Confessions of a Working Mom

Every once in a while, it all seems to bite me in the you-know-what.

At about three-thirty on a recent Sunday afternoon, I was Mom-ed out. Oh, it hit me a second too late—right after I said a cuss word in front of my two children. Don’t get me wrong, this has happened before. You know, like when a painfully slow driver in front of you won’t pull over in the shoulder so you can pass him—and you curse his name under your breath. But this time, I actually answered my three-year-old son’s question with

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