan

Eva, having stayed up the whole night preoccupied with death and time, planned to call in sick.

Motherhood is easily the toughest, most sacred job on earth. Without moms, the human race simply wouldn’t be here. But personally, I’d rather dangle myself from dental floss over a volcano full of spiders than push another human being out of my body.

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

Everyone wants to have the funny tweets because people equate them with wealth, power, and beauty. The problem is, we’re not all funny.

She doesn’t know how to communicate the feeling that all is for nothing, nothing is normal.

Okay, so maybe she didn’t really understand feminism.

I saw my old babysitter at a women’s wrestling cage match.

I would send some chocolates, but I’m not allowed anymore since they found the shiv in the birthday cake I sent you.

A bloated mother in her polka dot one-piece gnaws on a corndog while reading the romantic pulp she picked up on her way out of the supermarket . . .

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.