Being a mother is tough shit. Between finding puddles of pee and chasing a naked, future American Ninja Warrior toddler around and dealing with the teenage angst of a 6 year old teenager… Well hot damn. I don’t know how we do it.
I like to sing Whatta Man to myself sometimes. Like right now, except instead of Whatta Man it’s Whatta Mom, cause yeah, yeah ooooo girl. Uh hey, hey, all right, yeah, oooo. That’s right. Whatta mom, whatta mom, whatta mighty all right mom (yes, I am).
So grab your coffee and get ready to spill your guts all over this battlefield I like to call home, any restaurant, the bathroom, Target, and the ever so sweet wine aisle of Whole Foods.