Whoa. Nelly.

Life. Whoa. Nelly.

I feel tremendously overwhelmed.

It’s a mixed bag that tastes simultaneously like key lime pie (love) and cough medicine (hate).

It’s confusing, to be so thankful and so tear-out-my-hair-in-tufts at the same time.

I won’t pull out my laundry list of insanity because if you’re a working mom your list probably looks identical and then you’ll be all, “So what, Liz. Just get a grip already.” And then I’ll probably say something nonsensical like, “No, YOU get a grip already.” And then we might cry because it’s Monday and we’re both running on four hours of sleep. Then we’d realize we’re on the same team and we’re biting at each other, and then we’d hug and say, “I’m sorry… no I’M SORRY.” And then if men saw us they would elbow each other and say, “Women. Eh?”

We simply cannot give men that opportunity.

So let me just say WHOA NELLY.

That is all.


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