In the midst of an argument with my oldest daughter, I glance down at the subtitle of the book I’m reading: Female Rage and My Passage into Motherhood.
If I wasn’t so angry, I’d laugh.
Motherhood. Odd how all how reading all that Plato as an undergraduate works into parenting…. The unexamined life is not worth living.
Stop pretending, I insist — I crab at her, really — could you please stop pretending anyone on the planet has a Facebook life? That living includes love of sizzling bacon and three-layer chocolate cake and cappuccino, of merry friends, of loving your cat who licks butter from your fingers? But our bones also hold the sorrow of loss, and rage at the universe.
Our evening ends with Yahtzee, broken bits of dark chocolate, laughter.