Sometimes in the evening when I’m struggling to bathe my children – which in my house entails wrestling, screaming, crying and endless (often unsuccessful) reminders that, no, we never drink the dirty bath water, and, yes, I am indeed sure that the only place we poop is the potty – I wish we lived atContinue reading “Black Death”
A neurotic millennial's musings and doodles on life, parenthood, and the myriad ways she can blame her mother for her troubles.
