Tamarah Rockwood

Was I hungry? Was it low blood sugar? Were my feet falling off? Was I crazy? Was I dying?

"Who puts folded shirts on top of your closet shelf? I can hardly reach the hangers, alone. Honestly, people."

There comes a point in every writer’s life when their brain just refuses to work.

I worry about the food I give them. I worry about the clothes we have for them. I stress over the amount of time I spend with them . . . or don’t spend with them. When is it enough, and when is it overpowering?

The Mom Butt is a little wider, a little flatter and a little longer than the butts on the totally dedicated and amazing women on Pinterest (mad props to them, seriously).

Typical advice: Go out there and find yourself...on the precipice of death overlooking a valley of broken dreams, student loans, and tears.

"Day to day life is going to the DMV, or picking up a few things at Home Depot, or going to bed early. Although I really do like the spunk of motivational posters to put
the idea of “what if” into our heads..."

The thing is, the more I watch this show, and the more I think back to the endless years in Start Up culture that we experienced, the more I keep thinking: “This is way too similar to parenting.”

1. EATING OUT. OMG, I could eat lunch at a diner . . . without also being given a coloring sheet with crayons. I could eat a whole meal by myself. I can play on my phone without having to share it! Bonus: No kids menus required.

My reality has to include social anxiety, because I have had social anxiety for as long as I can remember. School programs, football stadiums, parades, large parties . . . hell, even small parties. I would rather not. To the point that I will simply not attend. Not because I can’t handle it; I can. I just don’t enjoy the crowds, and I don’t enjoy my reaction to the crowds. I get bitchy and impatient, mostly with myself, and I actually don’t like being bitchy and impatient.