I visited those friends who'd just had a baby, and she was washing dishes and he was cleaning the house, and I burst with happiness. And in their minds, they were in this terrible domestic rut.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
My mother has stories of leaving me in the bath as small kid, like a 3-year-old, and there being mirrors on the side, and her going to get a towel and coming back in, and me making faces at myself, like, 'Now I'm happy. Now I'm sad.'
It's true, I had an extremely delicious life, but that was my life at home, and perhaps because I was only a child, or for whatever reasons, I found the company of others, especially other boys, quite terrifying and upsetting.
I grew up in a happy household.
With my father and sister being very depressed for most of their lives, it was incumbent on me to try to make them laugh, in this ridiculous way. They were the wittiest people I knew, but to get a smile from them was like winning the lottery.
And now, once again, I bid my hideous progeny go forth and prosper. I have an affection for it, for it was the offspring of happy days, when death and grief were but words, which found no true echo in my heart.
Me and my sisters were so awful. One nanny, we loved, but we hacked her email and sent her boyfriend lots of weird messages, and we once actually locked her in the toilet, too.
My folks still live in my childhood home, and so when I'm home with them, I usually feel the best.
I get really upset seeing my friends who are mums crying because they feel like they're not good enough. Clever, confident, kind young women all going, 'I'm ruining my child's life.'
I'm always happy when I'm cleaning, and besides, I had just found out that I was going to have a baby.
I've shared the fate of many working mothers; I felt guilty like them.
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