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Hi.

When I became a mom, I searched for a blog that resonated with every part of me: the nerdy kid, the ansty teenage feminist, the wayward 20-something, the ambitious career woman, the writer, the traveler, the wife, and yes, the mother. I couldn’t find that blog, so I wrote it. Welcome.

This is why we can't have nice things

This is why we can't have nice things

We’re in Italy and I’ve decided I live here now. Specifically in this stunning garden where we got to have dinner. To be clear, someone else would have to care for the garden, because I do not have a green thumb. I have whatever the thumb is that kills off plants.

When I tell people I can’t keep plants alive, they always respond with “Oh you just need a [fill in the blank] plant. You can’t kill them.” Then the next time I see them they usually proceed to GIVE ME A PLANT.

That’s like handing a baby to someone who has just told you they don’t want kids, and assuring them, “No no, you’ll be fine, you’ll see. Just find it some indirect light and mist it twice a week.”

I got very excited at this garden because it’s my wedding anniversary next week. It’s four years, which is the fruit anniversary. Naturally I decided we should get each other lemon trees. To which my husband responded “Will these trees come with a gardener?”.

“I’ll learn to take care of them!” I said.

He politely pointed out that I have zero spare time to learn about caring for lemons trees, and also that I’d had three glasses of champagne, so maybe we should just get each other some nice lemon-scented lotion.

And this is why we’re married.

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