A Letter to the Tired Moms (that’s all of us)

Your worth is not measured by how much money you have in the bank or the size of your house.  Or whether you can sit on your couch without pushing a weeks worth of clothes onto the floor; right on top of that fort built out of blocks.

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Split

  I love you banana split you must know, but once I take this last bite you’ve gotta go. I already stole the cherry- plucked it from the top. And those  luscious sweet strawberries were the cream of the crop. I relished in your creamy dreams, even while I mourned the loss. They forgot the nuts and I’m split. […]