Sandy Jorgenson

Two years ago, I had a two-year-old daughter who’d never met her grandfather.

Everybody who’s a parent can attest to the fact that the lives they once knew are far behind them.

Based on my experience, I can tell you with confidence that there exists a list of perfectly reasonable ways to cope with that endless stream of bullshit that your kids are pumping out on the regular. None of this stuff is going to bring you the blessed satisfaction that comes with screaming out all your favorite swear words while you tear off your clothing in a fit of rage and flush yourself down the toilet, but until such a time arises, this list will at least provide some healthy alternatives to deep-diving through your city’s sewer system when you need relief most.

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Griping about adulting is a fun thing that we like to do, I know.

You’d have a hell of a time if you ever dared to crawl through the recesses of a first-time mother’s brain.

This article is the second in a two-part series.

When a bereaved mother is left alone, how deep into the recesses of her mind does she wander? Does she surface for air? Does she want to come out at all?