Tamarah Rockwood

The truth is, my kids are not going to grow a deeper character thanks to perfect floors. Granted, it will make life easier for me, no doubt: there are few things that make my stomach drop than walking into a room that I just cleaned, and seeing a spoonful of peanut butter just sitting on the floor (I have an accomplished toddler). Peanut butter on the floor, or on the counter, or on the tablecloth — or anywhere other than on a piece of bread — is frustrating.

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.

I don’t like my old friend Guilt very much. We are not BFFs. She smells funny, and I don’t appreciate her company.

I couldn’t listen to another puerile sales pitch in someone’s living room, promising the moon and then selling you something that “tastes just like sugar.” (It doesn’t. Not even sort of.)

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."

You are being a dick if you intentionally create drama in a friendly conversation. You argue about everything from politics, to career choices, to shoe choices, to the quality of people around you to the quality of the pizza you ordered. No one cares about your opinions regarding pepperoncinis on pizza.