I don’t understand, Facebook. I should become a social worker so I can help this terrifying baby?
“Before it was all about us. Now it’s all about him.”
When I get called a mom, it’s usually because I value my sleep cycle or know how to get stains out of things, but last night was the first instance I’ve ever felt conscious of it outside of my friends giving me (loving, tender) shit.
We were at a...