“Little shits,” Lois mumbles as she tosses her phone on the table. “God, I love them, and I hate them. It’s a toxic relationship.” “You paint such a beautiful picture of motherhood,” Clea says as she holds her cup of coffee close to her chest, acting like it’s a lifeline. “It’s not for the faint at heart, that’s for sure. Did you know Moon convinced my mom that she didn’t have to go to bed at eight because it gave her wrinkles? She’s freaking five, and my mom is sitting there thinking, ‘Oh, dear heavens, a five-year-old can’t have wrinkles, let her stay up until nine.’ Does becoming a
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