In an attempt to make things easier for myself, which is the basis for all of history's worst decisions [...].

You transition as a mother from literally just pulling a booger out of that person's nose whenever you see one until at some point they assert: "No, I'm a person. You can't fix my underpants on the subway."

If you are a woman and you bought this book for practical tips on how to make it in a male-dominated workplace, here they are. No pigtails, no tube tops. Cry sparingly. (Some people say “Never let them see you cry.” I say, if you’re so mad you could just cry, then cry. It terrifies everyone.)

I was ten. I had noticed something was weird earlier in the day, but I knew from commercials that one's menstrual period was a blue liquid that you poured like laundry detergent onto maxi pads to test their absorbency. This wasn't blue, so... I ignored it for a few hours.

Your initiations are worthwhile.

Now let me be clear; millions of women around the world nurse their children beautifully for years without giving anybody else a hard time about it. Teat Nazis are a solely western upper-middle-class phenomenon occurring when highly ambitious women experience deprivation from outside modes of achievement.

There are so many quiet times you spend as a mother that aren't glorified but are a foundation for your kids. No matter what, there was always a thick safety net under this trapeze.